Thankful: A Modern Fable

8/4/2019 Thankful: A Modern Fable

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A Modern Fable

Ellis H. Thom

© 2011 Ellis H. Thom.

All Rights Reserved.



A Modern Fable

Ellis H. Thom

Oh, the blackened ruintheir "tolerance" became

that night we danced to thelights of flame. Sirens a'wailing as the doubters

Wondered how it all couldhave happened that last fourthThursday in November.

The flame had so long shonein his eyes alone thatto see its fires beforehim now, forgetting all his

Piques and ires, time stood stock still, he swishing only

his tail, as darkness blazedaround us, my cat at

last had found

the Onewhose

Works even he admired.

Sue, tell them this:

I

Where shadows a spreading oak once cast, now billboard signs didmaster, the sun so dazzling, there

sat the humble office of aVeterinarian

1



"Old boy, now don't fret – an extraVaccine won't hurt you, though ISuppose," whispered the old doctor,"Some cut of the proceeds

is due you yet."

Then he passed from betweenus to deliver for some unsuspecting soulthe same health report onthat Dear Little Pet hehad given the last poor sucker who fell into

the net.

What amazed my mind wasnot the beauty, nor the

soft glowing, knowing gazethat shone from dark green eyes,But to realize IHad seen that look before,

Once, twice, perhaps more:

This Summer this one Cat had madea half-dozen trips to the vet,with at least as many owners –

his eyes positively blazed tosee I could see

A genius, his genius behind this scheme.

"Don't look so shocked."

Shocked I looked all the more, ashe issued a little snicker.

"Yes, I can talk,or at least you can hear me – How?"

2



asked he, Readingthe word my lips tried toform but kept failing, Paused . . .

(This summer job might well

prove my undoing)

Then explained:"I learned as

a kitten by watching toomuch Television. Most

people hear me as theyhear the pundits on screen,a soft murmuring o'er the phorescent flicker

that draws themlike moths to

A flame.”

"You understand, I wouldguess, because your life has fallen

into a mess,young and confused, unsure

what path to choose.Law school?

Oh yes, you are confused . . .

“When I speak the young tendto listen, for just tohear a Cat talk is its

own form of dissension."

I was incredulous:"So you travel around talking,and these people, your Owners,"

his eyes narrowed askew,"They just don't pay attention?"

"None to me, much less toeach other. I could blamethem, I suppose, but that's

America these days.”

3



Then with a pensive look,like any mother's, gushed:

"My own dear children have

gone through the phase!"

"Children,” I queried,“Children you say?"

"Why, the children I raisedstraight up from head start throughcollege age . . ."

"How did you get children?"

I gasped, imagining the poor babes paw-snatched from their cradles . . .

"The couple who took meas a kitten wantedchildren, to fulfill their Reproductive Mission,which apparently didnot include waking to

midnight cries or learning,

to tell little children'slies – So they threw up their

hands in desperation,then sought a complete and

total Separation.

"When the Judge asked the Kidswhich parent they preferred,

they quite sensibly askedfor the Parent

with Fur.

“Testified their each day began with my cool pink

nose touched to soft sleepingcheek, much the same their nights

4



would refuge in my warmcoat seek. The judge ordered

child support, paid to TheCat, at $450 a week.

"Things went along fine solong as the checks came

on time:The kids thrived on

soccer games and honorsclasses, never missed theSunday masses, grew to

teenagers I could just barely tame, then into

fine young men and women

packed for Harvard to makethemselves a name;

"A time more bitter thansweet for not only the

children, but their cash flow,I could not keep . . .

"The bank foreclosed three weeks

later. My call went outto the children's father Sawyer, who assured me,

as he was a lawyer,that any Duty to

me had ceased once all thekids had gone Northeast.

“I began to beg, tocall upon many years

of promises made:

"He flat reneged, told meI hadn't a right – And

he could sleep quite well atnight –

Because I was,

5



atthe last,

Only a Cat."

She held the phone at a distance,as her eyes watched the footage

of leaping, gulping flames.

"Why don't your children helpyou?"

The cat cast his eyes downupon himself, as if he

would rather have melted.

"They should never know this pain was felt; No, mine is

to play the hand fate hasdealt. Besides, without thehouse, they may realize" –

His eyes hardened to astare –

"Their Mother is just

a wad of hair."

Cats act on instinct, hewould tell me, a hidden

Pulse thatguides the minds, of

even the one who talks;

He smiled, the warm summer rains beginning to fall.

