Stymie the Mouser

Did I torture Augie behind the counter? Yes, I did.
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Augie was the manager of Reliable Grocery store at the southwest corner of York & 84th Street. When my grandmother needed a mouser in 1972, she kicked me out of the house and told me not to come back without a cat. It was 80 degrees at nine in the morning and the air smelled foul from the butcher's garbage. I went across the street to Reliable to get a soda, inside the ice cream fridge with the slide glass top wide-open, was a box with four white kittens cuddled together. I asked Augie what's up? He said, given them away, take two. I took one with a pink nose, crossed York Avenue with the kitten in one hand covered by my other hand and went up 1582 and gave my grandmother the cat, and said, "Her name is Sally."

My grandmother looked underneath the kitten and said "it's not a girl. it's a boy."

"His name is "Stymie," I said.
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Stymie was best friends with Sparky Lyle, my nan's dog for 11 years. Nearly, took Sparky's eye out, but that's what cats do, whack dogs for no good reason when they are sleeping.