When I was in elementary school, a cat with several newborn kittens
turned up in the storm well one night. One of the employees took her in,
and while the kittens eventually moved on to other homes, the mother,
dubbed Stormy, stayed. She spent most of her time in quiet spots like
the parlor or the chapel, but if the classroom doors were open, we never
knew when she might pop by for a visit. We all agreed that it was
pretty cool that our school had its very own cat.
I've been thinking about Stormy lately because I just read Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World,
written by head librarian Vicki Myron with the help of Bret Witter. My
grandma read this book last year and, knowing what a sucker I am for a
good animal story, she heartily recommended it. It took me a while to
get around to it, but I picked it up from my own (sadly catless) library
a few weeks ago and delved into the story of this unusual feline.
While Stormy had short hair and was gray with white patches, Dewey was a
long-haired orange tabby. Every chapter includes a black-and-white
photo of the cat in various positions around the library, but the cover
features Dewey in full color. His coat looks so fluffy I have to fight
the impulse to reach over and stroke his fur, and he sits in a dignified
position, amber eyes gazing placidly out at the world. Dewey came to
the library via a book drop when he was only a few weeks old, and the
scraggly waif seemed unlikely to pull through at first, but as he
battled through those first difficult days, he won the hearts of the
library staff, especially Myron, who championed the idea of him
remaining as a library mascot.
This book chronicles Dewey's
life from his startling late-night arrival at the library in Spencer,
Iowa, in January of 1988 to his death at the ripe old age of 19. Over
the course of 27 chapters, Myron spills out her life story along with
Dewey's and also provides ample background on the history of her little
town and its hardscrabble residents. For those reading purely out of
interest in the cat, it may be a tad tiresome to go for a chapter or two
at a time with only a cursory mention of him. But Dewey's story is
inextricably linked with Myron's, and both are tied in with the legacy
of the city, so these side trips are generally rewarding, and I suspect
that's especially the case for those who knew Dewey first-hand.
The book has a folksy, down-to-earth style that often gives off the
impression of a neighbor standing outside, chatting over the fence.
Myron tends to repeat herself, simply because there are only so many
ways to emphasize that Dewey was an extraordinary cat and that he
changed many lives, especially in Spencer. I get the sense that this is
mostly her, with Witter smoothing out the edges of her writing and
helping it take narrative shape.
Myron obviously is no impartial
observer, and her air of maternal pride is so strong that I imagine her
driving around town with a bumper sticker reading "My Cat Is an Honor
Student at..." Well, no, not quite that, but you get the idea. So it's
easy to chalk some of her reflections up to typical pet owner's pride.
Nonetheless, people traveled from all over the country, and sometimes
even overseas, to see Dewey, and dozens of publications ran articles
about him. So it's pretty clear that there was, indeed, something
special about him. Above all else, Dewey was gregarious, always right in
the thick of things, making his presence known to library patrons and
brightening the days of cat lovers of all ages, even if they didn't
realize they were cat lovers until he turned up.
Dewey
is the story of a cat and a community, and of the librarian who dearly
loved both. If you've ever wished for a feline companion to help you
browse through the bookshelves, chances are you'll find the story of
Dewey just purr-fect.
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