People

Pearl confessed that she named her cat Cleopatra to compensate for the poor cat’s looks. “She is so ugly.” Cleopatra would help her self-esteem.

Pearl never owned a cat until a friend coerced her into adopting the old feline. Her days at the shelter were numbered for she had been there for nine months, three over the normal six month limit. “No one wants an old cat and if we don’t find her a home in the next couple of days…” Pearl’s friend pleas tugged at her heart. “But my dog is old, deaf and blind. I can’t subject her to a cat.” Her friend desperate to find a reasonable alternative to death for the black and white cat that looked like a puzzle someone tried to put back together without regard to the fit suggested Pearl give it a try.

“She has this beautiful white bib under a black chin and face. But she has this white splash on the side of her nose. Why did it end up there? Makes her look…ugly. And the white on her paws are all mismatched. Pearl seemed to need things neat and orderly and the markings on her first cat were anything but.

“Very different than a dog. I wasn’t so sure taking her in was a good idea. But she never bothered my dog. Not once. That was five years ago. She must be twenty years old.” Pearl thumped her leg when she explained she could not walk a dog any more. The hollow sound hung in the room. She confessed, “A cat is better and now she is my soul mate.”

I met Pearl at the Bourne Chamber of Commerce. Pearl, with hair the color of her name, had been assisting visitors to the Cape Cod town with their selection of family amusements while I browsed through literature and flyers promoting everything on the Cape except book stores. Once she finished advising a couple about a particular attraction assuring the young man that “you too will feel just like a kid again,” she asked me if I needed any help.

I immediately sensed she had a special energy despite her age and her size. The top of her head came level with my shoulder, making her a good candidate to be a “little old lady from Pasadena.” When she asked if I was traveling alone I told her about Phoenix and Diablo. That was when she shared her story about her ugly cat.

I wish I had my camera.

Cabbage and Kings Bookstore

There is a bookstore in Chatham called Cabbage and Kings Bookstore owned by Bess and Jack Moye. A couple of weeks ago Bess ordered three of my books. I stopped by this morning to introduce myself. Bess is recovering at home with a foot injury, so I met with Jack, a charming gentleman whose handsome face has not been lost with age.

He has lived on the cape since the mid forties. Jack sails, and once spent a bit of time racing out of Hyannis against all the Kennedys except John Jr., who was more interested in flying. We both paused in conversation, remembering the untimely loss.

Jack suggested that maybe in the fall we could have a book signing and he shared with me what I learned the hard way. On the Cape during the summer the regulars don’t go out because of the traffic. And the tourist, out and about don’t have a clue as to what events are happening. This makes the summer a tough time to do any special events.

A few years ago, George Plimpton, whom does Thanksgivings on the Cape, did a signing at the Cabbage. A large crowd of friends and relatives came seeking his autograph. Didn’t Nancy have a friend who dated George when they were at Purdue? Small world. And getting smaller apparently for I am having a hard time getting 1000 people to buy my book.