#5: Nibbler

Daisy is 20, May 16, Sam 12, Marigold nearly 9, and Hamfast 66 (about 13, 10, 7, 6, and 42 in Man years)

Winterfilth 1392
 

“Shhh!”

“Be quiet!”

“That’s what ‘shhhh’ means!”

“Someone needs to get blankets.”

“I’ll get them!”

“And I’ll get milk.”

“I’ll get a fire going.”

“Where’s Gaffer?”

“I don’t know, but be ready to pout when you see him.”

Daisy put a hand on her hip and looked askance at May. “Don’t you think we’re a bit too old for that?” she asked.

May shook her head. “You can never be too old to pout at Daddy, especially when it works so well.”

Daisy looked at the small bundle of black, white and orange fur, the only part of the wee kitten visible beneath May’s buttoned coat.

The Gamgee children had been on their way home from Missus Rumble’s, walking huddled together to keep as much of the drizzle off them as they could, when they had hear a desperate and altogether despondent mewing coming from a copse of trees lining the right side of the road. They had gone to investigate and had found this poor lost kitten trying to hide from the rain under a sparse bush. Upon hearing their approach, the kitten had darted out and started rubbing itself against Daisy’s legs, as if it knew it would have to win her over before having any hope of being taken inside to warmth and shelter. The kitten needn’t have worried, for Daisy’s heart melted as soon as she saw the drenched and shivering calico emerge from the shrubs and she had scooped it up in an instant, only to have it wrested away by May a moment later. May had made a little pocket for the kitten on the inside of her coat and now the kitten was purring with delight.

Daisy smiled at the kitten and held her hands out for it. “We need to be feeding it,” she said in her motherly tones and May obligingly handed the kitten over. She had to get the fire going at any rate.

“Mew!” the kitten protested the loss of its warm shelter, but it instantly burrowed itself into the hollow between Daisy’s neck and shoulder. It balled itself up tight and started purring again.

“Do you really think Dad’ll make us get rid of it?” Sam asked as he and Marigold returned with the blanket and a bowl of milk. Sam stood up on tiptoe to finger the kitten’s nose and scratch beneath its chin. “I mean, so long as we take care of it and all. It’s not like it won’t feed itself once its old enough. It won’t cost us naught to keep it.”

“I know that,” Daisy said, “but we got to convince Dad of that, and now that I think on it, if we all pout together at just the right time, Dad’ll have to say yes.”

“Can I hold it?” Goldie asked from beside her brother. Daisy nodded, so Goldie bent down and carefully put the bowl of milk on the floor, careful not to spill a drop. Then she stood and held her arms out, but Daisy shook her head.

“Sit on the chair first,” Daisy instructed. When her little sister was settled, Daisy turned to Sam. “Put the blanket on her lap. We’re going to put the kitten in the blanket and make it a little nest. You two can watch it and feed it the milk while May and I see to supper.”

Sam eagerly obeyed and Goldie nearly bounced out of the chair in her excitement. She wasn’t only going to get to hold the kitten, but she was going to get to watch over it too! She sat as still as she could once the kitten was in her lap and waited until Daisy stopped fussing over the blanket. Only the kitten’s little furry head and wide blue eyes could be seen by the time Daisy was done, and it lay on Goldie’s lap purring away as it had always been.

“The kitten likes me!” Goldie said to Sam, who nodded in agreement.

Daisy and May went to the kitchen to begin supper and Sam fetched the bowl of milk from the floor. He sank into the chair next to Goldie and held the bowl just below the kitten’s nose. The kitten sniffed cautiously a few times, then stuck out a small pink tongue and eagerly started lapping up the milk. Goldie snickered. “It looks funny when it does that,” she said. “Do you think it’s a girl or boy cat?”

Sam shrugged. “Didn’t get a good enough look to tell,” he said. “We’re going have to know so as we can name it proper.”

“Let’s name it Patches, because of all the colors,” Goldie said.

Sam considered this for a few moments. “That’s a good name,” he said, “but that seems more like a girl cat’s name. What if it’s a lad? He’d need something more rascally I reckon.”

“Then what should we name it if it’s a lad?” Goldie asked, still watching the kitten intently. “Look! Its tongue folds backwards! That’s how it drinks the milk!”

Sam nodded. “Aye, it does as that.” He had already known that, having watched the cats and dogs on the Cotton farm perform this same task numerous times before. He went back to scratching the kitten on its head, amazed at how soft the fur was now that it was starting to dry off a bit. “How ‘bout Nibbler, if it’s a lad,” he suggested at length.

“Nibbler,” Goldie said, testing the word on her tongue. She said it a few more times, then smiled. “That’s a good one.”

The milk was soon gone and the kitten began sniffing around for other things to eat. It nibbled on Goldie’s fingers, then started tasting Sam’s shirt sleeve but finally gave that up as a lost cause. The kitten returned its nose to the bowl and licked up whatever tastes still lingered there.

