I just saw a pretty little gray and white Manx cat go past my window. Now, I’ll admit I have a soft spot in my heart for Manx cats. Mom’s cat Boxcar was a Manx. She had only one litter of kittens in her entire life, two little Siamese and a tiny runt, born a whole day after the first two, that looked just like her. I wanted that tiny tuft of fur and when he was weaned, I took him home. I called him Rinehart, after one of my all-time favorite authors. I loved that little fellow and the funny thing was, Matt’s dog Lady loved him too. They were pals. Lady would lie down on our very long driveway each day, waiting for me to come home from school. Riney lay on top of her, a furry, uncomplaining rug to rest on. One day Rinehart disappeared and although I searched and called, he never did come home. I grieved and Lady grieved. The first night after he was lost, she stood at the back door and howled, one shivering, heart-broken cry.
And this little Manx who passed by my yard also reminded me of a children’s book, The Winter Cat by Howard Knotts. My copy was published by Reader’s Digest in 1973 through an agreement with Harper & Row. That book, like Lady, belonged to Matt but I liked it too. If you can find a copy and have some children in your life, I’ll bet they would enjoy it. Good literature doesn’t get out-dated and can never be unloved.
It seems one time I wrote a story called The Christmas Cat, but I wasn’t as fortunate as Howard Knotts. Mine never saw the light of day. However, one good thing about being an author is I get to include things I love in my cozies. So, of course, Darcy and Flora have a cat. Even though his name isn’t Rinehart, he is an integral part of their lives just as Riney was an integral part of mine.
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