As we drove away, what, Iasked, should I call you?

He had a name but thought to useanother, as he thoughtit strange for me to call him

6



“Mother”

"The Sawyers named me asa kitten; what was that

name? Oh, I had almost

forgotten! They found mein a woodpile on a

dark gray late autumn daythat coincided, I

believe, with that drear oldholiday you would call

'Thanksgiving.'

"Oh, yes, the delight thatshone in their eyes as they

stroked my downy soft fur and felt the warmth of the

house (that house,now lost) melt

my fears and fill me withthe gratitude of a

soft, heartfeltPurr.

"They named me

Thankful."

II.

Thankful helped prepare myoral argument for thefinal moot court round, threemonths to-the-day beforeChristmas.

The flu struck me and sappedmy will to fight, but Thankful became outrageous:

“We've prepped this argument

7



for weeks, and know this, too:We're right!” "I have the flu. If you want itdone," said I, "It needs to be done

by you."

Then I fell to so deep a sleepI barely heard the door,and never heard him speak, as it:

click .

I gathered strength enough to seethe debate that night, thoughI could not argue my own round,

seating my sickened self deep inthe audience, near the last row.

Time came for my round, oncethe opponent did his darnedest(even in my absence), they lookedaround for the next speaker when,much to my surprise, he

leapt up from the ground.

Thankful breathed in deep thesilence that now thickenedall around, breathed in hard,

Way, way down, past his tailto his being and its core,

then Thankful decided:He would soar.

The room ignited, as his lumesflashed open like streaks of green lightning:

All the factsdistinguished, cases cited,Thankful then went far beyond,to the world of ideas thought, by

8



most, dead and gone; he sangits mighty anthem of a now

uncommon song.

No one, it seemed,

could help but admire theeloquence he displayed,his passion for the truth, and yes,his fire.

And with all their minds soinspired, no one noticed or inquired why one girl near the back kept shouting:

"Liar! Listen, I'm telling you,

that's nothing buta Cat!”

At the conclusion, a trim,angled outline rose from thefirst row, turned to reveal aface we all know: the Governor,none other, rose to offer his

congratulations tothis former housecat and mother.

He offered more, I would learn,thanmere support.

III.

"Nick, Nick, do you think theyknow that

I am a Cat?"

We both just stared afar as I mindlessly steered the car.

9



"I don't know,” came my voicewith an honest replyand false confidence, likediscussing whether a

relative will get out on parole.

As we searched the state buildings,and found the Governor's office,I heard Thankful reassurehimself:

"Well, maybe they just won't

Notice."

Before the hearing that noon,we were to meet the governor'stop aide, one Rahland Karve, by name; a man whose thinning, jet black hair matched the darker bands of his pinstriped suit, shirt,and heart.

Karve received us, then shut thedoor. He had a few questionsto ascertain, seeming not tonotice Thankful walked on

legs of four.

First, Karve asked, did Thankfulhave any lingeringcharges, scandals, or ghostsin his past?

Thankful thought hard to come upwith something, sensing a “no”answer would stretch beyondKarve's belief;

Thankful looked up and said,

10



"I guess I should tell youabout this, just to share

It will be a relief:

"One day, years ago, Icame down the stairs, to find

my sister and brother dead – One on top of the

Other!

"Now, before you jump toconclusions, please hear meout; oh, what Scandal my

family has felt!

"It happened just like this:My sister Sandra, a

golden-blond long-hair wholiked to view herself in

the hall mirror (anymirror in fact) was so

doing that day when . . .

"Brother Antonin came

along his usualunyielding way, saw aBook on

the top shelf (hethought he could use for his

own self)and so took a

running leap, followed by ...”

"This is really not all thatinteresting," Karve interrupted.

Thankful looked at him withanxious eyes.

"Look," said Karve, "let's get downto the bottom line: How will

11



you feel,"he cast an icy stare,"When that all-important

issue comes up on appeal?"

"All-important issue?which do you mean?" Thankful

answered, perplexed, as he tuckedhis tail up under his legs.

"Which do I mean? The onethat turns out the vote and

cranks our machine."Seeing

Thankful's confusion had

not abated, Karve screamedwith all his might:

"Life!"

"Oh!"Thankful said with an

air of relief,“I have

always believed in each

child's right to make his or her way into Life.

“ I couldn’t make anyother decision – Why,

my youngest son would nothave come without my first

promising his mother to raise him.