“I think its still hungry,” Sam observed. “I’ll get more milk and ask Daisy what all we can feed it. Don’t move.”

Goldie nodded and barely noticed when Sam got up and left. She was completely enthralled with the kitten and she was wondering just how one could tell if a kitten was a lad or a lass, when she heard the door open and her father come in.

“Hullo Gaffer!” Daisy, May and Sam greeted from the kitchen. Daisy and May started to earnestly chatter away, speaking over each other in their haste to keep their father from going into the parlor just yet. “You must be chilled! The stove fire’s going; it’s much warmer here than in the parlor.” “We’re making beef stew, thick and hearty for a chill evening.” “Did you get word about Uncle Andwise?” “What about Hamson?” “You look mighty tired, mayhap you should go lie down for a bit.”

In between all this, Sam crept back into the parlor with more milk and a few pieces of mashed beef from the stew. He poured the milk over the beef to cool the meat and make it softer as Daisy had been advising him to do when their father came home. When the mash was ready, he took a small bit of meat and held it out to the kitten, who greedily ate it up, purring so loudly they thought for certain the Gaffer would hear it. Bit by bit, Sam fed the kitten and Marigold even got to give it a nibble or two. They failed to notice how completely silent the smial had become, what with the kitten’s purring and all, and didn’t notice their audience until the food was gone and Sam was getting up to get more.

Sam stood up from the chair and turned to head back into the kitchen and gulped as he looked up into his father’s carefully expressionless face. He knew Daisy had wanted to wait until they were all together and so could gang up on Gaffer more effectively, but he couldn’t help asking, “Can’t we keep him, Gaffy?” and pouting ever so slightly.

Gaffer looked down at his son, then over at Goldie, who was also putting in a good pout, then at the kitten, who was curling up in its blankets, now fed and satisfied. Its purrs filled the room as it moved about in its blanket trying to find a comfortable position to lay down. It pawed at the blankets, fluffing them up a bit more here, flattening them out a bit there, then circled about a few times and finally lay down. It rested its little head on the edge of the blanket near Goldie’s hand and lazily reached out its tongue to give her fingers one last lick. Then it yawned, wide and long, and soundly went to sleep, purring all the while.

“That kitten most likely belongs to someone,” Gaffer said.

“But it was out in the rain all alone and cold!” Sam said.

“And it was so hungry,” Goldie added. “We found it, so its ours now. Can we keep it? Please!”

“We’ll take very good care of it,” Sam put in. “We’ll feed it, until its old enough to hunt that is, and we’ll make sure as it gets milk and water, and we’ll clean up after it and…”

Hamfast held out his hand. “Hold now, Sammy. I’ve no doubt you’d all give it the best care in the world, but whoever that kitten belongs to, they must be missing it something fierce by now. We’re going have to give it back.”

“But it’s ours!” Goldie said.

“We found it,” Sam said. “It came to us.”

Daisy and May were crowding into the room now. Daisy was old enough to understand that what her father said was right, but it didn’t mean she liked it. “Whoever it belongs to, they left it out in the rain, hungry and cold. We can’t be giving it back to someone like that,” she reasoned.

“Mostly likely, it snuck outdoors when no one was watching,” Gaffer said. “That’s what kittens do. We’ll ask around in the morning who it belongs to.”

“And if it don’t belong to no one?” Sam asked hopefully.

The children held their breaths and looked up at their father with yearn-filled eyes. “Can we keep it?” May dared to ask. “Please.” And then as one, all four children lowered their heads and peered up at him through their lashes, every one of them pouting.

Gaffer sighed, defeated. “You can keep him,” he promised and couldn’t help laughing when they jumped up and down and cheered. Only Goldie refrained from jumping, since the kitten was sleeping on her lap, but she did bounce a bit and grinned up at their father like a fool.

“Thanks Gaffer!” they said and Hamfast just chuckled some more.

“Only if we don’t find its proper owner,” Gaffer reiterated to which the children readily agreed, though they fervently hoped the owner wouldn’t be found.

Daisy and May went back to cooking and Sam returned the bowl to the kitchen. He came back an instant later to resume sitting next to Marigold and lightly fingering the kitten’s soft furry head.

Gaffer sat in his chair by the fire and watched his two youngest children caring for the kitten. He supposed he would live to regret his promise should they not find the owner, but he trusted his children to keep their word and see to the kitten’s needs. He didn’t much care for pets himself, but seeing as cats generally took care of themselves once they were old enough, he didn’t reckon it would be too much of a hassle to keep it – once the children came down from their swoon over having it in the first place that is.

Dinner was quickly finished and on the table. Goldie tried to bring the kitten to the table to lay on her lap while she ate, but Hamfast put his foot down against it. “He’ll be fine on his own for half an hour,” he assured, but was obliged to find a small box to put the kitten into until they could finish eating. Marigold was convinced the kitten might get lost again otherwise, and Hamfast saw the simple wisdom in that. Kittens were prone to roaming.

