The Spy

Eight year old Hannah was in her happy place, sitting upon the deep leather couch between her mother and father, watching television.  A smile graced the young brunette's face.  Like most children, she loved television, but watching the shows that daddy liked was a special treat. 

Cartoons are great, thought Hannah, but watching old tv is better.  The phrase old tv referring to the black and white television show they were currently watching.  Daddy introduced her to a channel called MyRetroTV, she did not know what retro meant, but she loved being introduced to new ideas, the television show they were currently watching challenged her in this way.  She loved the theme song that played, sounding mysterious and totally different from the happy music on the channels she was allowed to watch.

As soon Get Smart began, Hannah had questions.  She felt great comfort with her parents, being able to ask any question she had.  They were always patient with her and always took the time to make sure she understood.  "Daddy," she tugged on his sweats, "what's a spy?"

Her father hit pause on the television show, giving her all of his attention.  "A spy is someone that collects information about someone else."  He considered his answer, knowing he needed to tell her more.  "You understand that there are good people and bad people in the world, right?"

"Yes."  She responded, not understanding what that had to do with her questions.

"Well," he tried to speak in a manner that allowed her to understand, "when bad people want to know what the good people are up to, sometimes a bad person will dress up like a good person, pretend to be like them and spy on them.  That means get information secretly about them."  He knew he was not doing a good job.

Mommy added something that helped Hannah to understand.  "Sweetheart," she said, "have you ever snuck up on mommy and daddy and listened to what we were talking about?"

Embarrassingly, she replied, "yes."

"Well," mommy continued, "when you're listening to us without us knowing, that's spying."

Hannah, seemingly happy with that explanation, sat up straight in the couch, her short legs spread out before her.  "Okay."  She nudged her father.  "Press play."

After watching an episode of Get Smart the young lady was put to bed.  Her mind continued thinking of the episode well into the night.  Wondering about  Maxwell Smart, also known as Agent 86, and how he clumsily recovered the information that was needed, reporting back to CONTROL on a telephone that was in his shoe.  Hannah's mind swam with the possibilities.  As sleep overtook her, she wondered if such a world could possibly exist?  Good guys.  Bad guys.  Camera's in neck ties.  Smoke bombs in the heel of shoes.  The television show followed her into her dreams.

Hannah woke earlier than normal, partially with excitement that her grandmother was coming to visit with her today, as mommy and daddy went to work and in-part because she was still considering the world of Max Smart.  Doing that which she was not supposed to do, she exited her bedroom and went downstairs and sat in her position on the couch.

The little girl considered that there were bad people out there, people that spied on other people and had fantastical gadgets to get the information that they wanted.

Looking at the large back window, the sun beginning to fill the large sky, she saw something move out of the corner of her eye.  Deep within her own thoughts of spies, she jumped, as her eyes went to the location of the disturbance.  In the back corner of the room, next to the large television under the end table were two eyes staring at her.  Immediately she applied her former thoughts to the intruder that was observing her.  Her eyebrow lifted upon her face, considering that she was being spied upon.  A smile erupting on her face.  She spoke in the direction of that which viewed her.  "Max Smart said that spies always wear gloves to hide who they are, so they wont be caught."  She raised her arm and pointed.  "You always have white gloves on!"

As her mind raced with details, associating the newfound information she learned from the television show with the spy, she struggled with the details.

As her brow furrowed, Nittany the cat raced from beneath the end table, around the corner and to the stairway.  Hannah jumped up, wanting more information, maybe the spy was going to report her findings to CONTROL.  "I don't even know what that is?"

Walking on her tippie toes toward the stairway, she turned and quietly viewed Nittany. 

The feline took her time making it up the long stairway, rubbing up against the the banister, scratching her back, stopping to rub her claws against the carpet.  Hearing something, the secret agent quickly turned back and glanced at Hannah.

Hannah jumped backwards, hoping that she wasn't seen.  Certainly the spy would report her to whomever she was sending information to.

As if detected, the cat jumped, taking three long steps to clear the stairway and was suddenly no longer in the girls view.

As quietly as possible, not worried about her parents knowing that she was awake, trying to detect what the spy was doing, she ran up the stairs.  When she reached the top, uncertain what she would find, the cat darted into the bathroom.

It was Hannah's turn to do the spying.  She crept up to the door, careful not to reveal that she was watching, tilting her head so that she could see Nittany.  "Ah ha!"  She said quietly to herself, as she watched the cat doing what feline's do in the kitty litter box.  "Even when they go to the bathroom, they bury it so that no one knows what they're doing!"  Knowing that the cat did not like being in the small bathroom, except for that purpose, the young sleuth hid behind an open door, waiting for the spy to make her exit. Hannah secretly hope that Nittany would not pull a smoke bomb out of her glove, thus hiding her retreat.

Hannah watched with great interest.  There was no smoke bomb, no telephone calls through a neck tie and, thus, no calls to CONTROL reporting her.  The cat did do something very interesting though.  Lounging at the entrance of the bathroom, partially in the hallway, the young lady observed the spy lounging and taking an excessive amount of time licking its paws, cleaning her gloves.  Hannah wondered if maybe her claws broke through the gloves and perhaps the spy was worried that she was leaving finger prints.  Worried she would be discovered as a spy and not be able to report her findings.

Nittany's eyes diverted from her gloves, suddenly looking directly at Hannah.

The little girl gasped, stepping back so as not to be discovered doing her own spying.  Changing her vantage point, heart racing, she got down on her knees, from behind the door she peered back at the cat, who  was now back at the routine of cleaning her finger prints with her tongue.  "Whew!"  Hannah whispered.  "That was close."

"What are you doing?"  Mother asked from the other end of the hallway.

Hannah jumped, letting out a small scream.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," her mother stated mattter-of-factly, "but what are you doing?

Looking up at her mother with the innocence of an eight year old, Hannah reported, "I'm spying on Nittany.  Me thinks she's a spy and I want to know how she's telling CONTROL on us."

The two females laughed aloud.