Believe me,Mr. Karve,

as adoptive parentof three children myself,

the value of Life hasmuch value to me!"

12



"Glad to hear it," said Karve,

raring back in his chair,"You adopted three kids yourself?

fantastic – what great copy

for the Press that'll make!"

"Oh, I'm so glad, Mr.Karve, you agree!" Thankful

said. "So, tell me then:

How manydo you plan

to take?"

"Pardon me?" Karve said.

"How many children doyou plan on taking?"

"Children . . ."Now, it was Karve whose words

were lacking.

"Well, I took three, and for

the children's sake, we'll allhave to do a part – So,how many should I put

you down for? Maybe justone or

two, to start?"

Karve reddened, his teeth clenched:"Just get out there," he said, "The

hearing's about to start!I don't know what to think,"

his hands wringing, finger wagging:

"You, my friend, just better playyour own part!"

13



I'd rather be there, she thought

The hearing did not last long,recessing early so Thankfulmight arrange his facts to

respond to a new anddevastating charge:

Thankfulhad never, not even once,it seemed, paid the Income Tax.

Rahland Karve nearly hit theroof, said he could not believeThankful would keep such a thingup his sleeve.

Thankful felt so relievedthey clamored over his taxesrather than his cat-ness that hedumped the rouse altogether:

"Oh,Rahl, is all this over

that? Well, there's a perfectexplanation – I don't

pay taxes, Rahl, because . . .I'm a Cat!"

"Well, that's the craziest thingI've ever heard,” said Karve,

“Positively absurd!"

"Rahl, look at me! Can't yousee my fluffy tail, cotton-ball paws, with sharp little

claws? Whiskersand my cool

pink nose? Rahl, in case youhaven't noticed,

I'm notwearing any clothes! I

sport long brown fur. Pet me,

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Rahl, and I might just purr!"

“Look, you can't go out thereand tell them that – You've got to

get a better line than justsaying, 'I'm a Cat.'”

The committee came to order and once again the chairmandemanded an account:"Why, sir, don't you pay your just amount?"

“Well, Mr. Chairman,

you see . . ."

Thankful paused to think hardfor another reason,when his mind lit on a storythat just happened to bethe truth:

"It's quite simple,"said he,

"I pay no tax because . . .I'm Judgment-Proof!"

"Judgment-Proof?!"

Tremors swept through the room."We can't let people know aboutthis – It might just spell our doom!"

But it was too late, the wholeaffair had been whisperedthrough the crowd . . .

The reporters couldn't make outwhat he'd said – an awkward silence – the only sound came from near

15



the back, someone muttering,Something about a Cat . . .

Thankful desponded as weleft the hearing room, thinking

his chance at the big time hadfallen through, until weencountered a worn, leathered

old face:

It was Sue, the older ladywho typed Rahland Karve's memos,fetched coffee, and took the barkingorders he gave; she worked in the building but looked out of place

away from her desk, her eyesshined now where before we sawonly blanks – and something elsenew:

a cautious smileon her face.

What, she asked Thankful, didthis "Judgment Proof" mean?

We stepped outside and there, toour surprise, found a crowd withdozens of ordinary folks,who thought life had passed them by,

Until, that is, this brown-some-whiteCat told them that they, yes they,had it all figured out:

These poor, downtrodden and castout,all along thought themselves poor, but now knew their honor:

It was, to tell the truth,

16



pretty damn goodto be Judgment Proof!

A rich young man pushed tothe front of the crowd. "Oh,

Mr. Thankful, how mightI, too, come to deserve

such honors?"

"Well,"Thankful began to ponder,

"It's simple I suppose: Sell allyou have –

and give it to the poor!"

The crowd sent up a cheer, thenrenounced their careers, and(shock!) started handing out to perfect strangers their fists fullof money.

A new religion was born, tohail Thankful as its prophet.

All their adoration Thankful

took as his due – at long last,his visions of greatness beguncoming true, Yes, these beliefsserved him a double portion:

They made him great andsoothedthe guilt he felt about his ownfailure, the

loss of the house.

"Besides,"he asked me,

"What's the worst that couldhappen?"

Thankful waved grandly to the

17



crowd, like a Caesar in hiscoliseum, all the sounddrowning out one fellow as hetried to shout, back of the crowd,some nonsense or other,

somethingabout a Cat,

Just a silly doubter.

IV.

