Alexei was a young man when my Great, Great (multiplied by a large number) Grandmother Mruczek came to live with him. She was fairly young herself. She was no longer a kitten although not quite a full grown cat.
In human terms, you could say that she was a teenager. That is, she was around six months old or so at the time. This was shortly before her first pregnancy. So, in practical terms, Mruczek and Alexei were in similar stages of growth and maturity when they came to live together.
Now, my human translator Yankl suggested that some readers might wonder why Alexei gave my Great, Great (multiplied by a large number) Grandmother such a masculine name. He could have, after all, called her something feminine such as Mruczka or possibly Kizia i Mruczek as these are common Polish names for female cats.
Well, truth be told, for one, she was a fairly tough looking and muscular feline. Without a close examination, a casual human observer might readily have mistaken her for a Tom rather than a Queen.
Of course, Alexei was well aware of mammalian gendering. He would have had no problem differentiating between a stallion and a mare, a bull and a cow, or a boar and a sow. Cats, on the other hand, require far closer examination and Alexei and my Great, Great (multiplied by a large number) Grandmother had not developed such a relationship that allowed for such close interaction and examination when he began calling her Mruczek.
My Great, Great (multiplied by a large number) Grandmother did, however, have an impressive voice, meowing at the cottage threshold. Her voice captured Alexei’s attention and eventually his affection.
The truth is that what people call us is of hardly any importance. As cats are fond of saying, we don't care what you call us…as long as it's not late for supper.
The question that I find more intriguing, which, for some reason hadn't crossed Yankl's mind, no offense meant my translator but maybe he isn't all that inquisitive, is this; why did a Wallachian peasant whose Mother Tongue was Romanian give a cat a Polish name? That's always been a mystery for me.
Of course, as I mentioned before, the mentshn, the Russians, Lithuanians, Poles, Ukrainians, Tatars, Romanians, and even the Yidden, lived in close proximity with one another. A significant amount of exchange and interaction took place even without these various people having a common shprakh. Alexei, as you will soon see, circulated among these mentshn and was, even as a youth, somewhat of a polyglot.
Anyway, my story continues…
Alexei, though young, was both intelligent and clever for a peasant lad. He had been largely on his own from before he had even turned ten.
Alexei would run off for days or even weeks at a time. There was always plenty of work to do out in the world and he was good at finding himself a position. There were always stables that needed mucking out. For a while he was an assistant for a chronically drunk ferryman. He was a blacksmith's helper for a time. He was the chief pot scrubber and potato peeler at a lumbering encampment.
Whenever Alexei returned home, no one seemed particularly concerned that he had been gone. He always came back with some newly acquired skills and a few coins in his pocket. After a while, he would head out on a new adventure.
Alexei certainly wasn't much older than twelve when he joined up with a troupe of entertainers traversing the Russian Empire. He traveled far and wide, caring for the horses as well as training dancing bears.
Alexei was on the road for several years and by the time he returned to the region of his birth he was nearly an adult. On this occasion, however, he soon learned that his circumstances had been greatly altered.
A few months earlier Alexei’s mother had become quite ill and had passed away. Alexei's father, Georgi, arranged for her burial and mourned her to the best of his ability, before returning to his routine of working alone in the forest as he had become accustomed to. Georgi was cutting trees alone in the woods when his axe slipped and he injured himself. Georgi dragged his broken body back to the trail where he bled out.
So Alexei learned of the passing of his parents from the villagers upon his return to the region of his birth. The peasants urged him to speak with the village priest who had overseen Georgi's last rites and Alexei's inheritance while he had been gone.
Alexei went to the church where he found Father Kiril. It was early in the day so the priest was still relatively sober and his vision was still fairly clear. After blinking a few times, he recognized Alexei and managed to remember who he was. Alexei approached Father Kiril, removed his cap, and kissed the priest’s hand.
Father Kiril invited young Alexei into his office. Father Kiril sat in a plush chair behind a large desk. Alexei sat on a stool on the opposite side of the desk. Father Kiril filled two glasses with vodka, one glass for himself and one for Alexei. Father Kiril placed a large accounting book on the desk and began to speak of the material matters concerning Georgi's estate.
