by Sandi Ward
Praise for The Astonishing Thing
“The Astonishing Thing is a unique and poignant tale of a family’s struggle as witnessed by someone who sees everything. A heartfelt homage to the four-legged companions who accompany us through life’s toughest times, this is a triumphant debut for Sandi Ward.”
—Helen Brown, New York Times bestselling author of Cleo
“This sweet and insightful book, told from the perspective of the bright and loving cat Boo, follows the story of Boo’s family. This touching tale provides a beautiful and touching look into the intricacies of marriage and family life, all seen through the loving and unique perspective of the family pet.”
—Modern Cat
“The Astonishing Thing is so much more than a debut. Sandi Ward’s writing will enrapture you, pull you in by the heart, and insist you become part of her story.”
—Karen Sargent, author of Waiting for Butterflies
“This is a truly special book, one that captured my heart from the very first line. In Boo the cat, Sandi Ward has worked magic to create an utterly believable narrator with the consciousness and emotions of both a feline and a human member of a close-knit but troubled family, and with the wisdom of—well, the wisdom of a creature who loves deeply and unconditionally those with whom she shares a home. And we trust this wise and yet vulnerable narrative voice as if it were indeed possible. The Astonishing Thing feels like a bit of a miracle and we all could use a miracle.”
—Holly Chamberlin, author of Home for the Summer
Please turn the page for more advance praise for The Astonishing Thing!
More outstanding praise for The Astonishing Thing!
“This charming novel reminds us that love and salvation can come in the most unexpected ways. I suspect all of us will look at our cats differently after reading this book.”
—Susan Breen, author of the Maggie Dove mystery series
“Bittersweet, insightful, poignant and devastatingly original. The Astonishing Thing will stay with you for a long time.”
—Barbara Bos
THE ASTONISHING THING
SANDI WARD
KENSINGTON BOOKS
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Praise for The Astonishing Thing
More outstanding praise for The Astonishing Thing!
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1 - A Sweet Life
2 - The Baby
3 - An Ominous Phone Call
4 - Ghosts
5 - Halloween
6 - We Are Alone in This
7 - Trimming the Branches at 2 a.m.
8 - What Is Under the Bed
9 - Ten Fingers, Ten Toes
10 - Getting Ready for the Big, Big Holiday
11 - What I Think You Have Already Figured Out
12 - Door Darter
13 - Mary’s Request
14 - Corned Beef and Cabbage
15 - Tequila
16 - Back in Black
17 - Space and Energy
18 - Lonely Hearts
19 - The Jump
20 - This Is the Easy Part
21 - New Flannel Sheets
22 - Snap
23 - Big Date
24 - Woman in Blue
25 - Empty Closet
26 - Drawing the Line
27 - Dance Party
28 - A Sweet Life, Again
Acknowledgments
A READING GROUP GUIDE
Discussion Questions
Teaser chapter
Author’s Note
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2017 by Sandra Ward
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-1112-0
eISBN-10: 1-4967-1112-2
First Kensington Electronic Edition: November 2017
ISBN: 978-1-4967-1111-3
For Michael, Hunter, and Summer
1
A Sweet Life
Let me tell you about my mother.
Mother is soft curves and encouraging coos. She gives careful scratches to my head and is cautious with my whiskers and ears. Mother holds me calmly and never yells. Her hair is long and dark and curly, and I love to chew on strands when I can get close enough.
Mother has many names for me: Sweetie, Cutie, Pretty Girl, Fat Fat, and Lovey. When she calls, “Here, Boo!” I run for her, because that means food.
Mother is my life, my constant companion, my soul mate. But she has not said my name in several days. Mother went out, and I am waiting for her to come back.
I don’t have clear memories of the day she picked me out, but I have a recollection of being one among hundreds of cats in dark cages along a very long wall. When Mother lifted me out of my cage, I hung limp in her hands and felt secure as she pressed me gently against her chest. Her scent was instantly pleasing to me, like fresh milk. She was so confident that I was the right one that she passed me around, first to Girl, and then to Boy, who would become my sister and brother. I was a perfect fit, not just for Mother’s shoulder but also for this family.
Mother is kind. She feeds me the food I like, on time, morning and night. Mother is home all day, and I sit in her warm lap if she is watching the television. If I choose to lie right in the middle of the kitchen floor, my long, cream-colored fur sticking up with static and my tummy fat spread out over the tiles, she carefully and considerately steps over me.
Best of all, I nestle with her at night, first right by her head for a good purr and then down by her feet. In the morning, I push the comforter aside with my head and extend my claws to gently scratch her hand so she will get up and feed me. And she always gets up. Always!
Of course, we are not alone in this house.