The band of followers grewso large, they asked for Thankfulto formally take charge, andneeding more outlets for peopleto dump their cash, we startedvisits each week to hospitalsand schools, as we never failedto find a need there among

the old, the young, and the sick.

I shall never forget thatvoice we heard in the hospitalon one most remarkable visit:

"Mama, meow!"

We heard it on the third floor,as Thankful tried to shepherdhis flock down thelong,whitewashed corridor:

"Mama, meow!"

(The only other sound wasthe steady hmmm of an old

18



ventilation system)

Gentle, urgent, the voice cameonce more:

“Mama, meow!”

Thankful turned, then graspeda paw to his heart –

"Oh! Cordelia, is itYou? Oh, my darling, my

only darling daughter!"

Cordelia and Thankful

met halfway. She bent down ashe leapt straight into her arms,

and they embraced:

Who could ever forgetthat image of a tall, blue-eyed brunette lickinga neutered tom cat in

the face – and all the whilemurmuring, "Mother!"

I must admit some envytoward Cordelia, she seemed tohave it all,with her wit, charm, and beauty;

seemed, that is,untilI heard her story.

They began to cry, to catchup on old times: it turned outCordelia had fallen intosome trouble herself, she hadnever wanted to tell her mother, but now she welcomedthe chance to let it all out.

"I should tell you, Mama, it does

19



involve Paul."

"Oh, yes,"Thankful hissed,

"How is Paul?"

"Now, Mama, I know you andPaul didn't get along . . ."

"I got along, my dear!It was Paul, your Paul, who

was wrong and needed tochange!"

“Oh, Mama, Paul just thought you were

a little strange . . . He treated meso good – for a while.”

"Uh-huh," Thankful nodded.

"We got married three years ago(I'm sorry we didn't tell you)and a few months later cameour precious little girl."

"A baby, Cordelia?"

“Things started out fine, but later we grew apart, Paul became a person I just didn't know: hewas constantly pumping iron,tanning, obsessed with his health,he wanted to look just likethose hunks on television shows.”

"And try as I might, with months of diets, salons, and exercise,I just could not keep pace withPaul's drive toward perfection . . ."

"One day, I came home to findhim gone: I called the police,

20



waited for hours, for days,until I happened to watchthe television, a new show

came on, and thereappeared Paul!

“He was playing an 'extra,'chattering in the background,slightly obscured, but yes, I wascertain little Eva and Icaught a fleeting glimpse of her daddy. of all places, onthe television screen.

“Poor Eva has taken it all

pretty hard, Mama, she keeps pushing me away. She loved Paul,and I think she blames me.”

"Where's Eva now?"Thankful demanded.

"Oh, Mama, that's why we're here.Eva is sick. The doctors aren'tsure what's wrong but think,” she

began to sob,“It may be cancer.”

She took Thankful into Eva'sroom. I peeked around the corner in time to see this beautifulyoung girl with perfect blond curlsas Thankful introduced himself,

"Hello, dear,”a soft paw,

“I'm your, er, grandmother."

Thankful left the room struck byhis emotions, then steelinghimself, looked into the teary eyes

21



Cordelia trained upon him:

"Oh, what, Mama" she asked,"Will I ever do? We can barely afford food, and haven't

got any insurance or money.”

"Don't worry, Cordelia,We'll get through this somehow . . ."Thankful said, starting a mentalinventory of his ownalready meager resources.

"I know, Mama! Maybe

we can get a loan on theequity from the land

where the house is!"

Thankful grimaced when she hit this,the one point he'd hoped to letlinger;Thankful had never

disappointed Cordelia butknew he couldn't deceive her.

And never would!That same moment,

Thankful could see the Followers,grown frantic in his absence,come now barreling down thecorridor –

Their blessed checkbookswaving from every finger!

V.

Thankful took to leading hislittle flock to the local mall

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on missions:he would rouse them

in song at the fountain andin prayer at the food court, whilespreading his good news (at every

store's front) about how to makea “Living” by taking what you'vegot –

Yes, even those clothes youJust bought –

and giving it all away.

The response from the mall'smerchantswas rather unforgiving;

these Owners, usually aloof,and unknown, became, in justfew weeks' time, the sworn enemiesof this prophet they deemed an

imposter.

Thankful called them, dripping withsweetness, though rather cheekily,

"The Neighbors."

Since the Neighbors' attempt toremove Thankful by forcemet a customer backlash,they needed a way to silenceThankful, and they needed it fast;

Their call went out to the onewho had done such things for them

in the past:

Yes, said Rahland Karve,he knew the name.