The priest patiently explained to the boy what resources his father had, how the priest had managed these resources while Alexei was absent, and what was presently due to be transferred to Alexei as his inheritance. It all was a blur for Alexei, and not only because of the vodka. Much of the information was difficult for Alexei to follow because he was illiterate and only had a rudimentary understanding of the simplest of math.
Alexei came into possession of his family's cottage, a pair of horses, a carriage, several goats, a small flock of chickens, a few ducks, and a small bag of coins. The priest explained to Alexei that it was customary for someone in his position to tithe to the Holy Church. As Alexei was uncertain about the math involved, Father Kiril gracefully offered to help him figure a proper percentage of the coins that would remain with the priest. Then, Father Kiril offered the young man his blessings and walked him to the door.
So it was that Alexei was committed to the maintenance of a home and the care of the fowl and livestock that came with it. This was a big change for a youth who had traveled the Russian Empire with a circus and dancing bears.
Alexei wasn't sure what to make of all this domesticity but it certainly, for the moment seemed to be his fate. He fiddled about in and around the family cottage, contemplating his situation. When my Great, Great (multiplied by a large number) Grandmother Mruczek came meowing at the door of Alexei’s cottage, she certainly could see that the young man needed her assistance. She also smelled chicken roasting, which is always an incentive for a cat to develop a relationship with those of the humankind.
The following day, while Alexei was busying himself outside of the cottage, a foreign looking, oddly dressed man with a long and bushy beard, carrying a peddler’s sack - in short, a Yid - arrived tsufus, on foot. Alexei offered the traveler a cup of water, which the Yid accepted. The traveler held the cup in his hands and muttered a bracha in what surely sounded cryptic to Alexei, a prayer to the Most High.
This Yid, of course, was the Baal Shem Tov. After he quenched his thirst, he placed a hand on Alexei’s shoulder and proceeded to utter a blessing for the youth. Alexei shuddered. He remembered seeing this odd Yid before. Alexei remembered seeing this traveler talking to his boss while he was shoveling manure. That night, his boss gave him a new blanket and a loaf of bread. Alexei remembered seeing the traveler on the ferry and that he pressed a gold coin into Alexei’s palm as he exited the boat. He remembered seeing him at one of the circus sets in a small, out-of-the-way village where the bear that Alexei was handling performed with particular grace. When the Baal Shem Tov removed his hand from Alexei’s shoulder, the lad fainted.
When Alexei came to, he was sitting on a chair inside the cottage. The Baal Shem Tov was attending to the lad. A damp cloth was being applied to his forehead. Mruczek was sitting on the floor beside Alexei, watching over him with concern.
When the Baal Shem Tov felt assured that Alexei would be alright, he spoke to the young man. “I blessed your father Georgi for the service that he provided when he was just a boy. He was prosperous because of the blessing. I have kept an eye on you, over the years, to assure that you were safe and prosperous yourself. Now that you are becoming a man, it is time that you and I enter into a contract.”
The Baal Shem Tov gave Alexei a small pouch of coins of various denominations. He told Alexei that the money should be considered a deposit.
“This,” continued the BeShT, “is what I expect of you. You will keep your horses healthy and your wagon will be well maintained. You will need to be ready at a moment's notice to travel, any time I come here or send for you, day or night. Wherever I tell you to go and whatever I ask you to do, you will do without questioning. For this, you will be compensated well, in this world and also in the World to Come.”
“In the meantime, young man, until I need you, you must dedicate your time to learning how to read and write. I will be sending you a tutor. He will be here in a couple of days. If you were literate you wouldn't have let that drunk priest steal half of your inheritance!”
“I will be going now,” concluded the Baal Shem Tov, and he headed to the door. Then, he paused and began reaching about among the many pockets of his bulky clothes until he retrieved what he was looking for. He bent over and gave Mruczek a schtickle of herring. Again, the BeShT spoke to Alexei. “And, take good care of this ketsl and she will take care of you.”
With that, the Baal Shem Tov was on his way. Alexei was under contract to be at the BeShT's beck and call. Mruczek, my Great Great (multiplied by a large number) Grandmother was assured a secure forever home.
And here I must break off the telling of this tale, for now. I am due for a very long cat nap. Tomorrow is another day.
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