My brother, the oldest child, is tall and lanky. He is friendly to me but sometimes trips over his own feet, so I watch out when he comes running. Brother spends a lot of time at his desk in front of a big machine, pressing buttons and occasionally giving a cheer or cursing his head off. Sometimes I sit and paw at the little things moving on the screen. He always laughs and doesn’t seem to mind.
My sister is good with me, and I will sit in her lap if she is reading. She stays in her room a lot, where it is warm and the light is welcoming. She has a poster tacked onto her wall that she touches or kisses when she enters or leaves the room. There are boys on this poster, and she seems to worship them. Sister also taps and talks into a small phone, mostly about things that sound very, very exciting and dramatic.
Sister has a child, a strange fluffy brown creature who is Not a Cat. He sleeps with her, like I sleep with Mother.
Not a Cat will try to get me to chase him, but I have no interest. He chirps and barks, spinning in circles. I just sit and watch, occasionally doling out a scratch with my meaty paw, which sends him running. I am bigger than him, and outweigh him by quite a bit. I am also smarter.
Then there’s the man. He has silky hair on his head and a face the color of tarnished gold, and he is the biggest of all. When I was a kitten, I thought of him as the Man-Lion. He is not m
y father, and he does not cuddle or feed me, but he is Mother’s mate. He lies down with Mother at night, and I avoid his side of the bed. I know he is strong, because I have seen him lift things. He tromps around, and I hustle to get out of his way. Not that I am afraid of him. I am just smart enough to move when I see a bull charging at me. We have a mutual dislike. But I reluctantly see why Mother likes him; he is handsome in his way, and proud, and speaks with a low tone that commands respect.
Still, I’m not sure why Mother needs him. She is the hunter and feeder of this family.
I have a nice home. This house is in a cold place. Summers are short. During most of the year, when the humans come in from the outside they are surrounded by a cloud of chilly air. Not a Cat comes in with ice and snow caked onto his paws. I know what snow is, even though I am never allowed outside, because the humans track it in and down the hall. I’ll bat it with my paw and lick any ice until my tongue turns numb.
I don’t mind being kept inside. This house is more than enough for me. And when Man gets the fire going, it is very cozy.
I don’t know what Man does most days when he leaves the house, but I have heard the children say that he fights with fire. Occasionally he gets up in the middle of the night when a loud horn is sounding from somewhere outside. He comes back smelling like the fireplace, but much stronger, so acrid that it makes my eyes water, and I realize he must have walked through fire. It puzzles me, because I know that fire gets very hot and I cannot sit too close to the fireplace before it starts to feel uncomfortable. I wonder how he can stand it.
The family avoids him until he has washed off the black dust and bitter scent, and they know to stay away if he broods after that. Sometimes he seems sad or exhausted, and he avoids my siblings, finding a seat away from them for a while.
He acts no differently toward me, because to me he is neither kind nor unkind. It is just as if I am invisible, as if I do not exist.
Man calls Mother “Carrie” when he is being serious. Maybe because she carries this family with all of the work she does. He calls her “Care” when he is pleading or he wants something. It seems he always wants something.
She calls him “Tom” or “Tommy.” Or “Stupid,” when she is mad at him.
Mother has the right touch, and I am her constant companion. She gently caresses the space between my ears and very carefully tickles my nose. At night, things get busy, but she doesn’t forget about me. Late at night when my brother and sister are in bed, I have her to myself.
If Mother stops petting me and decides to touch the man, I don’t get upset. I sit on the back of the couch above their heads waiting my turn. He likes a scratch behind his ears too, and she’ll run her fingers through his hair like she does to my fur. We all must share Mother. I understand.
Sometimes at night when Man gets into bed I have to jump down for a little while, because he moves around too much. But I always return. Sometimes I catch him staring at me, only for a second. I cannot interpret his intentions. I ignore humans that I don’t understand. As I said, we don’t like each other, but we are stuck with each other.
And now I have lost all happiness, because Mother has gone out and not returned. Days and nights have passed. And yet the rest of the family is here. They are unusually quiet, and only mention Mother’s name in whispers.
This has never happened before.
2
The Baby
I think the baby is the source of our problems.
I have not mentioned the baby yet. He is the newest member of our family. We had a good life before the baby came.
This is a big, old, drafty house. When I sit by a window, I feel a cold wind leaking right through the wall. I like playing in the dusty corners and padding up the creaky stairs. At night, there is often a blazing fire in the fireplace, and there is nothing I love more than sitting on a pillow placed near the hearth.
Before that baby arrived, we often enjoyed quiet evenings in the living room, with the TV playing. I found it amusing to watch Man sneak in and tickle my siblings from behind, reaching over the couch. Even though they are older children, as tall as he is, they would laugh and shriek.
“Nooooo, cut it out,” my sister begged, doubling over while giggling. “Daddy, stop!”