Late that night, Thankful answeredthe phone when it rang.

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Karve had learned about the paymentsfor Eva's treatment. If themall trips continued, Karve explained,he would out Thankful for claiming

to be selfless while reallyOn the take!

Poor Thankful's pleas about ahelpless granddaughter fell on

deaf ears:

"Granddaughter!"Karve snorted,

"You, my friend, are an absolute

hypocrite, and a liar!"

Thankful slammed down the phone – his hair bristled, his tail stiff straight –

he paced the floor for at leastan hour.

Then at last an idea:"I'll settle this score," he said,

"I'll see Karve's anteand raise him one more!"

Weeks before, he'd bought an optionto lease the space that once servedas a retail store, and now bid me

to hastily call his realtor.

We took the premises, and began what Thankful would callour "Loyal Witness."

"If hypocrite I was before,"

declared Thankful,"Now I am no more, now,any child can have what

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Eva has; None will beignored!"

Offering to those most needfulour care and our resources, this

huge sign advertised the purpose:

"Mothers and Small Children,HERE is Where Your Help Is."

The fashion stores next door, thefinest of the Neighbors, neither

appreciated our largessenor shared our sense of humor.

Their Managers stood aghast, inchic black outfits, hands on their hips,watching the women stand in linefor our help,

their pregnant bodiessuperimposed over thesemi-nudes whose posters frontedthe Ubërsombie store,

whilea drove of small children tottled beside, each wiping a runnynose.

"This is unacceptable,”the Managers protested,

"These people have got to go – We're nearly to the Thanksgiving

shopping holiday!”

So again the Neighbors calledRahland Karve to the scene:

The Neighbors offered Karve their planto rid the town of Thankful,

once and for all.

25



Karve balked.(Would you believe?)

Sure, he threatened at times,

extorted and cajoled,but what they wanted nowwas different;

It was justtoo low.

If you won't do it, the Neighborswhispered, then have no doubt towhom we’ll go:

Klarilee,

they whispered.

Karve gasped . . .

The neighbors related further facts Karve had not heard before,not to do with the mall, but acertain problem from his own past:

Thankful caught word days before

that the District Attorneywanted to speak with him. He fearedthe worst, but reconsideredwhen he heard the DA (whosename was Klarilee Benhem) hadonce been married to old Karvehimself, then divorced the foe,and brought him to her feet.

"Such a woman,"declared Thankful,

"I've just got to meet!"

Klarilee Benhem (it was nosecret) harbored Governor ambitions, and she thought

Thankful,

26



given his following, might beideal to promote them.

At first, all was bliss withKlarilee, and Thankful worked up

the courage to ask if sheobjected to any traitsof his (thinking of his Cat-ness).

draped, flagged, oaken office

"Darling,"Klarilee said,

"I love youas an Individual, and

I fully respect your choices."When word got out Thankful would

endorse Klarilee the next week,the Neighbors were livid; soon,Thankful might eclipse their power;

Now was the time to act.Do,they told Karve,as bidden . . .

Wait,Karve asked them,

Maybe I can dissuade him,some other way.

But their impatiencecould not be tamed.

VI.

Autumn had just finishedits vivid orations –

27



Yellow, orange, red, they hung precariously in

the trees.

Late one night, as the

evening grew long likeit does in late autumn,Thankful answered the phone

When it rang, a Stranger'svoice

crackling:

“If you don't quit the mall andleave Klarilee to her own

devices; We'll tell the whole world,

and all its masses, about the Real reason

you don't paytaxes.

Thankful gulped.

"They know that already,surely they do . . .

Why, I'vemade no secret of myCat-ness!

They've known it for years, and no one's ever

seemed to care."

"Yes, but that's just because,"the voice explained,"They haven't

heard itover

The Air . . .

"You know as well aswe do:

What impressions form

28



from Reality, can never compare to the Power

that comes when it's putOn The Air.

"No matter How long we've had it, there's

just somethingdown

deepthat

compels belief when itcomes on that Mystical

Broadband Fog:It's like a

Judgment spoken by thevery voice of God!

“Oh, then they'll start to care – and soon they'll realize,

dear friend,that you're nothing

buta

Wad of Hair!"

Thankful dropped the phone in itscradle, marched straight to hisroom.

that smoldering husk

I kept waiting,waiting for Thankful to emergewith a plan to extract himself from this dilemma;

instead thereensued a silence thatdeepened,

a sense of gloom . . .

