Downton Tabby (9 page)

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

—E
DWARD
L
EAR,
“T
HE
O
WL AND THE
P
USSYCAT
”

You:
Papa, I know you won’t approve, but a wirehaired terrier has asked me to go ratting with him on the wharf.

Lord Grimalkin:
You most certainly will not.

You:
My mind’s made up.

Lord Grimalkin:
Go to your room.

Lady Korat:
Dear . . .

Lord Grimalkin:
Oh, fine. But I never thought I’d see the day.

You:
The wirehaired terrier has also asked me to marry him.

Lord Grimalkin:
Go to your room.

Lady Korat:
Dear . . .

Lord Grimalkin:
Very well, then. I suppose I’m an old stick-in-the-mud. You have my blessing. Good dogs, wirehaireds. Hate rats. We can build on that.

You:
Did I say “wirehaired terrier”? I meant “cigarette-smoking chimp from the zoo.” And did I say “ratting at the wharf”? I meant “blowing up Parliament.”

Lord Grimalkin:
Go to your . . .

Lady Korat:
Dear . . .

Lord Grimalkin:
Very well. Let’s meet . . .

You:
Koko . . .

Lord Grimalkin:
Koko . . .

You:
 . . . the Jackal.

Lord Grimalkin:
Fine.

My children have all been disappointments in one way or another, except for the ones I ate at birth.

I can’t be responsible for your lack of initiative. If you don’t want me to lie on your face, don’t sleep on your back.

What part of “aaaaaaack-aaaaaacaackaaaaack” didn’t you understand?

I poop in this shoe not because it is easy, but because it is difficult.

The only thing I cannot resist is temptation. And rubber bands. Rubber bands and temptation. But that’s it.

I’m sorry, did I say stop patting?

T
IMES WERE CHANGING.
G
ANDHI WENT
to prison. Albert Einstein received the Nobel Prize and James Joyce published
Ulysses
, a book that was probably dirty. (The first dirty book cats could understand,
Lady Catterley’s Lover
, was still six years away.)

For the cats of Downton Tabby, life was changing too.

Boots was framed for gnawing on an elephant-foot umbrella stand and sent to the pound, where his cagemate framed him for gnawing a bar of soap into the shape of a gun. Lady Etcetera took an interest in newspapers, mostly by lying under one and hissing. Electric lighting was finally installed in the kitchen, where the cook, Mrs. Catmore, stared at a moth flitting around a bulb for twenty-two hours, at which point she went blind.

Lady Serval had a beautiful litter of kittens and died, to pursue a career in film.

They say the test of this [literary power] is whether a man can write an inscription. I say “Can he name a kitten?” And by this test I am condemned, for I cannot.

—S
AMUEL
B
UTLER

S
OME FAMILIES MOURN THEIR PETS
when they go; others get a new one the next day. No cat could ever replace the young, beautiful, feisty, and headstrong Lady Serval, except maybe the young, beautiful, feisty, and headstrong Lady Replacey McCaracal, whose cat bed and scratching post were moved in that afternoon.

Although the Clowders’ troubles—dying in childbirth, self-healing war wounds, evil maids, strange inheritance laws, scandalous rumors, inconvenient corpses, sisters fighting over beaus, Catholicism, blackmail, prison—were like nothing that had ever happened in any other British mansion, they weren’t the only stately home in turmoil.

At Misselthwaite Manor, Mary Lennox nursed her cousin Colin, whose mother had died in childbirth, and who thought he couldn’t walk, but really he could. (
The Sneak-Cat Garden
)

At Brideshead Manor, Lord Marchmain’s daughter
Julia was disinherited and then reinherited, after marrying outside the church. (
Brideshead Dander
)

At Manderley, the malicious housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, tricked the second Mrs. de Winter into wearing the same dress Rebecca once wore. (
Rebeccat
)

At Sedley Mansion, Rawdon Crawley foolishly married the social-climbing governess, Becky Sharp, and was disinherited. (
Vanity Fur
)

And at Norland Park, Mr. Dashwood died suddenly, and obscure inheritance laws meant the estate went to a distant relative, while his three daughters were left to find husbands. (
Stoats and Sensibility
)

When war had broken out in Europe, it hadn’t been a minute too soon for Becky Sharp. Her husband and the man she loved both went and one of them died. Marianne Dashwood fell down in the rain and met two eligible men, attracting the attentions of a dashing cad and a stolid old bore, while Elinor developed feelings for her cousin, Edward Ferrars, who was engaged to someone else. Manderley caught fire, the flames spread to the Vicar of Wakefield’s house, and
pretty soon his daughters had to find husbands while he went to prison.

Marianne Dashwood finally fell in love with Colonel Brandon, but it took
forever
, and a war wound made Frederic Henry (
A Furwell to Arms
) think he’d never walk again, but he did, thanks to his beautiful nurse, Catherine Barkley, who died in childbirth.

At Gossington Hall, the maid, Mary, rushed in with terrible news: There’s a body in the library!

Miss Marple was on the case.

Tragically for cats, 1923 was also the year Henry Ford built his 10,000,000th automobile.

I must be going. These baby toys won’t urinate on themselves!

Yes, sometimes I’m going to bite you for patting my stomach. If you want consistency, get a dog.

Stoats have died from time to time, and cats have eaten them, but not for love.

The size of my head is neither here nor there. It is the hole that it is stuck in that is too small.

“What should we call each other?” “Call me anything you like. I shan’t respond. I’m a cat.”

I’m sorry I bit you, dear. In that terrible suit I thought you were a penguin.