Arguments and boyfriends, not a good combination

My sister, Lorraine, and her boyfriend, Aaron, were arguing about my sister’s cat. They had been in the living room for about an hour while I was in another room ironing clothes and pretending I hadn’t heard their arguments.

Lorraine’s voice was soft and pleading, “Aaron, please don’t kick Sir Catskill like that. He’s—”

Aaron’s return remark showed his contempt, “What do you care? He’s just a thing always in the way.”

Lorraine continued, “He’s my cat, not just a thing. I love him.”

Aaron laughed, “He’s just a thing, that’s all. Why don’t you get that stupid piece of cat hair out of my way? And that silly name you call him, Sir something or other. Talk about stupid!”

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I could tell Lorraine was about to cry. “I named him Sir Catskill,” she said, “and it just fits him. Why don’t you try being nice to him and—“

Aaron huffed, “I suppose if you had an elephant you’d be dribbling all over him too.”

Trying hard, Lorraine found some strength to approach this rude boyfriend ,”Aaron! How can you talk like that? Don’t you care at all? How can you be so—“

“Huhh, woman, I’m not marrying a cat!” Aaron turned his back and shook his head in disgust.

I heard Lorraine, She was really crying now. I wanted to stand face to face with Aaron and tell that man a thing or two. He was giving me all kinds of reasons why I should do just that. Aaron was stomping toward the door and slamming it shut as he walked away.

Mingling sobs with words, Lorraine said, “I guess Aaron doesn’t really love me after all.”

I heard myself whisper, “Only himself.” I covered Lorraine’s hands with my own. “One of these days you’ll find a good man. And that man will find you.”

“Two years later I was an honored guest at her wedding. Lorraine’s husband was a quiet fellow who called the countryside his home. Together they began a welcoming “drive in” where customers chose whatever they liked and left with a happy smile.

I have so many remembrances of Lorraine, the young girl, and when we were older, the good talks we had. Did I tell you we both were musicians? We often sang duets and we both played piano and violin. We never talked about Aaron. But privately I wanted to clap and yell, “Gotcha!” In case you’re wondering, Sir Catskill lived a good long time. Lorraine’s husband built a little house for Sir Catskill and three other cats, where they could eat, sleep and play. Often, Sir Catskill was welcome to be with Lorraine and her husband in their home. Some times you could hear him purring with contentment.

I’m thankful that many of my memories are happy ones. For personal reasons, I haven’t mentioned all names, but the story is true. Bye for now; Luella, the little sister.

Luella Dow is a Cheney-area author. She can be reached at [email protected].