29



Until at last I didnot hear him speak, but only heard the

click

when he turned out the light,and went to sleep.

VII.

I admired Thankful as my own parent, for my father died whenI was just a child, and to my

mother I could go months withoutspeaking so much as a word.

(Never sent a card, wonderedoften if I, I, had been

too hard . . .)

I needed the hope thatThankful gave:

His strength, his passion, his care,

how he lived so brave;the weeks that followed found medeadened, found me numb.

Thankful, for Eva's sake,had decided to cave:

He quit the mall and gave upall contact with the outside world.

Thankful called his waitingFollowers together:

"I have lied," he explained:"No one is Judgment Proof;

Even if you haven'tAny money, they can

30



still take your hope, your life,and your Story."

The only thing sadder than a Prophet who's

lost his Religion isa Religion once theProphet

has left it.

"Count your blessings,"Thankful

told them meekly."After

all, it is Thanksgiving . . ."

Thankful winced because he knewhe had just banished his loyal

Followers into a world where,no matter what the Pilgrimslong ago founded, the FourthThursday in November differedlittle from the fifteenth day

of April,little more now than a

chore.

When Thankful called off the eventwith Klarilee Benhem, she took it bitterly indeed, suspectingThankful had allied with Rahland

Karve against her.

Her blue eyes flashed so cold,Thankful knew she would not soonforgive. He wanted to explain, but knew the attempt would undohim: Klarilee, he sensed, mightunderstand his motive, if onlyshe could see past his

identity:

31



No matter how many timesshe might see him, saying

It— who he Was –

aloud, might somehow cross theline.

Perhaps had he told Klarilee,Thankful would think later, hemight have prevented the coming

disaster.

VIII.

All our nights were spent inEva's hospital room.her condition did not improve.She began chemotherapy.

The treatment already robbed

her little blond curls. Thankfultried to stay optimistic, but the prognosis looked dire.

Thankful sat bedside one nightwith Eva while she watched thetelevision; he, Cordelia,and I were not listeningto the commercials that cameon until Eva suddenly

sat up and stared at the screenwith an intensityin her dark blue eyes,

a need.

She reached out then, with her little fingers, almost

32



breathless, as she said,

"Daddy."

It was Paul.

Wind swept down a mock sandy beach where it playedstrategically in the loose shirt barely concealing Paul's hunkful

(and, it seemed, freshly-oiled) bod,when a tall young blonde with longflowing hair pranced her way ontothe scene, as the Announcer explained how wonderful for their love life, this-or-that new

product has been.

As Paul ran his fingersthrough the blonde's hair, Eva

touched her own pale, balded pate,and with eyes full blue,

little Eva beganto cry.

The scene faded to black,

revealing in flaming bold typethe sponsor's nameas the Announcer’s

deep and strangely, yes, strangelyfamiliar voice intoned it.

Poor Thankful did his bestto comfort Eva.

Buthis power,

his sway was justnot the same since the

recent Retreat; gone fromhis eyes was the flame, leftonly the dim

embers

33



and what cold comfort theygave.

Eva cried herself back to sleep,her little fingers grasping tight

to Thankful's mane.

As his eyes searched the room,Thankful heard for the first timethe hard and pouring rain,

Then the doctor's low voice toCordelia in the hall,what dim prognosis it made.

And for the first timeThankful realized:

He realized he hadlost

everything.

Staringnow deep into the nightthat rumbled with a quickening

Thunder,

Thankful made up hismind.

Thankful knew it:He must fight.

At this moment, Thankful became what he feared, feared

because he hoped for,most;

When Thankful came closestin his life to trulygenuine being;

34



This was the moment when – the Neighbors would

argue, days later, toKlarilee Benhem –

Thankful did what

would Justify her (twice, indeed) . . .

It was at this momentThankful became . . .

It was a difficult

decision.

an Animal.

IX.

The lights flickered for just an

instant, and Thankful was gone, bolted from view.

I knew where to look. The narrowaccess road that connectedwith the mall two blocks awaywould take too long, so I raced

through the rain and caught glimpse of Thankful, he ran with abandon,regardless of the traffic,like something chased him,like some kind of prey,

a hunted animal.

He ran toward the mall.

Seconds later a fire

35



alarm sounded, sending theholiday shoppers inflight to the parking lotwhere I stood uncertainfor a moment – Summoned

my courage, charged against their tide and into the mall.

