ng
me and Pop calmed down, she doesn't go out much or make dates with people.
She and Kate would chat together in the stores or sitting on the stoop on
a sunny day. Kate shook her head over Mom's asthma and said she'd get over
it if she ate cottage cheese every day. Mom ate it for a while, but she
put mayonnaise on it, which Kate says is just like poison.

The day of the fight with Pop about the Belafonte record it's cold and
windy out and there are no kids in sight. I slam my ball back and forth
against the wall where it says "No Ball Playing," just to limber up and
let off a little spite, and then I go over to see Kate.

Kate has a permanent cat named Susan and however many kittens Susan
happens to have just had. It varies. Usually there are a few other
temporary stray kittens in the apartment, but I never saw any father cat
there before. Today Susan and her kittens are under the stove, and Susan
keeps hissing at a big tiger-striped tomcat crouching under the sofa. He
turns his head away from her and looks like he never intended to get mixed
up with family life. For a stray cat he's sleek and healthy-looking. Every
time he moves a whisker, Susan hisses again, warningly. She believes in no
visiting rights for fathers.

Kate pours me some tea and asks what's doing.

"My pop is full of hot air, as usual," I say.

"Takes one to know one," Kate says, catching me off base. I change the
subject.

"How come the kittens' pop is around the house? I never saw a full-grown
tom here before."

"He saw me buying some cans of cat food, so he followed me home. Susan
isn't admitting she ever knew him or ever wants to. I'll give him another
feed and send him on his way, I guess. He's a handsome young fellow." Kate
strokes him between the ears, and he rotates his head. Susan hisses.

He starts to pull back farther under the sofa. Without stopping to think
myself, or giving him time to, I pick him up. Susan arches up and spits. I
can feel the muscles in his body tense up as he gets ready to spring out
of my lap. Then he changes his mind and decides to take advantage of the
lap. He narrows his eyes and gives Susan a bored look and turns his head
to take me in. After he's sized me up, he pretends he only turned around
to lick his back.

"Cat," I say to him, "how about coming home with me?"

"Hah!" Kate laughs. "Your pop will throw him out faster than you can say
'good old Jeff.'"

"Yeah-h?" I say it slowly and do some thinking.