Morning Is Always Better

 

 

            The freight train rolled all through the night without stopping. Maurice and Sue slept on.
            Tucked up under Maurice’s chin, Sue, who was not very old after all, dreamed of her mother. The dream naturally led to thoughts of sweet milk. Then, as dreams do, it broadened and generalized and soon she was lapping melted ice cream, a frequent gift of her lady’s. She missed her lady very much. But so much of life is a mystery to even the most observant of kitties.
            With daylight came the squealing of brakes on the rails. It was rolling dead slow into a great American city. Through the narrow opening Maurice had allowed the night before Sue could see suburbs, and then an old downtown train station. It was time to wake up and be alert.
            “Maurice, I think you better wake up,” she said.
            When his eyes opened, he was startled to realize that last night’s kitten was still there and was, in fact, washing his face for him. He hardly knew how to react, and she just kept working on his face. "Can I come with you Maurice," she asked again.
            “I’m awake cat.” He set her back on the high packing crate and then went to look outside. “Yes, we better be ready to jump when we get a chance to. The way to do this is to get out and then back in later when no one is around watching, maybe a different train. We don’t want to be here when people are looking.
            “Are you sure cat? Life with me might be rough. Nobody likes a Howler, and prospects aren’t good. You might be sorry Sue!” said Maurice while looking out at the slowing scenery.
            “I’m not afraid Maurice. I’m so small I’ll be easy for you to carry, and we can look out for each other. I’m sure. When you jump, take me with you!” She purred as loudly as she could. “And my lady is gone.  I have only you, if you will let me come with you.”
            “Okay kid, then, let’s go!” barked Maurice, scooping her up and jumping to the pavement outside, into the brilliant sunshine. He hit the ground running, with Sue tucked up under his left arm. No one was there and they were not spotted.
            They needed water. Food would be nice, but water was urgently needed.
            “Let’s find a park,” said Sue. “There will be water fountains. She used to take me to a little park in town and there was water there in a fountain.”
            “Good idea, kid,” said Maurice and he slipped along the still sleeping streets until they could see a block covered in trees and other greenery with playground equipment in the center. There was indeed a water fountain also. They decided to spend the day there in the park and return to the station when evening came. It looked like it was going to be a long day, trying to not be noticed. They settled in to wait down under some laurel bushes.
            After noon, Maurice and Sue started hearing guitar music. “That sounds like somebody I know,” whispered Maurice. “I met this guy camping in a basement back there. I wonder. Sure sounds like one of his songs! I better go look, Sleeky Sue! If it’s him, we’re in luck I betcha!”
            A somewhat shabby looking young man, maybe in his thirties, was seated on one of the benches near the entrance of the park. He had a long brown ponytail, an old guitar and case, boots, sweater, jacket and jeans. He was playing up a storm and had a western hat upside down on the pathway. The hat had a few bucks in it. He didn’t even look up when Maurice, carrying Sue, came up to him.
            “Joe! Hey Joe!” hissed Maurice. The guy looked up, startled.
            “Maurice, what the heck are you doing here?” he said. He had stopped playing his song in mid strum and he quite gaped.
            “Came in on a train, Joe. I had to get out of that damp grey place and away from those crazy people! I beat it last night. Oh, I met this cat on the train,” said Maurice.
            “Last time I saw you, you were in trouble for eating…” he trailed off.
            “Never mind that, Joe. I changed my mind. What are you doing here?” countered Maurice. “This cat is smarter than me.  She’s comin’ with me.”
            “I’ve been hitching,” said Joe. “I’ve been to six cities just in the last two weeks. I play my songs on this old thing and collect a few bucks for my trouble.  It ain’t the mother lode, dude, I’ll attest to that fact!” He put his hands in his lap and looked kinda blue about it all. He was actually pretty lonely, if the truth were known.
            “I’ve got some good songs Maurice. If I could just get the right guy’s ear I know they would make it,” said Joe.
            “Are you still playing those folk songs,” asked Maurice.
            “Naw, I wrote some kinda western ballads. I thought they would work better out here on the streets busking for bucks. They’re good songs. So far, this is my life’s work.  I have to get something going somehow.”
            “Me and Sue here are going to Missouri, back home.  I want to get something going too.  I just don’t quite know what yet. But that’s where we’re going. Going to get another train tonight. Bound to be one heading east, Joe,” said Maurice.
            “I have an idea,” Sue said suddenly. Both guys looked at her silently.
            “Why doesn’t Joe come with us? I think between the three of us something very interesting could happen. Think about it.  Why not?” Then she waited.
            “Be fine with me, Joe.  This is a smart cat.  She knows stuff,” said Maurice happily.
            “Well, okay. That might be the craziest thing I have ever heard. Invited to hop a freight train heading for Missouri with a kitten named Sue and the Ozark Howler.  Why not, indeed! Let’s do it!  All for one, and one for all!” said Folkie Joe, putting his guitar back into its case and putting his hat on his head. “Let’s do it!”