Chapter 4: Congress of Cats

She had nine black cats and one white … with whom she conversed, or read their memories … so that she knew those things 'that men wish most to keep hidden,' setting the white cat to spy upon the black …

— J. R. R. Tolkien

Gospel stood in the French doors opening onto the sagging balcony, which her antics had further divorced from the house. “Momma, I’m home,” she called.

Serena padded out the door, cup of tea in hand. She held it out and Gospel took it and drank.

At the same time, Pastor C. Blossom Alcatraz was feeding the cats.

She’d taken off her bonnet and her gray hair hung heavy on her shoulders, in front and behind. She gathered six bowls for food and six for water, carried them out back of The Magic Lantern, and arranged them in a half-circle. There was a little dim light from the street, but it was behind the strip of buildings, and The Magic Lantern and its neighbors cast a long deep shadow, even though it was not quite fully dark.

When the bowls were placed on the pavement, Pastor Bea went inside and brought out cat food and filled six of them. Then she brought a pitcher and poured water into the other six. She squatted on her haunches, much as she did while she waited to see if Gospel was OK. The cats that had been twining closer trotted swiftly to the bowls and began eating — three or four to a bowl, for there were a lot of cats out here.

Look at her closely as your eyes adjust to the light. She’s not as bulky as she seemed to Gospel. Tallish, partly because of the thick heels on her stout boots. But most of her bulk’s loose black cloth and crinolines. She’s underfed, in fact, and her fabric and sinew’s hanging from her broad shoulders like old clothes from a hanger.

The cats, black and white and tortoiseshell, finish eating and drinking one at a time. They meander up to Pastor Bea for affection, and she caresses them all. Then she squats lower, hawkish profile almost propped on her knees.

She whispers to the cats.

They listen, twining around her. One big calico cat presses her head up under Pastor Bea’s hand and looks at her eye-to-eye for a while.

“Yes, yes indeed,” says Pastor Bea. “That’s it exactly. And thank you.”

One by one, south, west, and east, even north under or over The Green Lantern, the cats go as silently as they came.