That summer I was busy and worried and had no time to play with travel with cats. Ma and Pickle found ways to amuse themselves. Charlie got lonesome. He spent most of his time outdoors. So long as he came home to supper I didn’t wonder where he’d been and never dreamed that he was lonely. Then one afternoon Charlie came up the stairs from the garden, very slowly, look-
ing back at every step, making odd small chirruping chuckles. Behind him, in his shadow, came a skinny black kitten. Charlie led the kitten to the ice box, sat down and peeped at me, then he chirruped at the kitten, then he looked at the refrigerator. I fed the kitten. I called it Joe. The next afternoon Charlie came in with his Joe, and a second, identical Joe followed Charlie’s Joe. The third day there were three Joes.
Map of Habartov Photo Gallery