A Mother's Gifts

​    Conclusion

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    What is the funniest tale told in your family?

 

 

    We had a cat growing up. We also had a pool table, in the downstairs area, in what was called the recreation, or rec room.

    Some pool tables have drop pockets, usually of leather mesh, in which the balls accumulate until retrieved.

    Ours, however, was constructed with a gully system—an enclosed conduit, or channel, running the length of the table on either side, with a slight degree of downward slope to the head, or front. This was a convenient feature which gently harnessed gravity, and which served to retrieve the balls automatically during play. If, for instance, the 8 ball was in motion, rolling across the table surface and dropping into an end corner pocket, it would proceed to travel forward inside the table, passing under the side pocket. When the ball reached the head corner pocket, it would be nearing the end of its journey, and would reappear at the head of the table below the playing surface, on a recessed groove designed to hold any of the fifteen solid or striped balls no longer in play. 

    Well, one night after bedtime, the following events occurred, which Mom would later relate: 

 

    Mom and Dad were down in the rec room. Dad was at the pool table, and the sounds had attracted the attention of the cat. She had sprung up onto the table and had become intrigued as the balls disappeared into the pockets. She began reaching into the openings, swiping with a paw as they rolled away. 

    This, in turn, became a little game for Dad and the cat, with Mom as spectator.

    The method of play was simple. Dad, positioned at a head corner pocket, and with a flick of the wrist in the opening, would roll a pool ball up inside the table to the side pocket, where the cat was poised to swat at it with her paw.

    Once begun, the game continued, back and forth—Dad rolling the ball, and the cat swatting it back. 

    Eventually, Dad decided to stop—it was late and time for bed.

 

Sharing the story afterward with others, Mom would laugh robustly as she described what happened next:

 

    Dad was casually making his way toward the stairs, intending to call it a night, when out of the blue he was attacked. It was the cat. She was angry, and wild.

    And as Mom looked on, she witnessed Dad being chased around the pool table, as he attempted to evade the sharp claws.

    The cat had never exhibited this kind of behavior before. The abrupt change was bewildering.

    Then all at once it was obvious—she wanted to keep playing.

    And sure enough, as soon as Dad repositioned himself at the table, the cat relented, springing up once again to assume her place, as well.

    And so the game continued—Dad rolling the ball to the cat, and the cat swatting it back.

    It wasn’t until the cat tired of the sport that Dad was allowed to retreat, ascend the stairs, and retire for the evening.

                                                     

                         -End-

 

 

         In loving memory of

Beatrice Catherine Landwehr Stark

 

Mother: Thank you for the gifts, this Christmas

and every year—and for a lifetime of godly example.

God bless you always.

 

         The next vignette.

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