Yesterday as I wrote about D. C., I mentioned another cat, Rinehart. This is how he came to be at Manos Meadows. A lot of years ago, a stray cat wandered to my mother and dad’s house in Tahlequah. She was a gray and white Manx and very, very shy. She had long hair and was not a tall cat so she looked to be about as broad as she was tall. Mom named her Boxcar. And, of course, she fed Boxcar and made a bed for her inside the storage building. We didn’t know that Boxcar would soon be a mother and perhaps that was why she was desperate to find a home for her kittens.One morning when I went to the storage building to check on Boxcar, lo and behold! There in her bed were two tiny, perfect Siamese kittens. So cute! This was, we figured, Boxcar’s first litter and the Siamese kittens were big and healthy-looking so two would have been about all this little cat could handle. The next day I went back to to the storage room and I could hardly believe my eyes. A third kitten shared the bed with the Siamese. This tiny fellow was much smaller than his brother and sister, a real runt. And he was a replica of his mother: gray and white and tailless, a Manx.
The kittens grew and I’ve never seen more beautiful Siamese. The little boy had the bluest of eyes, so we called him Frank, after Old Blue Eyes. The little girl we called Sally. Some of my cousins wanted both kittens so after Boxcar weaned them, this pair went to a home in the country. I wanted the small Manx. And I called him Rinehart. Rinehart was quite comfortable at my house except, of course, if D. C. had her way, he would have vanished in a puff of smoke. But Lady liked him. Lady was Matt’s dog. She too had been an orphan that my dad rescued from a dogcatcher. Lady and Rinehart became best pals. When Lady lay down, often as not, Rinehart would climb up on her back and take a nap.
My husband, son and I lived at the end of a dead end road. When I came home from school each day, Lady would be lying beside the road waiting for me. And, having a cat nap in her soft fur would be little Rinehart. They were my welcoming committee and a mighty pleasant sight at the end of a tiring day. I don’t see a Manx often now so I guess they are more rare than other breeds. But when I do catch a glimpse of one, it brings back memories of a small cat named Boxcar and her three kitten surprises. I especially remember her last one, the smallest of all, Lady’s friend Rinehart.
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