“You scared the crap out of me,” my brother would yelp, jumping away with a grin. “I’ll get you for this. I’m too fast for you, Pops. You’d better watch your back.”
When she was here, Mother liked to sit apart from the others, and as much as I loved the warmth of the fire, I often joined her. I could see how she valued me above the rest of the family, but they pretended not to notice. I was always Mother’s favorite. She preferred being with me to being with the humans.
I realized something was different about Mother when I noticed how slowly she waddled around the kitchen. I thought perhaps she was putting on weight due to the fact that she rarely left the house. I have put on extra pounds over time myself. So that alone wasn’t a cause for concern.
I cuddled with her at night as she grew, and her expanding belly gave me a nice pocket of warmth to snuggle into, right by her chest. I didn’t think about it too much, until one night something in her stomach jabbed me in the ribs. It hit me all at once.
Of course, a baby! She was pregnant. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t figured it out earlier.
Mother has always taken comfort in my purring, but she began hugging me in bed tighter than ever. I was happy to help out.
At the same time, I was a little confused, because my brother and sister are much older. I guess I just wasn’t expecting another sibling. I thought I would always be the baby of the family.
Around the time I recognized Mother was pregnant, Man began acting erratically. He seemed excited and eager to make preparations for the baby. While sprawled out on the wood floor, taking an afternoon catnap, I watched him pull down the attic door. He made many trips up the ladder, sweat coating his face. He worked hard carrying down all sorts of strange things, including a giant, ridiculous baby cage. Man was up half the night, banging and cursing and putting the thing together. But his energy was interesting to watch.
Mother, on the other hand, grew very still. She stayed in bed, even during the day. It seemed difficult for her to get up or roll over. Brother and Sister came to her with all sorts of complaints. I scowled at them, and hissed when they flew at her too quickly. I didn’t like them bothering Mother when she was tired.
Most worrisome, sometimes Mother didn’t even have the energy to lift her head. I was so worried about her. As much as I loved to lie with her, I started to wonder if something was seriously wrong.
In fact, the only thing that consistently got Mother out of bed was my dinnertime. She padded her way downstairs and filled my bowls. Once in a while she would feed the other children, but not always. I was flattered and grateful, but also puzzled.
I could see sorrow and disappointment in the faces of my siblings as they watched our mother head back upstairs. I felt sorry for them.
But I also thought that perhaps the humans just didn’t understand what Mother was going through. I decided that maybe she was sick, and needed a doctor. I tried to get everyone’s attention, but I am limited in what I can communicate. I wanted to ask, Why aren’t you helping her?
When I meowed, Not a Cat would bark and try to play with me. Sister would talk to me and pet my head. But I was upset and not playful.
When I was desperate, I got right up near my brother’s big machine and pushed my head into his elbow. I licked and groomed his bare arm, tasting the salt on his skin. I yowled as loud as I could. But Brother seemed to think I was looking for attention. “Hey, Boo,” he said to me. “You’re a good girl. You’re a sweetie pie. You’re a big, fat meatball of lovey-dovey fluff.” He scratched my neck and kissed my head, but that wasn’t what I wanted at all.
I wanted him to help Mother.
I grew frantic, and wondered if I could get Mother to help herself. I jumped up to Mother’s bed
and pawed at her hand, then pushed the blanket down with my head. She did not get up, but she did eventually stroke my back, and I purred as loud as I could to show her how much I appreciated it.
Man didn’t have much luck with Mother either when he tried to comfort her. He seemed to sense, as I did, that she was in some measure of distress. Man would lie behind her and try to put his arm over her, but she pushed him away. At one point, she began slapping his hand, as if his touch burned her skin.
“But Carrie, I just want—”
“No.” She cursed and railed at him: “Stop. Leave me alone, Tommy.”
I could see she blamed him for the whole situation.
One night, when Mother’s belly was enormous, she had a bad fight with Man. They were on the couch in the living room, with Mother sitting up but slumped over as if she was having trouble staying awake. I lay on the floor, watching.
Man spoke to her very intensely. He grabbed her arms and forced her to look at him. “Carrie,” he begged her. “Please. Listen to me. You can’t lie down all day. It’s not good for you, or the baby. Just try to get up once in a while and eat something.” More talking and more talking. I could see Mother was sick of it, but he just kept on talking. It amazes me what Man does not see and does not understand. I guess he is proud and strong and thinks he knows best. He kept it up even when she winced and hung her head in exhaustion. Man kissed her cheeks and forehead, and tried to hold her, but she just squirmed and protested and turned her face away. I could see she had had enough. Enough of him, enough of the pregnancy. Mother is my best friend, and I could see how she felt about things.
Eventually Man left the room. Good riddance, I thought. I jumped right up to comfort poor Mother.