Uncle NoPass was a dog man.
Always had been, always would be. But, like many households of the early sixties, there were glowers (very apt, no?) of the semi-feral cats that , if not accepted, were tolerated for their ability to keep down the rodent population. Eventually, of course, a .22 would be needed to control the cat population. Our method was cheap and efficient.

One cat, black in color, was not only tolerated by Aunt NoPass, but actually petted despite Uncle NoPass’s opinion of it having a heart that matched its hide. Midnight was his name as Aunt NoPass, very originally, called him. And like most cats, Midnight developed, if not exactly an affection for those who don’t like them, then a neurosis that demanded that such a person at least pay obeisance by stroking them and such. In this household, it meant Uncle NoPass.

Whenever Aunt NoPass opened the rickety screen door, Midnight, on hearing the old return spring grinding across the wooden frame, would shoot past her through the narrow opening and make a beeline for wherever Uncle NoPass was.

Midnight especially liked to find him in bed. Uncle NoPass would grab for the cat, making an effort to knock him off the bed while a string of half oaths peppered the air like a cloud of birdshot. My Aunt would nervously peer around like she expected to see the Preacher from the local Church of Christ that we attended.

There would be a muffled thud, not of Midnight hitting a wall as Uncle NoPass intended, but Uncle NoPass slipping on one of the throw rugs that were used on the scarred hardwood floors as he tried to catch the irritating cat.

Uncle NoPass’s hounds also shared my aunts love for cats. “Here Kitty Kitty. Come play with us. “We loooove cats”, the short legged beagles would yodel, feet propped on the rusty fencing as Midnight strolled past.

Midnight, with the studied arrogance of indifference that only cats can give, would stop inches from the excited hounds and fix them with a cold hard stare, secure in the knowledge that the fence would contain them.

Every Thursday afternoon, the Ladies from the church rotated hosting a tea. It was a big deal for the Ladies, giving them a chance to show off the fine china, their baking abilities and freshly scrubbed homes. Children and any husbands hanging around the house were banished to the back yard.

One afternoon, a Thursday as luck would have it, Uncle NoPass, having just cleaned the dogpen, saw Midnight sitting next to the gate and decided to get some laughs while settling a few old scores. At the “snick” of the latch being released, five set of eyes became riveted on the edge of the gate post. As the gap grew, the hounds, seeing a chance to come out and play with Midnight, charged the gate. Midnight, caught in mid taunt, sought safety on the tallest structure that was nearest- Uncle NoPass

Midnight reached the summit of NoPass’s balding head and latched firmly on, hair extended and back arched. Uncle NoPass reached up, grabbing at Midnight, trying to dislodge the cat who kept the sharp claws attached to the tender skin. Finally, Uncle NoPass got a grip on Midnight, who also got a grip on Uncle NoPass‘s grip.

Uncle NoPass repeatedly tried to throw Midnight to the ground while Midnight desperately tried to hang on. The dogs, for their part, were jumping up and bouncing off of Uncle NoPass in their attempts to get a new chew toy. Uncle NoPass had one arm swinging wildly trying to block the dogs while the other was busy trying to get the cat to let go.

Finally knocking Midnight to the ground, the cat merely shook the skin from between his claws and reclaimed the high ground by using one of the confused dogs as a fulcrum in a vault toward the now scratched and bleeding summit.

“Excuse me“, Aunt NoPass told the ladies attending the Thursday afternoon tea and went to see what the commotion was in the back yard.

Just as Midnight was gaining the high ground , Aunt NoPass opened the screen door. Midnight, hearing the spring stretching, saw his chance and made a desperate leap over the dogs. It was a mad dash for the safety of the old frame house with the tri-colored pack in tow. Uncle NoPass, arms wind milling, tumbled back to sit in the tub he used to collect the pack‘s waste.

Midnight made it through the door before my aunt shut it in the excited pack of rabbit dog’s faces. Unable to stop, Judy, the lead dog, hit the screen, ripping it from it’s frame. The rest of the pack, their path now clear, charged into the kitchen and through the house in mad pursuit.

The ladies, blue haired heads moving in unison, watched as Midnight raced down the middle of the table scattering cookies and tea cups in his wake before jumping off and sliding around the corner. Trailing her was fat little Judy, who, unable to jump to the table, took a short cut underneath.
Bedlam erupted.
Ladies, trying to get out of the way as the rest of the pack of beagles charged into the room, tumbled from their chairs, cookies over tea kettle.

My aunt, froze in total shock for a good sixty seconds, then reached for her broom, getting into the chase.

Scaling the living room drapery bought Midnight only a brief respite before the curtains tumbled down on top of the hounds. Midnight leapt from his high point, bouncing off the covered struggling shapes and headed back outside to the safety of the pecan tree in the back of the yard.

The dogs trapped under the drapes felt the wrath of the straw broom until one at a time they found their way out from under the coverings and scurried out the torn and dangling screen door.

Uncle NoPass had struggled to get out of the dog pen’s refuse can, finally tipping it over in the process. Stripping down to his skivvies, he turned the water hose on himself while trying to wash off the waste.

The dogs, seeking the safety of their pen, charged past, spinning him like a top and into the now wet mess. Uncle NoPass got up, only to slide back down. He put his hands down and pushed up, only to have his hands slip from under him causing him to land flat, face down. He rolled out of the stinking mess, kicked at his clothes on the ground since none of the dogs or Midnight were handy and dropped his underwear into the garbage can as he headed into the house and the shower.

Aunt NoPass was flustering around, apologizing to the ladies and trying to salvage the unsalvageable. The ladies thought they had seen enough for this Thursday’s tea and were saying their goodbyes while tears of laughter welled up in their eyes. It turned out they hadn’t seen nearly enough, but they would.

At the sound of the screen door letting go of it’s last hinge, the eight blue hairs and Aunt NoPass turned in shock at the sight and smell that was Uncle NoPass. For his part, Uncle NoPass never slowed down as he charged past, heading for the shower.

Most teas were discussed for a few days usually ending on Sunday morning when the talk shifted to speculating about the next weeks tea and fading into vague memories jumbled together. This tea, however, became the gold standard that all others would be measured against.

Midnight, forever after, avoided both the dogpen and Uncle NoPass. I think a little bit of the arrogance had been chased out of him.

Gone fishing.
Back in a few days