Читать книгу White Paws and Brownie - Eva Demoore - Страница 4

Soon White Paws started to think about a name for the brownie. It seemed to White Paws that it was wrong to call the brownie Brownie.

So one day he said to the brownie, “I wonder, what name do you want to have?”

“I have one already,” said the brownie.

“But Brownie isn’t a name,” objected White Paws.

“Why do you think so?” asked the brownie very much surprised.

“Because Brownie is just a brownie,” replied White Paws. “But there should be another name too.”

“What do you mean?” asked the brownie again.

White Paws began to explain. “You see, everyone has a name in our family, even Rexy. I am a cat and my name is White Paws. Ervin is a small boy and his name is Ervin. Alex is a big boy and his name is Alex. Mum is a woman and so her name is Mum. Dad is a man and his name is Dad. And you are the only one without a name,” he finished and looked at the brownie.

The brownie kept silence. He kept silence for the whole day. And in the evening when they went to the kitchen, the brownie asked suddenly, “And why do they call you White Paws? How is it possible to call someone absolutely black, White Paws? They’d better call you just Cat. Why don’t they?”

“Because cats just like everybody else, must have names. My name is White Paws due to one accident which happened the first day Alex brought me home.” He kept silence for a while trying to recollect the details of the day. And then began, “When I was very little Alex found me somewhere and brought me here. I remember a jar with something white inside. I thought it was soured cream and when nobody was looking I put my front paws inside the jar to eat some soured cream. I was very much surprised when I discovered that I didn’t like its taste. And at the very moment when I was trying to understand if it was eatable at all, Alex came back into the room and saw me with my two front paws inside the jar. I was so confused that I overturned the jar and spilt the stuff I was trying. I stood in the middle of the stuff and the family looked at me. And, when they took me out of the stuff, all my four paws were as white as soured cream. Only it wasn’t soured cream. Later I learnt that the stuff in the jar was called paint. So you see, even the stuff has a name.” He kept silence for a while, then, went on, “Everybody laughed. Only I didn’t. Since then they call me White Paws.”

“Oh, I see,” said the brownie. “But why do they call Ervin that way?” he asked in a minute.

“I don’t know,” confessed the cat. “And I think nobody knows, because they never say why they named him Ervin. May be, his name is connected with some mystery,” he suggested after thinking a little.

“And what about Alex?” asked the brownie, for he really became interested in names.

“Alex is a very special name,” explained the cat. “It means someone is a very good boy. So, if your name is Alex you know you are a very good boy.”

The brownie was a little bit upset. He expected to hear some stunning story. And the cat’s explanation was so simple.

“But why do you call dad Dad? And why do you call mum Mum?” inquired the brownie.

“So it should be,” answered the cat.

“Then my name is Brownie. So it should be,” pronounced the brownie with a smile, for he loved that name very much. And he didn’t want anyone to call him otherwise.