Theo, the Little Gangster

    Theo won't say a word. He will neither confirm or deny. Can he see or hear Chuck? Is he taking orders or acting on his own? As I flip through photos, I find yet another photo of Chuck about to confer with Theo in that last week before Chuck passes to the other side.

    Dan says, "Chucky knew. He was cementing his legacy."

    My eyes well up with tears. "How brave can one cat be?" 

    We are on our way to see an exotic plant called the Bird of Paradise, an exquisitely beautiful flower that looks like a bird and even moves like a bird in flight when the wind hits it. That small detail, that a plant can imitate a bird, is what causes poor Theo no end of humiliation on his first travel assignment. Because he thinks we are going to see Birds of Paradise. Which are actual birds.

    Like Chucky, Theo has a bucket list. Where Chucky loved the History Channel, Theo loves animal shows and mafia movies. He even talks like a little gangster. And he does his research.

    Dan says, "The Bird of Paradise is a perennial plant from South Africa. It's also called the crane lily. It causes no allergic reactions--" 

    We are on the way to the conservatory, and Theo is listening intently, but he begins to shake his head, disagreeing with everything Dan is saying.

    But we can't stop and argue. Sneaking Theo into a place like this will be tricky business. A bird of paradise is a rare plant. We suspect there will even be someone watching--a kind of plant guard. Sure enough as we move closer to the plant, I feel eyes on me.

    "Be careful," I whisper, "there are spies all around."

    The Bird of Paradise is beautiful and looks exactly like a bird who has been, unfortunately, attached to a plant. 

    "Stand and block the view so I can let Theo see."

     That's the plan, but the plant guard comes rushing over. He's a nice guy who offers to take our photo, posing with the plant. We pose.  At this stage we'll do anything to get rid of him.

   

    I then pretend to admire the plant while Dan lets Theo peek out and see the plant. (Which, of course, we find out later, he sincerely believes is a bird.) 

    No one can anticipate what will happen next. Or how strong Theo is. We're used to traveling with Chucky who was a rascal but he'd never, ever have been able to leap out of a backpack in a single bound. Somehow Theo is able to get traction with his tiny paws and do just that. He leaps out of the pack, onto Dan's shoulder, intent on . . . well . . . if you were a cat and you thought you were that close to a bird.

    I am taken completely unaware.

    Dan is one step ahead of me and two steps ahead of Theo. As Theo readies himself for the final leap (no doubt harboring images of bird of paradise served up on a serving platter with delicious gravy dripping off its wings), Dan catches hold of him and reels him back. 

    Theo grunts. 

    "Oh my God." That's me in total shock.

    It is a miracle that the plant guard sees absolutely nothing. Mainly because at that very moment a bevy of children have come in with their mom and they are running wildly through the place, as if they've consumed too much grape juice. The plant guard's attention is diverted. We are saved. 

    Later, at home, we have the discussion:

    Dan: "It is a Bird of Paradise. A plant."

    Theo: "I did my research, see. I know it was a bird." Is it my imagination or does Theo talk with a Brooklyn accent?

    Dan: "I know it's confusing, Theo. But we went to a conservatory. No birds. Only plants."

    Theo: "So, you took me to see a plant?"

    We have nothing to say to that. I take out my iPhone and show him close up two shots of the Bird of Paradise. 

 

 

    "Now do you get it? Birds of Paradise are birds. From Indonesia and Australia. They're known for their plumage and feathers. They live in rainforests." I take a deep breath. "Still, Theo, you can't go into a conservatory and eat the plants."

      Dan taps me on the shoulder and points. Theo, like Chuck, closes his eyes when he's heard enough. 

     "We'll do better next time," I tell my little gangster cat, rubbing the top of his head gently.

      One eye pops open. I could say he's got the cold hard stare of a killer. But beneath that gangster exterior is a mama's boy. I just know it.

    

   

Rascal Chuck's Destiny

  We go to the shoemaker because we believe he will have all the answers.  Is this place only a restored village? Why did Chuck suddenly disappear and then reappear in the post office of the Country Store? 

    In other words, what the heck is going on?

    "You can't just barge in there and start asking him all these questions," Dan says. 

    "Why do we even think he has all the answers, anyway?"

    "Because he's been here from the beginning."

    "The beginning?"    

