You Can’t Trust Somebody Who Kicks Your Cat

Ann H Gabhart Ann's Posts, Heart of Hollyhill

October 28, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Main Street, Hollyhill.

As you can see in the photo here, not much going on Main Street on a Tuesday afternoon. There are days when I go out and stomp on the sidewalk just to see if I can wake up anybody in the town. But nobody ever rushes out of the stores to see what’s going on. The street just sits there empty as ever. Empty might be good if Dad would let me bring my rollerskates to town, but he won’t. Now, doesn’t that look like the best place to skate you’ve ever seen, but Dad thinks I might run somebody over. I know how to stop. Now. That time I barreled into Mrs. Jeffries in front of newspaper office, well, she should have seen me coming. She could step to the side easier than I could. I was only beginning to learn to skate then. Besides, my scrapes were lots worse than hers. She hardly bled at all, and Dad made me break into my piggy bank to give her money to buy a new pair of hose. 

Did you ever rollerskate on the sidewalk? I bet you ran over somebody now and again too, didn’t you? I sure do wish they’d let us take rollerskates to school. Then it would be easier to make it between classes. Can you imagine everybody on rollerskates? Even the teachers. Mrs. Watson would have to give up those spike heels. She’d probably wobble less on the skates. 

But back to running over things, that Mr. Whitlow is back to coming to sweet talk Zella. Good thing he never stays long or Zella would never get the ads typed up for the paper to come out. She hardly knows her name when he’s around. But there’s something about him. Something weird – something even more than him acting like he’s struck on Zella. And that’s weird enough.

He kicked Cat. He did. I saw him. Cat was being halfway friendly. Either that or Cat thought Mr. Whitlow might have a cat treat in his pants cuff. I’d go for the cat treat. Could be Mr. Whitlow had a tuna fish sandwich for lunch and dropped a bit of it in his cuff. Cats have good noses. And they do not like to be kicked! What kind of man kicks a cat just because said Cat is sniffing his pant cuffs and shoes? It’s not like he couldn’t move around Cat. Cat’s very small. Poor thing’s been up on the top of the fence ever since. Wes says he’ll come down when he gets hungry. Unless he catches a bird. See what that Mr. Whitlow set in motion. I’m thinking he’s ready to set something else in motion, but I have no idea what. But it can’t be good. Just ask Cat.

So I’m back on the detective trail again. Maybe something will show up on Halloween night. That’s when the goblins and ghosts come out, isn’t it? Mr. Whitlow is some kind of strange for sure. 

Do you think Zella saw him kick Cat? She gets sort of blinded when that man is around. What would you do if you saw someone kicking your cat?


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