Several minutes passedwith no sight of Thankful,of smoke or of fire. Atlast, as I pressed toward thegiant water fountain near themall's center, I could seeThankful perched atop it,

beneath the glass roof thatlet in light from the sky.

The fleeing shoppers had passed from between us, andI could see Thankful watch

as the last ones escapedto the parking lot.

Fur still sopped with rain, he

looked like an old alleyCat, bedraggled, as heturned to look at me, andI saw a Scheme, born of weakness, Thankful's weakness,But a Scheme,

I would learn,of Another's genius.

One terrible momenthe sat there utterly,hauntingly speechless, thenlooked up toward the sky tolet out a low, long, and

echoing yowl –

36



Silence

Just a moment – and his

heart again fell –

Then the rumbling thunder sent out its refrain: So primal and unspoken,deep with an anger, thesame as Thankful felt. Asudden darkness fell when . . .

Crash!

Lightning charged the whole scene,silhouetted Thankfulin a ghastly outline,shook the foundations, andI realized it must havehit, farther down the mall,as smoke engulfed the

room,fire grasped the ceiling.

I begged Thankful to comeuntil at last he cameto himself. And we fled.

We stood in the parkinglot alone until wordspread and the whole town

gathered;It wasn't

every day, after all,that the mall caught on fire.

The flames spread across therooftop, where they encamped

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a blaze, the whole night long,prancing,

gazing, reeling,their intricate dance stunneda late-night viewing audience

well into the dawning hours,when the great sun seemed tolift them, ascending

the horizon, more quietly thanthey came,

Thankful's eyes still blazed.

Aerial footage told thestory to a red-eyed, wakeningworld:

the mall building stood,

warm, simmering, totallyExposed from the roof.

X.

The State's Attorney satin her draped, flagged, oakenoffice, watching coverage LIVE!of the smoldering ruin that

once was a mall.

Klarilee Benhem faced adifficult set of facts:

Witnesses said Thankfulpulled the fire alarm, but Fire Marshals were certainthat lightning, some minutes later,caused the mall's destruction.

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The Neighbors knew Benhem, too,and they wanted a swift

Vengeance.(what they’d always wanted,

to tell the truth)

their voices crackling . . .

Klarilee balked.

Howcould she, in all conscience,

condemn one who had donenothing wrong?

There was no such a charge,

she told them now, a third time,as Aiding and Abetting

an Act of God.

Sureyou can, the Neighbors insisted;at end there's the simple fact, for

all his virtues, for all his promise,Thankful holds

no rights, or claims to your devotion . . .

(Why, can’t you see?)

He's nothing,after all,

buta Cat

Oh,Klarilee was stunned,

She’d never thought about himthatway. . .

“I barely know him or know of him,” she said, “but I feel with

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Thankful a real connection . . .”

“Connection,” the Neighbors scoffed.

“Will you risk our support to save

the skin of some miserableWad of Hair?

“Rahland Karve,” they whispered,“surely wouldn’t.”

The message was clear:

Klarilee might well lose theelection if she stood with

Thankful, leaving all her staff unemployed, and her dreams

abandoned.

She could hear it now – “soft” they’d call her – as she

touched the felt pink rose thatgave what little color it could

to her black pantsuit.

It was a difficultdecision.

She hoped Thankful would pleadhis cause to the press, give her an excuse to beg off the Neighbors and their malice.

Thankful only sat,however,

in silence.

“Klarilee might as well takemy life,” Thankful told me later,“The Neighbors already stole

my story.”

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He smiled.

“I do not regret myfate, I pity you and

Cordelia and littleEva, for you are the

sweeter members of aviscous race.

Yes,of all the universe,

only Human Beingsare cannibals not of flesh, but each other’s Dreams.”

(Thus were the final wordsThankful would ever speak.)

That night,Cordelia went alone to

Klarilee’s office, to pleadfor her mother's life.

She explained how sick

little Eva was andhow Eva had come to needher grandmother's

loving touch,

“She will die without him– Oh please, Ms. Benhem, I knowto you he may seem like just a

troublesome wad of hair, but he's the only hold mylittle girl has on this life.”

"Well,"Klarilee sighed with tired

interest, "That might,I guess, make a difference . . .

I'll check it out and think about

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it.Where is the girl's father, what's

his name,Mr. Sawyer?"

"Oh, no, Sawyer is myname I've been using for Evasince her father left us andwent out to California.

