The gig is up, as they say. We have no option but to tell Noah the truth. Especially after Chuck lets out another BIG MEOW.
“Yes. He’s our cat. Chuck.”
Noah opens his mouth to say something. Probably, the usual. Cats aren’t allowed in . . . but he doesn’t. We’re long gone from the seminary and finally heading toward Dan’s house in Heliopolis. We all know that getting into the house, at this point, will be a long shot. There are always complications in Egypt. So, Chuck being there, amazingly, is less of a threat.
Which is super good news because finally Chuck is interested in what’s going on. He wants to see the house. We have no idea why except that maybe we’ve been talking about it for the last year or so . . . Chuck maybe imagines it to be some grandiose structure, surrounded by catnip gardens.
Anyway, all Noah does is nod and then the focus is on finding the house. Dan still remembers his address after many years. He’s said it out loud every so often. It always sounds totally incomprehensible to me. Luckily, he can spell it—in Arabic—and Noah has put it into his GPS so we find this illusive house without too much trouble. We park the car and hit our first obstacle.
The gate keeper. Now, in America, you encounter a gate with a guard (and clipboard) only when you want to meet a very wealthy or very important person, and you usually have an appointment. Here, in Egypt, we have no appointment. The gate keeper only speaks Arabic, and Dan’s house now belongs to a church.
Dan’s Arabic has slowly been coming back since we arrived in Egypt, but it’s not nearly good enough to explain why we want to get inside the gate and see the house. Noah tries to explain in his faltering Arabic. For some odd reason, the gate keeper gets it and lets us through. Miracle #1
He doesn’t even blink when he sees Chucky. Miracle #2
But the house is locked. A phone call has to be made. To the head church guy. Who has to agree. He does. And then he has to find the grounds keeper who has the key. As we’re waiting, we’re offered a soda. It seems the idea that Dan grew up in this house enthralls everyone. In fact, a guy shows up out of nowhere insisting he used to play baseball with Dan. The guy with the key shows up and unlocks the house. Miracle #3
We’re in. Chucky’s in. It’s only polite to wait for a tour. Dan is looking around trying to remember which room is which. The house is now a kind of meeting place for church officials, fund raising projects, etc. There is no sign of anything from when he lived there—only the rooms are the same and yet different—the kitchen, dining room, the bedrooms and the porch out back.
Chucky, however, has taken a different view. He’s going to sniff out the entire place. Leave not a corner unsniffed. He is determined to get his fill as if he’s been comissioned with writing a report on this house once we’re back in America. He's also being very secretive about it.
We begin walking room to room. Dan is enjoying this trip down memory lane, gleefully recounting stories of how they belonged to the local swim club during the summer. Of how he used to take the local tram across town to take piano lessons when he was ten.
“Where is Chucky, by the way?” Dan suddenly asks.
“Somewhere sniffing.”
Dan doesn't look surprised.
"What's going on?"
"Well, I might have implied that there's a small garden of . . . "
Sure enough, Chucky has somehow found his way outside and is sniffing the perimeter of the house, in search of the supposed garden. Outside a bunch of boys are playing ball.
"Is there any catnip back there, really?"
"I had to find someway to keep him happy."
"You're right. He was moping around. But you know, you gave him mission impossible."
"He should be thanking us."
Now, of course, we feel incredibly guilty.
But all is well. The boys spot Chucky and run over to pet him. He is the center of attention. Which he loves. They decide to make him the mascot for their team.
Chucky never finds the garden or the catnip. But the rascal cat is purring away and that makes all the difference.
