The Cat Always Knows

It had stopped raining and a spring snow, began, light and fluffy. I leaned my shoulder against the restaurant wall to watch. It was nice standing out there on an empty, dark street watching the silent snow falling.

I then heard what can only be described as a dog’s tail wagging against pavement. I looked to my right and sitting quietly on the sidewalk was a blind man in a porkpie hat with his dog next to him. He had to be blind, for he wore sunglasses that were big and round movie star sunglasses and they looked ridiculous. You’d have to be blind to wear them. Also, it was nearing midnight.

“You guys startled me,” I said. I almost moved further away from the restaurant door, but my father would stagger out soon. Henri’s was the steakhouse I was standing next to. My father pronounces it Aaree’s. My father’s an ass and I was going to have to apologize to him when he came out unless he was staggering drunk, in which case, I would drive him home and he’d have forgotten all about the bag of weed he found in my sock drawer.

“My dog likes you,” the blind man said. “And he don’t like just anyone.”

I looked at the dog. It was some kind of Golden Retriever mix, his tail still thumping on the wet pavement.

“Me neither,” I said.

The blind man said, “Sit down, kid, ya bother me.” It seemed like a sensible thing to do, so I sat down next to the dog that liked me. It stuck its cold nose in my ear, and I pushed it away.

There weren’t a lot of cars on the road going by, but I felt looked at and foolish by the ones that were. Here I was, the Judge’s son with a blind man and his dog, sitting three in a row on the pavement in the snow with our backs against Henri’s Steakhouse.

“What’s your dog’s name?” I asked.

“It don’t matter much,” he said. “He’s deaf.”

I laughed. I was hoping he was trying to be funny.

“It’s true! I’m a blind man with a deaf dog. ”

He wasn’t trying to be funny. When I realized that, I laughed harder than before. His dog stuck its nose in my ear again and I pushed it away again. I said, “He doesn’t have a name?”

“You can call him anything you want. I told you, he’s deaf. Call him ‘Shithead’. He really won’t care.”

I laughed again. The blind man was funny, whether he meant to be or not.

“Okay, so what’s your name, if I might ask?”

“Name’s The Cat, baby. Cat for short.”

“Well Cat,” I said. “Nice to meet you?”

“Waiting for the judge, huh?”

“How do you know my dad?”

“I’m The Cat, baby. The Cat knows you drive your old man home sometimes, right?”

I sat there, stunned.

“Sorry to hear about your mom,” he said.

“You knew my mother? I’ve never seen you before.”

“Yeah, you have. We’re here every night but Tuesday. Hey! It’s showtime! Watch and learn how it’s done.”

The blind man now took off his porkpie hat and stuck it inside his coat. The coat had faded sergeant stripes high on the sleeve. Next, he pulled out his dentures and stuck them in a pants pocket. Finally, and from out of nowhere, a baseball glove appeared, which he stuck on top of his head like a hat.

“Try to look pathetic,” he said.

I didn’t think they needed much help in that department, but I lowered my Yankees hat and looked down at my feet as the great wooden doors opened. The blind man spoke in a hushed stage-whisper, “When all at once I saw a crowd, a host of golden daffodils .” He grinned at me. “Wordsworth,” he added as he stood to his feet.

And out the doors they came. A river of well-dressed happy people with beautifully wrapped tinfoil swans began floating past us in single file. The Cat smiled a toothless smile at them. The dog wagged its tail. I tried not to make eye-contact.


I heard a woman say, “Give him the steak, dear,” and the man with her came back and pressed a tinfoil wrapped swan against the blind man’s chest.

“Lamb chops,” the blind man said. He nudged his dog, who now seemed to vibrate with anticipation.

Suddenly, a young woman stood before us. She was tall and stylish and glittering with jewels. She pressed another silver swan into The Cat’s outstretched hands.

“Sautéed trout?” he said. “With garlic sauce!”

Her dark mascara eyes opened wide and rosy. “How’d you know?” she asked as if The Cat had just performed a magic trick.

“The Cat always knows,” he said. The woman laughed with delight and clip-clopped away, unsteady in her high heels. Red vested valets began arriving in long shiny cars.

A little girl approached. She held a red balloon by a string. “This is for you,” she said in her tiny voice. The blind man didn’t react. I lifted his arm and put the balloon string in his hand.

“A balloon!” he said and with practiced skill, tied the string around his dog’s neck. The dog looked as delighted as the little girl.

My father came out wearing a dark blue wool overcoat. Henri, who was holding the door open, looked at me as my father’s car arrived. “Give the keys to the kid,” he told the valet. “You sixteen yet?” he asked me.

I didn’t answer. My father slipped a folded bill into the blind man’s hand, then sat in the back of the Lincoln. The blind man was back sitting on the sidewalk, the swans in his lap. I drove my father home to our silent house in silence.

--980 Words--