Chapter 4: From Whiskers to Pearl

I am a cat—Grandma’s Whiskers.

The nasty man who set his dumb dog on people was finally caught and handed over to the cops.

Grandma never tried to chase me away again.

To reward my heroics, Grandma fried up a catfish fillet, crispy edges and all, just for me.

Kittens aren’t really that into fish, but Grandma thought I’d love it.

The warm kitchen stove made me feel cozy. I lay by Grandma’s side, listening to her chatter.

“That boy’s so heartless. A little kitten like you could’ve lived in luxury in the city, but now you’re stuck eating country food with this old lady.”

“Meow meow.”

“Old Bill loved cats. If he hadn’t passed away early, if he could see Whiskers now, he’d be so happy.”

“Meow.”

...

Whenever she called my name, I’d twitch my ears in reply.

The little yard was quiet, just Grandma and me talking. Even the rustling of maple leaves in the wind was clear as day. A faded American flag fluttered from the porch post, the scent of woodsmoke lingering from someone’s distant barbecue.

She kept talking, “Whiskers, from now on, you’re Grandma’s Whiskers.”

But as soon as she said it, she suddenly fell silent.

Something wasn’t right.

She mulled it over. “Grandma’s… Whiskers?”

She slapped the stove and exclaimed, “No! This name won’t do! It’s too silly for this old lady!”

I was startled, eyes wide, and meowed.

She looked me up and down, thinking hard. “You’re so white—let’s call you Pearl. My last name’s Young, so you’re Pearl Young.”

Grandma’s hands were rough from years of gardening, but gentle when she scratched behind my ears. My new name carried all of Grandma’s hopes for me.

She said pearls are precious, so I was her confidant. Pearl, because you’re rare and tough and shine even when you’re covered in mud.

But I didn’t become her confidant. Instead, I became her number one headache.