Almost as good, at least from Dewey’s perspective, were the new sensor posts beside the front door, which beeped if you tried to leave without checking out your library materials. Dewey’s new favorite position was just inside the left post. (Just like the left shoulder for the Dewey Carry. Was Dewey left-pawed?) He sat by that post for the first hour of every day, starting promptly at two minutes to nine. With Dewey and the posts crowding the entranceway, there was almost no space for patrons to walk. Before, it was difficult to ignore Dewey when he was in front-door greeting mode; with the new sensors, it was impossible.
BASIC RULES FOR CATS WHO HAVE A LIBRARY TO RUN
(according to Dewey Readmore Books)
First printed in the Library Cat Society newsletter, and since reprinted numerous times around the world.
1. STAFF: If you are feeling particularly lonely and wanting more attention from the staff, sit on whatever papers, project, or computer they happen to be working on at the time—but sit with your back to the person and act aloof, so as not to appear too needy. Also, be sure to continually rub against the leg of the staff person who is wearing dark brown, blue, or black for maximum effect.
2. PATRONS: No matter how long the patron plans on staying at the library, climb into their briefcase or book bag for a long comfortable sleep until they must dump you out on the table in order to leave.
3. LADDERS: Never miss an opportunity to climb on ladders. It does not matter which human is on the ladder. It only matters that you get to the top and stay there.
4. CLOSING TIME: Wait until ten minutes before closing time to get up from your nap. Just as the staff is getting ready to turn out the lights and lock the door, do all your cutest tricks in an effort to get them to stay and play with you. (Although this doesn’t work very often, sometimes they can’t resist giving in to one short game of hide-and-seek.)
5. BOXES: Your humans must realize that all boxes that enter the library are yours. It doesn’t matter how large, how small, or how full the box should be, it is yours! If you cannot fit your entire body into the box, then use whatever part of your body fits to assume ownership for naptime. (I have used one or two paws, my head, or even just my tail to gain entry and each works equally well for a truly restful sleep.)
6. MEETINGS: No matter the group, timing, or subject matter, if there is a meeting scheduled in the meeting room, you have an obligation to attend. If they have shut you out by closing the door, cry pitifully until they let you in or until someone opens the door to use the restroom or get a drink of water. After you gain entry, be sure to go around the room and greet each attendee. If there is a film or slide show, climb on any table close to the screen, settle in, and watch the film to conclusion. As the credits roll, feign extreme boredom and leave the meeting before it concludes.
And the library cat’s golden rule for all time . . .
Never forget, nor let humans forget, that you own the joint!
Chapter 18
Puss in Books
The computers weren’t the only change in Dewey’s life. Crystal, Dewey’s friend from the special education class, graduated and began a life I can’t imagine, but one I pray was happy. The little girl who had been afraid of Dewey overcame her fear of cats. She still approached the desk sometimes and asked us to lock Dewey up, but now she said it with a smile. Like any ten-year-old, she liked having adults do what she asked. The other children her age, the ones Dewey had spent Story Hour with that first year, were growing up, too. The middle school kids who had rolled pencils at him were leaving. He had been in the library six years, and it was inevitable that many of the children he had known were moving away or moving on.
Jean Hollis Clark, my assistant director, left for a new job. Eventually she was replaced by Kay Larson, whom I had known for years. Kay was laid-back and practical, a strong Iowa farm woman. She had been a chemical engineer and worked on oil rigs in the Gulf before marrying a farmer and moving back to Iowa. There were no engineering jobs in the area, so she did slaughter work for a time before landing a position at the tiny library in Petersen, about thirty miles south of Spencer. Maybe I should say the position, since the Petersen Library was a one-person show.
I hired Kay because she was good with computers, and we needed someone who could keep up with new technology. I also knew she was a cat person. In fact, twenty cats lived in her barn, as well as two in her house. “Typical tomcat,” she’d say with Iowa practicality whenever Dewey copped a little attitude or refused to engage in a patron’s two-armed hug. She thought Dewey was smart and beautiful, but she didn’t think he was anything that special.
But Dewey never lacked for friends. Tony, our painter, scratched the Dewkster whenever he came to see his wife, Sharon, who was expecting their third child. It was an unplanned pregnancy, but it made them both happy. Sharon called from the hospital the day of the birth. She was crying. “Emmy has Down syndrome,” she said. She had never suspected anything was wrong, and the surprise was shattering. Sharon took a few months off from the library, and by the time she came back she was head over heels in love with Emmy.
Dewey’s old friend Doris Armstrong still brought him little gifts and surprises, and she loved to dangle his beloved red Christmas yarn while he jumped with delight. She was as gregarious and charming as ever, but shortly after the library remodel she began to have severe attacks of vertigo. The doctors couldn’t determine the cause, so they guessed panic attacks. Then her hands began to tremble, and eventually she could barely put the covers on books. She no longer trusted herself to pet Dewey, but he didn’t mind. The more she trembled, the more he brushed his back against her arm and lounged on her desk to keep her company.
Then one morning Dewey ran into my office crying. This was unusual, but he was leading me toward his food bowl so I thought he wanted a snack. Instead, I found Doris lying on the floor of the staff room. She was having such a severe vertigo attack she couldn’t stand up. For days, she could barely eat she was so dizzy. The next time I found her on the floor, she not only had vertigo, but was sure she was having a heart attack. A few months later, Doris found a tiny black kitten. She brought the kitten to the library and, with trembling hands, held it out for me to hold. I could feel its heart racing and its lungs gasping for air. The kitten was weak, frightened, and sick.