I know that these stories I am about to tell you may sound like fantasies but these are indeed true histories. I know this because I listened attentively to my mother even when I was very young. My ears were always perked while I nursed. My mother would speak to her kittens, feeding our minds while she was filling our bellies.
You see, I am a direct matrilineal descendent of Mruczek. Mruczek was the cat that lived with Alexei, the Baal Shem Tov’s driver. Because of this, Mruczek traveled extensively with the BeShT. Of course, that was many cat generations ago but cats have ancestral memories longer than tails.
It is true that cats often know little of their paternal lineage because there is always some uncertainty about our fathers. In fact, sometimes in any litter, the kittens may have several different fathers. When a cat is ready to be a mother, the inner forces of nature and the mysteries of the night are what determines short-term liaisons, with little or no concern for discretion. Beyond genetics, our fathers generally have little, if any influence on our upbringing. We all know, however, a great deal about our maternal lineage.
I am able to relay this particular tale to humankind because my human friend Yankl is gifted with the capacity of understanding cats. This is a rare and sensitive nature among humankind. Kol Hakavod! Much respect.
As well as being a sensitive being, Yankl is also literate and skilled at writing. As such, this is, to the best of my knowledge, the first time that a cat's perspective has ever been relayed in print. I cannot thank Yankl enough for his efforts. I have insisted that he be given proper credit right in the beginning, even though he humbly protested that he is undeserving of such praise.
Mentshn and cats have lived in close proximity for a very long time. Sometimes they even live together. There is a certain synchronicity to the relationship. Each, in some ways, serves the interests of the other. There is an unspoken and fluctuating social contract between the feline and the humankind, built on something beyond understanding for each of the species. On the whole, very few of either species can be said to really understand the other, but sometimes we come closer to mutual understanding than one might expect.
Likewise, amongst the mentshn, the Russians, Lithuanians, Poles, Ukrainians, Tatars, Romanians, and even the Yidden often live side by side. They meet in markets and taverns. They brush up against each other, generally without fully understanding one another, similar to the way cats and mentshn interact. When a cat has an unexpected interaction with a human, one never knows if one will be greeted with a petting and a treat or with a swift kick and maybe something worse. A cat's life in this world seems to be quite similar to that of the Yidden amongst the nations.
So, to learn how my Great, Great (multiplied by a large number) Grandmother Mruczek came to live with the Wallachian peasant Alexei, I suppose we first need to examine how a young peasant came to own a house as well as a wagon and horses. For this, we need to rely on what she overheard from mentshn which is not as reliable as information directly from a cat. Mentshn, I am sorry to say, have a tendency to embellish.
And, it seems that Alexei’s good fortunes stem from a somewhat unintentional good deed by his father Georgi when Georgi was quite young and a shepherd boy.
In those days, it was not uncommon for young peasant boys to be given a significant amount of responsibilities over the herds. The herds would wander great distances, verst after verst, fattening themselves for the eventual slaughter that is their fate. The boys would supervise the herds, days and nights for weeks on end. No one supervised the boys. The children were unschooled and largely lacking in any moral upbringing as well, motivated more by self interest rather than social standards.
At that time the Lamedvovniks, the secret society of Righteous Men, was very active in smuggling Holy Books throughout the Russian Empire. This enterprise would, on occasion, call for a Lamedvovnik to hide books in a secret rendezvous spot, a remote location away from centers of human habitation, to be retrieved later by another member of the association.
So it was that Yisrael Ben Eliezer was on such a secret mission. This was before he had revealed himself to be the Baal Shem Tov. He was just one of the 36 Lamedvovniks disguised as a common wanderer among the Yidden of the Russian Empire. Yisrael Ben Eliezer placed a bundle of books carefully hidden in the predesignated location.
Georgi, who was on his own, unsupervised, with nothing but time on his hands, happened to see Yisrael Ben Eliezer at work, a Yid, oddly dressed as far as an unworldly Wallachian peasant boy was concerned. Georgi reasonably assumed that a great treasure was being hidden, perhaps a vast stolen wealth of money, gold, and jewelry. After Yisrael left the bundle unattended, Georgi circled around to acquire it for himself.
Young Georgi untied the bundle and stared without comprehension at the strangeness of the hidden treasure. He knew almost nothing of books, in general. The letters in these particular books he had certainly never seen, as they were written in Lashon HaKodesh and not Cyrillic. He felt almost as if he had been tricked, unearthing a treasure with no particular value. And then, Georgi felt a large hand on his shoulder. He turned in trepidation to see the bearded face of Yisrael Ben Eliezer looking down at him. Georgi considered running but he was being firmly held in the grip of this mysterious Yid. He surely, at this point, expected a beating because the life of a peasant child was harsh like that.
But, looking into the kindly eyes of the Baal Shem Tov, Georgi perceived that a beating might not be his fate. The strange bearded man pulled Georgi into his arms in a bear hug and whispered into his ear, speaking fluently in Romanian, Georgi's Mother Tongue.
“You have indeed found a treasure, but not one that you can immediately spend. This bundle has no monetary value and yet it is of great value for the entire world, greater than diamonds or gold.”
“Now, listen carefully, for this you must do. It is your task to guard this bundle of Holy Books. In two or three days another man, with a beard like mine and dressed like I am will arrive. You will assure that he gets the bundle and that these books are protected and secure until he does so.”
When Reb Yisrael finished saying this, he placed his hands on the boy's head and muttered words in the Loshen HaKodesh before speaking again to the boy.
“I am going to give you a coin now. When my comrade arrives, he will also give you one. Understand that if you fulfill my instructions, you will be blessed and your descendents will also be blessed, in your honor for this service.”
Yisrael Ben Eliezer pressed a coin into the palm of the shepherd boy. The coin was nearly the equivalent of what he would earn as a shepherd for the entire season. Georgi's life had been unquestionably altered by a chance encounter with the Baal Shem Tov.
Georgi went on to live the life of a fairly typical peasant, we can suppose. He worked hard, on and off. He drank when drink was available. He brawled on occasion in the taverns and the alleyways, as peasants might be inclined. And, of course, he periodically lusted after peasant girls. So, at a young age he married one of these and she bore him a son whom they christened Alexei.
We do not know what became of Georgi or his bride. The lives of peasants were generally short, difficult, and without much significance. However, he did have more than his share of luck at times and managed to acquire a small house as well as a wagon and a couple of decent horses. And these came, in due time, to be the inheritance of Alexei.
And, this is where Alexei was living when my Great, Great (multiplied by a large number) Grandmother Mruczek found the smell of food wafting from an open doorway of a modest dwelling in a backwards corner of the Russian Empire. And, here she chose to linger and meow at the threshold until Alexei invited her in. And here she decided that this was where she would stay.
Now, you need to understand that cats, on the whole, like to sleep around eighteen hours a day. Telling all of this to Yankl has taken a great deal out of me. It is time for me to enjoy a sardine or two and then settle into a cat nap.
Perhaps tomorrow, I will tell you about how Alexei became the Baal Shem Tov’s driver and some of their adventures.
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