The children ate their quickest meal to date, so eager they were to get back to the kitten. Sam stayed behind to help Daisy and May with the cleaning up, and then they sat around the fire cooing over the newest addition to their family. Sam told Daisy and May the names he and Goldie had come up with and Daisy quickly checked the kitten over. “It’s a lad,” she said. “Nibbler it is then.”

“I was hoping for a Patches,” Goldie said, but she quickly got over her disappointment when the kitten rolled over onto its back and stretched. “Awww! It’s so cute!”

“Can he sleep with me tonight?” Sam asked.

“It can sleep in its box,” Hamfast said.

“He, Dad. He’s a he,” Sam said. “Want to hold him?”

And before Hamfast could protest, Sam scooped the little calico up and plopped him onto his father’s lap. Nibbler instantly started kneading the Gaffer’s lap, turning its purr up to fill the room again. Hamfast sat still, watching the kitten warily, but Nibbler wasn’t having any of that. He had quickly become accustomed to the affectionate attentions of his new siblings, and the kitten wasted no time in nudging its white-and-orange head beneath the Gaffer’s hand and holding it there expectantly. When the Gaffer didn’t move to pet him, Nibbler wriggled his head about, then kneaded the Gaffer’s lap and maneuvered itself until its tiny little body was all but sheltered beneath the Gaffer’s large hand. Then it nipped lightly at a finger and wriggled his head again.

“He wants you to pet him,” Daisy supplied.

“Pet the kitten, Gaffy,” Goldie said. “You’re going to hurt his feelings.”

Sam just smiled innocently at his father and Gaffer grudgingly lifted his hand and pet the kitten. Nibbler rolled over and let Hamfast pet its belly and neck and before too long, the Gaffer was grinning down at the kitten. “He is rather a cute thing, ain’t he?” Gaffer conceded.

Nibbler did wind up sleeping with Sam that night. The lasses figured there were enough bodies in their one bed as it was and since Sam was by himself, he would get to sleep with the kitten. Sam nearly squeezed Nibbler in his excitement, but caught himself before he could harm the kitten. He carried Nibbler, blanket and all, to his room and was soon curled up on his side, the kitten cocooned beneath the bend of his arm.

The morning dawned bright and clear, and after first breakfast, the Gamgees left their smial on their sad mission. They had to find Nibbler’s owner if they could and return the kitten to its rightful home. Gaffer knew the kitten could likely have come from anywhere, from as close as the outskirts of Hobbiton to as far away as Overhill and beyond. He was determined at least to check the homesteads around the Hill and down into town, and possibly even to Bywater.

They spent a long day walking around the countryside, each taking turns to hold Nibbler. They called all over Hobbiton and well into Bywater before the day ended and no one they talked to knew anything of a missing kitten. With each home passed, the children grew more and more hopeful that they wouldn’t find Nibbler’s owner, and by the time Gaffer called an end to the search at sunset, they were fairly bouncing up and down with uncontained excitement.

“Does this mean he’s ours?” May asked.

“Aye, I suppose it does,” Gaffer said. “Granted, should the owner ever turn up, having heard it through the mill as we’ve got him, we’ll have to give it up.”

“But he’ll be ours by then,” Goldie said, clutching the kitten possessively to her. “Nibbler wouldn’t even know no one but us,” Sam put in. “We can’t just let some stranger take him,” Daisy added.

Hamfast threw up his hands. “Very well, very well, I see your point. We’ll give the owner a week to show himself, and after that, well, Nibbler’ll be ours flat out.”

“Yay!” the children cheered, and they skipped alongside Gaffer all the way down Bywater Road to their smial on the Hill.

When they arrived home, they quickly made a permanent home for the kitten, cutting the box down to a more accessible height for the little cat, and filling it with spare rags and old towels. A chipped tea saucer became Nibbler’s bowl and the dented tin bin that had previously held the spare rags became its chamber pot, which Sam filled with dirt and soil from the garden. It was generally agreed that while the kitten belonged to them all, Sam was in the most need of company at nights, so everything was moved into his room, where the kitten slept every night tucked under Sam’s arm, or in the curve behind his knees, or even draped around the crown of his head or along the length of his hip.

Even Gaffer wasn’t immune to Nibbler’s charms and the kitten could often be found curled up on Hamfast’s lap at nights after dinner, purring softly and contentedly as the Gaffer pet him. May found some string to make toys with and the children spent their nights playing with the kitten, laughing as he went chasing after the ever-elusive string. They soon discovered that it had quite a talent for kick ball, and Daisy made it several small tightly-coiled balls of yarn to bat around the floor and chase after. Goldie would often play catch with Nibbler, rolling the balls along the floor one after the other, picking them up as the kitten went chasing after another one.

The week came and went, and no one ever came calling on the kitten, and indeed not even a whisper of a hint of where the kitten had come from had been heard. So the kitten was officially named Nibbler Gamgee, and Hamfast was surprised to discover that he was every bit as happy about it as his children were.
 

The end.
 

GF 1/27/06