January 15

Cleanliness and Organization were the farthest things from Tammoes’ mind—if indeed he had a mind.  He definitely did not have eyes in his deformed head.  As a kitten, he’d suffered some calamitous injury and his damaged skull had never grown, outside or in. He was plagued by misdirections and trancelike states that made him pace ceaselessly in circles.  He trilled in eerie rhythms. 

Even Beamer’s best efforts could not find Tammoes a home. One attempt had almost worked: old Patricia Shawl, the Buell librarian, had taken Tammoes under her wing, but he’d disdained all her attempts at house training.  He ignored the litter box and chewed on the furniture.  He liked cuddling, trilling wildly, but would then collapse into a retching cough: “Huh-uh-uh-uh-ACCK!”–and jerk out of the librarian’s arms.  His mindless circling caused him to crash into tables, walls, and Miss Shawl herself. His dull coat fell out in nasty clumps all over her apartment.  Even these impediments to domesticity might have been overcome if Tammoes had been willing, but he was too queer.

His abnormal brain, broken even before his injury, worked in such bizarre ways he was nowhere happier than roaming the mountains of trash and garbage at Shenango Refuse—particularly during violent electrical storms.

 Most animals would normally shun such a weird being.  However, all sorts of creatures traveled to the dump seeking out this freaky feline—because Tammoes possessed the Power of Prognostication.

Balmy fall days, spring rainstorms, bitter winter mornings and summer afternoons all found pilgrims making their way to the dump, desiring enlightenment.  Enduring the garbage stench was the price for gaining Tammoes’ insight, though it was possible to return home disappointed; sometimes nothing at all was dispensed from the cracked black brain. For his part, Tammoes was content with his circumstances and maybe that was his greatest achievement. 

Today, January Thaw was waning and electrical currents in both the atmosphere and Tammoes’ head had combined in a Vision.  Cor was dispatched to warn the Community that a blizzard was descending upon Shenango more serious than any recorded for a decade.  

Some perceptive people had noted unusual activity among the animals, but most of the populace—including local TV weathermen—were unaware of the impending snowstorm. Soon everyone would be panicking, preparing to mount a battle against nature’s power instead of simply experiencing it.

As worried humans hid in their homes, Tammoes stood on a rotting pile of Golden Apple debris, his misshapen nose tilted toward the descending green sky, ecstatic in the electrically charged air.