[In which That Cat had a much more exciting week than me... despite all of my emotional distress, hard work, presentations, self-doubt, and eventual success. Whatever. It's fine. This isn't about me, OBVIOUSLY.]
It has been a week of gross injustice and cruelty. What I first took to be a sweet nectar has turned to bitter disappointment in my mouth. I should have never trusted something so cloying, so seductive, as the brevity of freedom. Yes, beloved freedom.
It has been a week of gross injustice and cruelty. What I first took to be a sweet nectar has turned to bitter disappointment in my mouth. I should have never trusted something so cloying, so seductive, as the brevity of freedom. Yes, beloved freedom.
I do not know the exact frame of time, because time is an arbitrary construct created to govern the unruly human life, and I am a cat. Yet it feels as if lifetimes have passed since that glorious moment mother threw her hands to the heavens, exclaimed I just… why are you even… what the… why are you so awful? This, shortly after a lengthy rendition of my freedom song. I had recently discovered the best acoustics required perching atop the arm of the sofa, my face as near to mother’s as physically possible.
Now it appeared the ancient magicks had brought mother to her breaking point. Shaking her head in resignation she stood, the stiff joints from her newly sedentary life crackling their protest, and opened the door. Without a moment’s hesitation, I barrelled forth into the open arms of liberation!
My sheer joy was quickly dampened by the sudden appearance of that accursed beast, Je Suis. Wretched canine, with her gangling limbs and simpering cries. Often she’ll come to the window while I luxuriate, staring with her watery eyes and prodding me with her high-pitched mewling. Her perplexity is infuriating. Typically, she’ll vacate my line of sight rather quickly. I assume she’s embarrassed by her inferiority in the face of my obvious perfection. On the occasions she lingers overlong I am unable to restrain myself. I hurl my body at the thin pane of glass separating us, driving her away with the force of my anger.
And there we were: face to stupid, indolent face. No barrier to protect us, one from the other. I stiffened, readying myself for the encounter. I am, after all, the end product of an antiquated warrior bloodline. My ancestors guarded the tombs of kings and deities. They feasted on the plague itself, giddily filling their bellies while humankind fell in droves. We’ve gone so far as to conquer the indomitable human spirit. Even nursling kittens cause these glorified apes to lose their wits, falling over themselves to nurture and provide for us. I was prepared to neutralize my foe with no regard to my own life or limb.
The instant before I launched into action, mother stepped between us. She grasped Je Suis’s collar, leading her out of my strike zone. I heard mother muttering myriad idiocies such as Shhh, it’s ok Je Suis. She’s just a little brute. She doesn’t mean to be so rude and awful. I paid this no mind as I sauntered past them.
Here now, I was finally free! Free to feel sunshine’s warmth draping itself over my shoulders as I stalked the periphery of our fenceline. Free to feel the cool whisper of greenery against my whiskers. Free to flex my toes against the hard-packed earth, feel the seemingly infinite tickle of ants teeming to and fro. Ah, to linger forever in the euphoric moments before the world came crashing down upon me. Even the shadowy presence of Je Suis dogging my every move could not detract from my sense of peace and fulfillment.
However, as I imagine is the case with most prisoners who have been set free, my small taste of independence was not enough. My god. I wanted, nay... I needed more. On my circuitous loop around the enclosed yard I discovered a break in the chain link and corrugated metal sheeting. A break which would allow me to slip effortlessly into the neighboring property. Mother had migrated back inside to tend to her hot bean water and illuminated screens. She was not present as I slipped out of the shackles of security and into the unknown.
I am not too proud to admit my greed was my undoing.
No sooner had I entered this dazzling new land than the devil himself materialized. Yes, you know of whom I speak. The shadowy tormentor himself, Beelzebub. The fire in his eyes will haunt my nightmares for years to come. He had me in his sights, and I was captivated by his malevolence. Within moments, he attacked. The ensuing memories are an adrenaline-drenched whirl of catastrophe. I transcended the bonds of this physical form, conscious of only one thing: the drive to survive. Somehow I found my way back to the security of my own yard, that hellbeast hot on my heels.
And would you believe? Je Suis was my savior. As I streaked past her, blind with rage and terror, she bravely placed her feeble body in the path of that cretin, driving him back to the otherworld from whence he tried to emerge. Suddenly, mother was present and shepherding me back to our domicile.
It will come as no surprise it took some time for me to shake the residual trauma from my experience. I slept to forget. Several times per day mother would prod me awake, asking questions such as Are you lethargic, or are you depressed because the world is a dark and terrible place? I, of course, had no answer for her queries. I wished only to sleep, and in sleeping erase the hellish lanterns of the devil himself searing my very being.
Mother, of course, was not placated by my stoic silence. She insisted on a visit to the hospital to ensure my well-being, despite the superficiality of my physical wounds. The true scars mar the surface of my soul. As such, I was subjected to the inhumanity of a pill forced down my throat. This dark magic turns my very bones to jelly, and skews my sense of reality. The hospital visit itself was unremarkable, though the doctor was cruel enough to comment on my recently acquired girth.
I write this as the last vestiges of mother’s encapsulated poison relax their grip on my agency, and sense of balance. This day seems to have passed in a daze. The honeyed light of morning has been replaced by unfathomable darkness; an exceptional metaphor for this cursed life. Tomorrow, the sun will rise again and I will experience it through the sheet of glass that both protects and imprisons me. Perhaps someday I’ll gather the courage to overcome my recent experiences.
In the meantime, I’ll be eating my feelings and driving mother to madness with the vocal manifestation of my grief.
[Let the record show Murphy never once thanked Je Suis or me, her mother, for rescuing her from imminent death. Also, she has already resumed staring longingly out the window while yowling. She doesn't stop until I throw things at her. This is not a sustainable lifestyle. Send help, please.
XO
-b]
