Playing the Cat Whistle

My mom, my two brothers, two sisters and myself had made the big time. The oldest of us had good jobs and we even were paying on a little house in Atlanta. We boys were in our late teens, early 20's (as the oldest I had left our little town and gone to work in Atlanta right out of the 11th grade, finishing high school at night, the advance guard of the Breeds who invaded Atlanta). My sisters were around 16 and 10 at the time of this story.

It seems that Ginny, the older of my two sisters, had an unexpected talent. One early evening when she was about to go on a date (and her preparing for a date was always an ordeal with only one bathroom and three brothers in the house -- Hours! Days! Years! she would stay in that bathroom!), she and her new beau were about to go out the door. Like all of us at that tender teen age, extreme self-consciousness was the norm. She had made it safely thus far -- her brothers behaving themselves with reasonable decorum. It was the cat that did her in.

The cat had decided it needed to go out at the exact time that Ginny and her date were making their desperate escape from her family's penetrating gaze. Ginny picked it up wrong-end forward and turned for all three to go. As the cat's butt arc swung round and past Ginny's young man, it let out a loud high toot. Of course, we three boys fell all over ourselves. From then on, we let the news be known far and wide. Our sister had hidden talent -- she was the only one we knew who could play the Cat Whistle. Of course, I would never tell anyone about that today.