Hester Whitmore always adored cats How could she not, when she fancied herself one, even though she was, in truth, a sturdy mediumsized dog with a bite that would make a crocodile jealous. She never minded the envy; Hester had always been a kind soul and never let anyones jealousy get in her way.
Her love for cats didnt start at birth; it began about a month and a half later.
It was the day little Benny, a nameless pup of mixed breed, was squalling in a puddle. It wasnt he whod made the puddle, but a drizzly spring rain that had turned the garden path to a shallow lake. Benny, still a tiny whimpering bundle, shouted at the world about his sorry fate, though he had little strength left.
Only one creature heard him: a sleek orange tabby named Jasper. Jasper padded to the edge of the puddle, curled his tail around his paws, and regarded the noisy, bewildered mess with a lazy stare. Then he noticed a white patch on Bennys front paw the very same spot he bore on his own.
What a coincidence, Jasper thought. Who could have sired such a pup? Had he romped with Molly? Strolled with Lily? Sat on the barn loft with Matilda? Who was the mother thatd abandoned a baby in a puddle?
For a brief moment Benny hushed his wails, sensing a warm, compassionate presence nearby. Scared that it might vanish, he lunged toward Jasper, but his legs tangled and he fell back into the water with a plaintive squeak. Jasper let out a disdainful snort, yet he was now certain: this was his own daughter, for once his paws had slipped too.
Jasper rose, stepped carefully through the puddle, hunched over the shivering pup, sighed heavily, and lifted Benny by the scruff. A fathers duty weighed heavy, but Jasper was not about to shirk it. If a mother had left her child, he would not.
In that instant Benny felt a rush of safety. He calmed, relaxed, and even drifted off to sleep as Jasper carried him into the cottage.
When Jaspers owner, George, saw the damp bundle hauled into the yard, his wife clapped her hands in surprise:
George, look! Our cat has dragged in a dog! And a plump one at that a brilliant guard!
George chuckled and welcomed Benny, though they soon learned Hester Whitmore the pups true name had no intention of playing guard. She was a cat at heart, a daughter of Jasper, and not one for protectandserve.
Raised by a cat, Hester kept herself immaculate, chased mice and birds, and tried to climb trees and fences, only to be thwarted by her hefty rear. Over two years she outgrew Jasper many times over, daring to tussle with other neighbourhood felines, but Jasper would always intervene:
Ill handle the strangers myself. A pretty kitty like you shouldnt have her coat ruined!
He stubbornly refused to admit Hester was a dog, for that would mean she wasnt truly his offspring a notion he could not stomach. Anyone who suggested otherwise earned Jaspers fierce rebuke.
One night Jasper didnt return home. It had never happened before. Hester waited, her heart thumping like a drum, clawing at the fence, pressing her nose into the gaps, hoping for a whiff of his familiar scent. Nothing. Her paws slid on the smooth wood, her nose stayed dry.
The yard erupted with a howl as the neighbors dog, Bess, ran about and then settled, barking loudly.
Let her out! shouted the lady of the house. She wont let anyone sleep until Jasper comes back. When he does, well both be relieved.
Like a shot from a bow, Hester bolted over the gate, paused, covered her eyes, and listened to her own heartbeat. Something inside guided her, and with a yip of impatience she sprinted toward the spot where Jasper had first found her.
Her instincts werent wrong. There, on the damp earth where the puddle had just dried, lay Jasper torn, exhausted, barely clinging to life.
Father Hesters whine rose to a mournful howl. She crept closer, pleading with the universe for his recovery, careful not to bite anything, not even a butterfly. Her keen nose caught two lingering scents on his fur one of the vets antiseptic, the other of the countryside breeze. She would remember those forever.
Jasper!
The owners scooped him up, wrapped him in a blanket, and rushed the car to the nearest veterinary practice in Oxfordshire, the best in the county.
Hester followed, sprinting until the vehicle vanished from sight. She collapsed beside the road, waiting, uncertain of what to think. She feared Jasper would never return. Her fear proved true the people arrived without their cat.
She sniffed the car, the medicinal odors, and sobbed quietly, then louder. For three days she ate barely anything, drinking only water, her hatred for the strangers whod harmed her father growing hotter. Why would other dogs tear him apart? she thought. Her own kind would never be mistaken for strangers.
The anger burned, but slowly she began to nibble on scraps, glancing over the fence more often. Hester kept waiting, biding her time for a chance to escape.
Two weeks later the gate swung wide as the owners drove off. Hester seized the moment, bolting from the garden and circling the whole village. She caught a whiff of foreign dogs near the main road, two pooches finishing a stolen goose.
She crouched low, remembering Jaspers lesson that silence is the hunters ally, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Hester still saw herself as a true cat. She didnt bark for no reason, didnt flail. She crept silently, suppressing a fierce, threatening growl. Then, as her father had taught, she lunged.
Bones cracked, fur flew, skin tore under her sharp teeth and claws. She fought like a rabid cat; no one had ever taught her to fight like a dog. The two intruders shrieked, but they stood no chance not a single one, just as Jasper had faced his own peril that night. Hester triumphed, though a sudden tug at her collar sent her reeling backward.
She was scooped up by the ladys arms, while the owner shooed the battered pooches away.
Nurse, calm down they bit Jasper, didnt they? You gave them a good lesson! We almost missed you, but Jasper saw you, and we rushed to help.
Hearing her name, Hesters ears drooped, and she turned to see Jasper in the back of the van, alive and bandaged.
Why the surprise? he said. We left you in the clinic, stitched you up, gave you drips. We told you, but you, dear dog, were so sad you didnt hear.
Hester let out a highpitched cry just as she had two years earlier, and with trembling paws leapt onto the vehicle. Jasper, stern as ever, brushed the drool from his chin and growled at his daughter:
Youve gone mad, fighting them alone? Didnt you wait for me?
Then, with a burst of pride, he added:
No one has ever seen my mother, but now all will know who the Whitmore daughter is the finest cat in the realm!
Hester gently sniffed the fresh sutures on Jaspers back, regretting that theyd stopped her so soon. Yet Jasper was right she truly was a cat, and a cat knows how to wait patiently.
Now, with a whine of overwhelming emotion, Hester resumed licking her beloved fathers hand, content at last.