     Now even Chucky is intrigued. He's been plodding along beside us as we walk down the main road of Landis Valley, headed toward the shoe maker. I glance over. Chuck looks different somehow. As if he's fading in and out. More ethereal. As if he's not really there. Even though I know he is.

    "Are you feeling okay, Chuck?" I ask.

    "I'm ready," he meows.

    What the heck does he mean by that? 

  

      Dan is ahead of us, already walking into the shoemaker's house. I scoop Chucky up and give him a big hug. "You know I love you to bits," I say. 

    "Another adventure always awaits," Chucky meows back as he leans his head into mine. 

    I get the sneaky feeling that Chuck already knows what's about to happen. That somehow he has already figured all of this out.  Why he suddenly disappeared and then reappeared.

    "Can you tell me," I ask my super wise cat.

    "It's destiny, mom," he whispers.

    I get a lump in my throat, guessing I must cherish these next few moments. 

    The shoemaker looks exactly the way I expect him to look. He's making a pair of shoes from real leather, of course, that he has cut and shaped. He has already begun to explain the process to Dan. 

    I stand in the background and listen. Chucky, of course, is sniffing his heart out. The smell of leather and sawdust is everywhere. It is a good solid smell that for some reason makes me think of my childhood. And Chucky looks happy, happier than I have ever seen him.

    I learn something from the shoemaker that I didn't know. Back in the day, before people bought ill fitting shoes from the shoe store, they had their shoes made from a shoe maker. But going to the shoe maker was step two in the process. Step one was having a carpenter make a last for you--a wooden form in the shape of your foot. You paid for and owned the last and then gave it to the shoemaker who used the form to make your shoe. 

    Shoes back then fit very well. They conformed to all the quirks and inconsistencies of your foot. 

    Finally, the shoemaker looks at us, I mean really looks at us, looks at Chuck and asks us why we are really here. "You are not here for the shoes," he says.

    "No." We tell him what has happened as we have walked around the village, and ask him if he can explain. 

    "I am not surprised. You are not the first. Yes, this village is special because we are unchanged from the past. We are half in and half out of where we used to be. The cloakroom in the school. The post office in the Country Store. And, even here."

    I look around and notice that Chucky has stopped sniffing. 

    Suddenly I understand what the shoe maker is trying to say. "Doorways to the past?"

    "Yes."

    "But where is this doorway?"

    The shoemaker points to just beyond where the half made shoes are on the table. There is a corner in his shop. "He knows. He will find his way if he is meant to go."

    "But he'll come back?" I ask.

    "Not this time," he says. 

    "But why must he go?"

    It is the hardest thing to let destiny take its course. You want to make time stand still. You want to stop the future from happening. 

    I cannot describe how we love and hold and hug our Chucky at the end. But then we must let him go. We are so grateful to have shared his journey for 14 years. 

    We watch him march toward that doorway with confidence and curiosity, the way he has always faced life. And then he is gone.

     

  What really happened . . .

    

  I have had the great honor of living with 13 cats so far in my life. They've all been special in their own way. Chuck, the rascal cat, was one of a kind. He literally bounced into my life as a kitten, inspired me to begin Hot Blogging with Chuck with his always curious and adventurous personality, and gave me oodles of love over the years. 

    It is with great sadness that we recently discovered Chucky had an inoperable tumor in his stomach/pancreas. We made the very hard decision to let him go and send him over the Rainbow Bridge to join his sisters Ella and Molly and his brother Jack. 

    We miss him each and everyday. He had a strong personality, loved to go outside and raid the neighbor's catnip garden when he was home and truly was an ambassador, eager to make friends with the neighbor cats. 

    I have to admit I feel Chucky's presence around me even now. 

    When I wanted to give up the blog and retire, he meowed--No, Mom. Let Theo take over. He can do it. I know he can. 

    When I wanted to hide away in my sorrow, he reminded me that I've always adopted cats who needs homes. It's the cycle of life. He led me to our newest two kittens--9 month old brother and sister, Michelangelo (Mico for short) and Sienna. They were rescued as feral cats from a farm, so I guess they're a bit rascally too. 

   

    Theo looks forward to introducing himself and taking you on the next adventure, but one thing we've decided--we're holding fast to our blog name: Hot Blogging with Chuck. Because you never know with Chucky, he may be back!