I never told Mom about the mouse.
It was near the end of June when Fluffy first met Dad.
Mom and I did all right as long as Dad stayed away and sent the support checks on time. But that didn’t always happen. There was a time during the spring when I didn’t see him for quite awhile. Mom said he’d checked into the hospital for some kind of treatment, and maybe when he got out he wouldn’t be like he was anymore.
I would have liked that, but it didn’t happen.
Dad’s old pickup drove up that morning and Mom said, “Say hello to your father, Joey, and then I want you to go up in your camp and wait lor me to come get you. Your Dad and I have some stuff to talk about.”
Dad came in without knocking, carrying a six-pack, and tried to give me a hug. “Joey, boy!” he said. “How’s my little man, hey?”
“I’m not your little man,” I said.
“Sure you are. son. Sure you are,” he said, but he wasn’t even looking at me then, just at Mom with that look in his eyes. I could smell he’d already been drinking that morning Right now he was in a good mood, but alter a few more beers I wouldn’t want to be anywhere close.
I went out to the camp and Fluffy and I just waited for Mom. Fluffy took a nap and I was bored. After a while I climbed down and looked out the window of the garage. I could see into Mom’s bedroom from there, and she and Dad were in there and he was on top of her.
The first time I ever saw that, I thought Dad was beating Mom up, but she never was trying to get away. Usually when this happened, Dad would leave happy and Mom would be sad, but we’d have money to go buy groceries that day, and Mom would always get me extra stuff, like potato chips and ice cream, and we’d order out for pizza that night.
Fluffy came down and joined me, and I petted him while I was watching. A few minutes later Mom and Dad were done and Dad came outside.
“Come and say good-bye to your daddy, boy!” he called. He could see me through the garage window so I couldn’t pretend to be gone, so I came out. I could tell he’d had a few more beers, so I didn’t want to do anything to make him mad. But while I was walking toward him, Fluffy flew out of the garage and ran between Dad’s legs, and Dad tripped over him.
“Damn cat!” Dad yelled, jumping up. “Stupid little bastard!” He took a step toward Fluffy and kicked him a good ten feet. Fluffy landed and rolled then was up hissing and spitting, and glaring at Dad like he wanted to kill him. Dad saw that and said, “So you want more, huh?”
He started toward Fluffy again but I ran in between them. “No, Dad! Please don’t!”
“Get out of my way, boy!”
“No.”
Dad slapped me with the back of his hand and I fell down; Mom came out screaming at Dad about calling the cops and Dad laughed and got in his truck and drove off.
Later, I found Fluffy up in the camp. He wasn’t sleeping but he didn’t want me messing with him, either. He just laid there staring at nothing I could see, like people sometimes do when they’re thinking real hard.
We had pizza that night, and Mom let me stay up late, too.
A few weeks later another problem came up.
Fluffy was sleeping and I had to go over to the Stop and Go to get some milk for Mom. When I walked over there I noticed a sign tacked up next to the door. I saw it from far away and somehow I knew it was going to be bad news for me, even though I couldn’t read it from there.
I got close and read it. I was right.
BEWARE OF CATS.
If you find any cats that are the size of kittens but don’t act like kittens, and never seem to grow any bigger, and seem a lot smarter than a cat should be, call JEFF at 555-7263 right away. These cats are the result of a failed biological experiment and can be VERY DANGEROUS.
The sign was written by hand with a black magic marker, except for the big words which were written in red. I knew Fluffy was one of those cats. But I couldn’t see Fluffy ever doing any thing that was dangerous to me or anyone else. Sure, he did some weird stuff for a cat, but mostly he just liked to lay around and be petted and sleep and eat.
I tore the sign down and threw it in the dumpster in back.
The next week Dad came to visit again. This time I stayed up in my camp the whole time. I didn’t want a repeat of last time. Fluffy was sleeping next to me and I was looking at the pictures in my Playboy when I heard Dad’s voice outside the garage.
Fluffy heard him too and sat bolt upright and went to look over the edge to see if Dad was there.
“C’mere, boy,” Dad said. “Yer daddy’s leavin’—” and the rest was kind of a slur. Dad had been extra drunk this time even before he came over. He opened the garage door.
I pulled Fluffy back from the edge, but he turned and scratched me and I had to let go. He jumped out of the camp and across a couple rafters and sat there staring at Dad.
Dad didn’t even see him. “Where the hell are you, boy! Little bastard! Come see yer Dad. You up in that goddamn camp again?” he hollered. I held back but then he started to climb up the ladder.
I pretended I was just waking up. “I’m here, Dad. I was sleeping.”
It was too late for that.
“Bullshit! Don’t lie to your old man. Come down here!”
I climbed down the ladder. Dad already had his belt off. “Bend o’er ya little shit. Teach ya to lie to yer father!” and then he let me have it.
The first one hurt the most. After that I was able to get on the ground and curl up and Dad didn’t whip me unless he was real drunk so half the time he’d miss when I was lying down. He got tired last, too.
Mom finally busted in but Dad was done by then. There was a lot of screaming and yelling and threats to call the cops, and Dad finally left. Mom was crying and said she was sorry and that she didn’t hear because she was in the bathroom trying to wash Dad’s stink off, and I let myself cry a little bit to make her feel like she was doing me some good by hugging me so hard I could hardly breathe.
As we were leaving the garage I looked up and saw Fluffy. He’d watched the whole thing.
It was a pretty good summer as long as Dad wasn’t around. July was a lot of fun, what with me and Raymond and Billy always hiking through the woods and exploring the hills out where the train tracks disappeared around the bend. Fluffy would come with us, and so would Billy’s dog. You’d think a dog and cat would fight it out, but Fluffy and Blacky didn’t. Blacky liked Fluffy. He’d always let Fluffy have the first drink when we’d come to a stream. Always.
I always brought along a little bottle with gasoline in it on our hikes. We’d use it to help light fires when we were far enough away not to get caught by grown ups.
We’d roast marshmallows. Fluffy loved marshmallows and seemed to know all about roasting them right from the start. But he’d only eat them if they caught on fire first so the outside was burned black.
Near the end of July that guy had been back to the Stop and Go because there was another sign up warning about cats. I took that one down, too.
The next morning that Dad came I went off on a hike early that day so I wouldn’t have to see him.
August was the best month for me that whole summer. Mr. Farmer (that was Billy’s Dad) said he’d take me and Billy camping up in the state forest. I spent a lot of time over at Billy’s that week before we left, packing and planning for the trip. Ray was kind of mad at us because his Dad didn’t like Billy’s Dad so he couldn’t go with us.
Sometimes it’s better not to have a Dad. A real Dad, that is.
I’ve always liked Mr. Farmer. He’s a great big guy with a brown beard and he laughs at everything. And Billy says he only goes through about one six-pack a summer.