Quaker, the cat

Grandfather and Grandmother Head, with ? two daughters ?

Each summer those of us of a close age took turns at the farm. My two weeks were shared with cousin Betty and cousin Bob. We got along great except when Bob hid in dark corners of the barn and jumped out at us or taped things onto Quaker the cat's tail so she couldn't catch mice. We also were scolded a few times (my grandparents didn't believe in spankings – unlike Mother and Dad – and it would've been an effort for them to spank all six anyway).

Most scoldings were because we let Bob talk us into things, like going out on the trestle and jumping from the hay loft in the barn. I spent a lot of time tracking down Quaker the cat. She was a gray Maltese with a white Quaker collar. One winter when Grandfather and Grandmother went south for the winter we took the cat to our house, where she kept the basement mice-free and was an affectionate pet. The next spring she disappeared; we waited a week then drove to the farm and there she was. She had traveled 15 miles to get there. The Heads had not returned from the south so we took her back home. 

She seemed content enough until Dad bought me a Smoke Persian kitten for my birthday. When Quaker the cat saw my new kitten she climbed on the roof and would not come down for any reason. We finally were forced to put her food out our dormer window on the roof. When the weather got cooler she snuggled against the chimney and would come to the window to be petted but if we took her down and outside she went right back on the roof. We got an unusually early frost that year and she contracted pneumonia. In spite of all our nursing she died and our only consolation was that she was 10 years old and had lived a good life on the farm.