Marlowe Saves the Book Order

Receiving book orders can be challenging to those of us who live out in the woods. Rather than lament books left in the rain, books turning back when thwarted by construction, cyber chats that make one doubt the future of artificial intelligence . . . I choose to let Shay, Chronicler of the Deeds of Marlowe, explain how one cat really can make a difference. This is indeed a true record of an experience this fall, set down by Shay, who does not exaggerate.

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The Deeds of Marlowe, Book One

No one knows where Marlowe came from or how he came to the shelter; he emerged from the shadows one day, abandoned and limping, his noble brow furrowed as he paced about his new dwelling. And It came to pass that the one known to me as Mother found him there and invited him to join our family, being troubled by his melancholy demeanor. Marlowe vowed that from that day forward he would treasure and watch over her, ​naming her as Mistress, for that, apparently, is what noble cats do (although I disagree that the title I employ is childish and dog-like.)

I am Shay, companion and scribe to Marlowe, and I am sworn to document full accurately and honestly his mighty deeds. For he has commissioned me to do so, and I have agreed, for his temper is short and his claws long.
Today I shall tell how Marlowe saved his mistress's book order.

"My heart is troubled," Marlowe growled softly, "for yesterday my mistress suffered grave anxiety. The boxes known as 'book order' approached, but at the last minute they were turned aside by the grinding apparatus of industry. FriesenPress, though brave and determined, had commissioned others who were not of Friesen for this vital last step, and these had failed to fulfill their oaths.

"I would see my mistress smile again, and therefore, my jolly companion Shay, we shall see the prestige of FriesenPress restored, see that book order delivered, and bring rejoicing to my mistress's table."

Now, I was sore perplexed, for Mother was working in the town, and had locked the portal securely. I could not see how we could succeed in this quest. Marlowe studied the plexiglass portal long and hard. 

"Alas," he murmured, "our enemies are cunning." Determination shone in his green eyes. "But we, noble Shay, shall outdo them. For I shall summon them forth and draw deep into my feline nature to control them. By the power of my will, I will compel their obedience in all things."

Marlowe stared hard into the morning light, tense and unwavering. And behold! The grinding of an engine was heard on the hill, and a van appeared in the driveway. Marlowe decreed it, and it was so.

Now Marlowe rose, his body taut and trembling, his eyes fixed and staring. "Come to me," he murmured, "come now."

A person lurched from the car. Like a being mechanical, they shuffled to the back, then wavered forward, two great boxes clutched in their arms, eyes riveted on Marlowe's face.

Marlowe growled low in his throat, his body shaking with the strain, eyes squeezed shut. And I Shay speak true! The ground shook and thunder rumbled, and the person stepped forward, graciously laying the two boxes before Marlowe. They shook their head in amazement, turned, and rushed to their car.

Marlowe, exhausted, collapsed in a heap, panting. His breathing gradually slowed and became even; gentle snores gurgled in his throat.

"Rest well, great Marlowe," I intoned, "and I will keep vigil. You have well earned this rest."

Now when Mother returned, I lay watching the books, while great Marlowe tumbled in sleep on the floor. "Lazy cat," she said, and my heart broke for my noble friend.

Many were the deeds of Marlowe, great and wondrous. I, Shay, Chronicler of the Deeds of Marlowe, vow solemnly that they shall be known. Without Marlowe, Mother and FriesenPress would have languished in despair, their efforts thwarted. And Marlowe did many other deeds, and these I set down in all truth. Within days, Marlowe would battle and defeat the being known as Algorithm, a fearsome beast, terrible to behold, that haunted Mother's computer. 

But that is a tale for another time.

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