bookstore cats | Wendy Welch: Books, Yarn, Cats, Opioids

Shopsitter David tells of his relationship with a special lady….

I first met Beulah a little over two years ago at the Big Stone Celtic Festival. It was a beautiful late September day with the sun shining and a light breeze just moving the leaves on the trees in town. I had just sat down to eat lunch on a park bench after watching a friend perform for the Celtic festival.

Beulah sat down beside me on the park bench and asked if she could have a chip. Knowing that Beulah’s father was from Scotland and that her mother had lived in Scotland after her marriage, I knew that Beulah was asking for a French fry out of my bag.

I told her yes of course never being one to shy away from eating with a lady. Beulah helped herself to a few chips and we chatted about her life, family, and Big Stone Gap.

Beulah had been born in Florida and moved to Big Stone Gap 8 years earlier when her mother accepted a position at the local university. Beulah really enjoyed speaking about her town and all of the people she knew. I’ve discovered a lot from talking to Beulah. She keeps many secrets about the bookstore and the town. I think that’s why she gets anything she wants to eat; she knows too much.

Beulah likes being a bookstore cat but she is very reserved around other cats and keeps to herself. She prefers the company of one other human, preferably in his or her lap.

Little did I know that this would be the start of a great friendship. Over the past two years, Beulah and I have become close friends and she often refers to me as the “guy who shares chips.”

Beulah, I just want to tell you that you are one of the best friends that person can have. Next time I’m there, we have to get our picture taken together!

A guest post from Jack on a special occasion –

It’s just a year since our beloved Valkyttie passed over the rainbow bridge and we can begin now to celebrate her more memorable escapades without breaking into tears.

Val-Kyttie surveys her domain…

For newer readers Val was our venerable bookstore cat/manager and was age 19 when she died. She began her life as a tiny abandoned kitten in the Leith cat and dog home in Scotland and we adopted her as soon as Wendy arrived in my homeland (as promised; I bribed her to marry me with early promises of kittens).

Val got her name because she was feisty (the valkyries were warrior princesses), but I wanted to be able to call her ‘Kittie’ for short. She displayed her bravery starting in her sixth week of life, by seeing off a local tom (ten times her size) who tried to use our yard as a shortcut. A seasoned traveler she moved effortlessly from Fife to Lancashire, then across the Atlantic to the US. Everywhere she lived, she established as her undisputed domain and took full charge.

When ‘The Little Bookstore’ was published we insisted she appear on the cover and the artist, a cat lover, obliged; she is sitting on the roof of our front porch. When the publishers of the large print edition asked for a photo for that front cover, we gave them a picture our friend Elissa took of Our Matriarch in full managerial mode, surrounded by bookshelves. Whether by accident or design, the Polish, Portuguese and Korean editions all have her hiding somewhere on their covers. Of course that means she garnered many new friends all over the world, while many of her less distant fans asked specially to meet her when they visited the bookstore.

During the last couple of years of her life, she had to put up with a continual stream of foster kittens. She could be quite stern with them, yet displayed grandmotherly traits with the more wayward ones.

Just yesterday our good chef Kelley made bacon and eggs for my breakfast and I found myself automatically moving to a less accessible corner to eat it. I realized that I was remembering that Valkyttie always noisily insisted on her share of the bacon.

When we lived in the tiny rural village of New Gilston in Fife she would always accompany us when we walked along our favorite woodland trail. In January I was in Scotland for the funeral of a friend and scattered Val’s ashes among those same trees.

That’s when I shed my tears. Now we just think of the happy times. Every cat is special, but once in awhile, a special x ten cat comes along. Valkyttie was special x 100.

And now she lives on; a friend of Wendy’s got ‘hold of another cracker of a photo Elissa took, and Valkyttie’s message will never die.