Speaker 1: The library cat. The Maple Hills Public Library is a
Speaker 1: brick building with tall windows and a roof that leaks
Speaker 1: in exactly one place, right above the mystery section. It
Speaker 1: has been there for over a hundred years. The shelves
Speaker 1: are made of dark oak, the floors are made of
Speaker 1: wide planks that creak when you walk, and the air
Speaker 1: smells like paper and dust and something warm that no
Speaker 1: one can quite name. The library As a cat, his
Speaker 1: name is Dewey, named after the old filing system that
Speaker 1: no one uses anymore. He is a calico, which means
Speaker 1: he is mostly orange and white with patches of black
Speaker 1: that make him look like he is wearing a tuxedo
Speaker 1: to the wrong event. He is twelve years old, which
Speaker 1: is old for a cat, but not too old. He
Speaker 1: has a favorite windowsill, a favorite chair, and a favorite person,
Speaker 1: though the favorite person changes every evening. Dewey chooses his
Speaker 1: person at six o'clock, that is when the evening crowd
Speaker 1: settles in. The after work people, the after school people,
Speaker 1: the people who come to the library not because they
Speaker 1: need a book, but because they need a room that
Speaker 1: is quiet and warm and does not ask anything of them.
Speaker 1: At six o'clock, Dewey jumps down from his windowsill and
Speaker 1: walks through the stacks. He does not rush. He is
Speaker 1: a library cat, and library cats do not rush. He
Speaker 1: walks past the new releases, past the reference section, past
Speaker 1: the computer lab where a teenager is doing homework and
Speaker 1: trying not to fall asleep. He stops, He looks. He
Speaker 1: chooses one evening. Dewey chose a girl named Sophie. Sophie
Speaker 1: was twelve and had a math worksheet spread out on
Speaker 1: the table in front of her. She was staring at
Speaker 1: it the way a person stares at a locked door
Speaker 1: when they have lost the key. Her pencil was still,
Speaker 1: her shoulders were tight. Dewey jumped onto the table. He
Speaker 1: walked across the worksheet, leaving paw prints on the lined paper.
Speaker 1: Sophie looked up. She laughed. It was the first time
Speaker 1: she had laughed all day. Dewey settled on her lap.
Speaker 1: He purred. The sound was low and steady, like a
Speaker 1: small engine running. Sophie put her hand on his back
Speaker 1: and felt the vibration travel up her arm. She picked
Speaker 1: up her pencil. She started to work. The numbers did
Speaker 1: not seem so sharp anymore. Dewey purred through the entire worksheet,
Speaker 1: and when Sophie packed up to leave, she whispered thank
Speaker 1: you into his fur. The next evening, Dewey chose an
Speaker 1: old man named Gerald. Gerald came to the library every
Speaker 1: day at six. He read the newspaper, the real one,
Speaker 1: the kind that leaves ink on your fingers. He sat
Speaker 1: in the same chair, the one by the window that
Speaker 1: looked out onto the parking lot. Dewey jucked onto Gerald's lap.
Speaker 1: Gerald looked down. He had not been touched by another
Speaker 1: living thing in three days. He put his hand on
Speaker 1: the cat's back. Dewey purred. Gerald read his newspaper with
Speaker 1: one hand and petted the cat with the other, and
Speaker 1: for a few minutes the parking lot outside the window
Speaker 1: did not look so empty. One evening, Dewey chose a
Speaker 1: woman named Ruth. Ruth was sitting in the poetry section,
Speaker 1: which was the quietest part of the library. She was
Speaker 1: not reading. She was crying very softly, the way people
Speaker 1: cry when they do not want anyone to notice. Dewey
Speaker 1: jumped onto the shelf beside her. He sat there for
Speaker 1: a moment, looking at her with his yellow eyes. Then
Speaker 1: he stepped carefully onto her lap, as if he understood
Speaker 1: that this was a person who needed gentleness. Ruth put
Speaker 1: her hand on the cat. She felt his warmth, his
Speaker 1: heart beat, the slow rise and fall of his breathing.
Speaker 1: She cried a little more, but differently now, not the
Speaker 1: sharp crying of someone who is alone, the softer crying
Speaker 1: of someone who is being held. Dewey stayed with Ruth
Speaker 1: for an hour. He did not try to fix anything,
Speaker 1: He did not try to make her stop crying. He
Speaker 1: just sat there, warm and alive, purring. When Ruth left,
Speaker 1: she stopped at the front desk and asked the librarian
Speaker 1: if the cat belonged to anyone. The librarian smiled. He
Speaker 1: belongs to everyone, she said, and no one. He just
Speaker 1: lips here. Ruth came back the next evening and the
Speaker 1: evening after that. She did not always cry. Sometimes she
Speaker 1: read poetry. Sometimes she just sat. Dewey did not always
Speaker 1: choose her, but when he did, she felt it like
Speaker 1: a gift. The library closed at nine. At eight fifty five,
Speaker 1: the lights flickered to signal closing time. Dewey would stretch, yawn,
Speaker 1: and jump down from wherever he had been sitting. He
Speaker 1: would walk to the front door, wait for the last
Speaker 1: person to leave, and then settle into his bed behind
Speaker 1: the circulation desk, a cardboard box lined with a fleece
Speaker 1: blanket that a volunteer had donated years ago. The night janitor,
Speaker 1: a man named Louis, always checked on Dewey before locking up.
Speaker 1: He would find the cat curled in his box, eyes
Speaker 1: half closed, purring faintly. Louis would say good night, and
Speaker 1: Dewey would blink once, slowly, which is the catway of
Speaker 1: saying I trust you. The library was quiet at night.
Speaker 1: The books sat on their shelves, the dust settled, the
Speaker 1: leaking ceiling dripped into the bucket in the mystery section,
Speaker 1: a slow metronome marking the hours, and Dewey slept warm
Speaker 1: and safe, surrounded by stories. In the morning, when the
Speaker 1: first librarian arrived at eight, Dewey would be sitting on
Speaker 1: the front desk, washed and composed, ready to begin again.
Speaker 1: He would watch the people come in. He would watch
Speaker 1: them choose their books, their tables, their corners. He would
Speaker 1: wait until six o'clock and then he would choose people.
Speaker 1: Sometimes asked why the library had a cat. The answer
Speaker 1: was simple. A library is a place where people go
Speaker 1: to be alone together. A cat understands this perfectly. A
Speaker 1: cat is an animal that loves you without asking you
Speaker 1: to explain yourself. A cat sits on your lap and
Speaker 1: does not care about your grades, or your job or
Speaker 1: your grief. A cat just purrs, and sometimes that is
Speaker 1: exactly what a person needs. The Maple Hill's Public Library
Speaker 1: is open Monday through Saturday, nine to nine. Admission is free.
Speaker 1: The cat is free too. If you go at six o'clock,
Speaker 1: you might be the one he chooses. If not, you
Speaker 1: can sit in the quiet and listen to the page's
Speaker 1: turn and the floor creek and the ceiling drip, and
Speaker 1: you can know that you are welcome here in this
Speaker 1: warm room full of stories, where an old calico cat
Speaker 1: walks through the stacks and chooses every evening someone to
Speaker 1: sit with. And if you fall asleep in the library,
Speaker 1: that is all right too. Dewey will not mind. He
Speaker 1: will sit on your lap and purr, and the books
Speaker 1: will keep their stories for when you are ready, and
Speaker 1: the night will be gentle, and the morning will come softly,
Speaker 1: and you will wake feeling rested, with the faint smell
Speaker 1: of paper in your hair and the memory of a
Speaker 1: warm weight on your legs.