But thename on her birth recordIs her father's."

"And what's that name?"

Then Cordelia told her.

Klarilee looked stricken.

She recognized the name.

What are the chances, shethought,

eying Cordelia,that lightning would strike twice

at the same spot?

Klarilee summoned her senses, then reassuredCordelia that Thankfulshould not worry, this brief visit, Klarilee said,provided a whole new

side of the Story.

When Cordelia left,Klarilee struggled tocatch her breath,

then ranher long fingers intoa bottom desk drawer topull out

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a tattered pieceof paper penciled withher Ex-husband's cellphone number.

Klarilee shuddered tothink what she had nearly

done.

Punch,Klarilee dialed, punch

punch, She'd never let the Neighbors intimidate

her, punch, before, punch punch,

Why on earth would she letthem now?

While she waited for the phone to ring, Klarilee picked up a picture framewith an old photograph

of a smiling little boy,

wondered how she, if she, had been too hard,

thenturned it over to readthe Inscription on back,

his Age then was six,

The name:Paul Karve.

XI.

The State, without any

43



explanation, dropped its case.

Two days later, a check for $10,000arrived, payable to

Eva, with "R. Karve" scrawledon the signature line,

So, too, was the card withlittle pink hearts; So, too,an airplane ticket sent,with much hope, out west to

California.

So too

(would you believeIt?)

was a modest butheartfelt donation to

Klarilee’s campaign for governor.

Klarilee had announcedfor the seat with some fear and an agenda the

Neighbors would totallyhate.

Shedidit

Anyway.

Thankful’s Followers went back into the old worldthey could never escape but

determinedto change,

as Thankful himself had

done:

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Life breathed anew inthe ashes, and but faintobjection raised,

they bought spacein the refurbished mall for a

public health pavilion,open and free to all.

Time alone would tell whatother good might come fromthe cotton-ball paws of a former housecat, armed with

a lightning bolt.

Thankful, for one, never would know.

Cordelia and I rushedto tell Thankful aboutthe case's dismissal,only to meet the harshglare of irritated

eyes, eyes turned back toward thewindow, and turned withoutany mention intothe

silenceThankful had

slowly inhabitedsince that night lightning flashed

the skies

Now winter skieswhere fleecy clouds promisedthe snow Thankful had longawaited; his coat grownso long, unwieldy thathe filled the window sill,

Looking at one angle

45



like an extra from thenativity scene in

a Christmas carol;from

another, like any

old stray cat, once tame, nowwild and feral.

That night we rode silentlyto the hospital, but

stopped outside Eva's room by the sound of a voiceThankful instantly knew;

peering 'round the door,we

saw Klarilee Benhemsitting bedside, runningher long fingers gentlydown Eva's cheek, smiling

and crying.

Confused, riled, then Thankfulremembered meeting his

daughter's fiancé yearsago, and how that name

"Karve" sounded familiar, thenthe clincher:he saw his

Eva awaken, caston Klarilee the same

dark violet (though younger), but still the same haunted,eyes.

Thankful disbelieved,would

not move forward, just sat behind

an Unseenline,

pressed his cool pink nose rightup against It, just as

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Eva had reached out for the tv screen, onlyto meet that tragic but promising moment, the

Insuperable divide

between realityand the desired.

Then Thankful smiled.

We turned around, and wentoutside, drove home through afallen snow the night hadfreshly baptized;

Early

morning, these imagesstill on my mind, I slepteven with the sense thatwe were losing time

Just dreaming that momentover again, I livedit this time myself: Feltthe cool pink nose touch

my

sleeping cheek, only toreach out, with nothing tofind –

I jumped up from my bed,ran to the window

to glimpseThankful, snow swirling allaround him, speak something

to the darting figuresof strays surrounding, thenturn toward me, looked straight at

me – and smiled,

Goodbye.

Snow soon obscured Thankful

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from my sight but could notsoften the white velvetcrush his paws made,

nor thewinter wind's moaning rush,

Nor the sound that stillechoes through my mind:

Now, I hear it everywhere,on baby's breath, as well

as air conditioners;and the soft spring wind that

plays with the pages evenas I write this,

Sound I heard only once before,

the first night hespent with Eva, that Ihad thought, then, was her heartmonitor;

The sound that still echoesthrough my mind

the sound of Thankful,

Purring

©2011 Ellis H. ThomAll Rights Reserved.

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Thankful: A Modern Fable