That damned cat.
By: Jonny Bolduc
Tags: Cats, Kittens

It is 3:35 a.m.

The kitten does not want to stop partying. The night is a party.

So many toes to pounce on, so many mason jars full of water to knock down on the sleeping heads of the humans.

There is no logical reason for the kitten to stop partying.

The humans have to work in the morning. It does not matter. The kitten is

not concerned with concepts like ‘working’. For the kitten the only goal, the only job, is to learn the many ways of being a cat.

The kitten is learning many things. How to purr, how to meow, how to manipulate the two humans and get fed twice, how to eat bugs and how to watch the shadows. That is the work, the job. And the kitten does not have to try to be good at his job. He is already excelling.

Evolution explains the kitten’s utter fascination with high places. When life

was scarier for cats everywhere the high places were a safe refuge from Scary.

The only thing more powerful than partying is the Scary. Loud noises. Bangs, crashes and barks. Things that reminded the kitten that life isn’t all bug eating and human scratching and purrs and pets. Things that would harm.

That is what the high corners and Small Dark Spaces are for.

Protection from the Scary.

But this morning it is dark and the headboard with the mason jars is the BEST place to be. There is still darkness in the sky out the half open window, and the night is worth experiencing in fullness.

Why do the humans sleep through the shadows and the dark? The kitten can

bound around the house, carrying on and carrying on, from shadow to shadow, darkness as a shield.

‘Why aren’t the humans awake? I want to PARTY,’ the kitten thinks.

The kitten decides it would be very fun and exciting to bat the full mason jar of water to the edge of the headboard, directly over the fat human’s head.

Slowly, gentle push of the paw after gentle push of the paw, the mason jar teeters over the edge.

It’s party time.

The mason jar careens directly onto the sleeping man’s forehead and soaks the bed.

The humans do not want to party. They reach for the spray bottle.

4:30 p.m.

The kitten is planning to break himself from the chains of tyranny. But first, he has to get his facts straight.

There are many types of water. There is the toilet water, which is fresh, and delicious. There is the water dripping form the faucet into the basin, which is also delicious. Even the water pooled up on the shower mat is a delicacy. And getting damp accessing that water is a small price to pay for decadence.

However. complications arise. Water inside of a spray bottle? That’s bad, right? No. It is the same stuff in the shower, the same stuff that condenses on the side of the toilet.

The toilet. What a wonderful thing. When the fat human uses the bathroom, the kitten perches in the closet adjacent to the throne and stares, transfixed by the beauty of

the porcelain thing which runs as if a stream is inside of it.

Nevermind the smell of the human. The scene is beautiful.

Why use the water to wash when the tongue will do the trick? And the fat human still smells like dirty socks, even after the shower. Humans would not survive a night in the wild darkness; they reek and their foul odor would betray them to a fisher cat or a bear or a lion.

But the kitten digressed. There is a problem to solve.

So. the spray bottle contains water, and being sprayed results in slight dampness, correct?

How different is the slight dampness from the bottle different from the slight dampness of sitting on a wet towel or pawing at the pooled water in the sink?

It’s not, thinks the kitten. These constraints, these mental boundaries were put in place by the humans to keep the kitten in place. The kitten wanted to climb the counters, explore the Foods, all the Foods, and the tyrannical humans kept the Foods in places guarded by the spray bottle.

But why should the kitten be kept in place, chained by his own fear of the spray bottle? Why should the kitten care about consequence? Why adhere to an unjust law? Why not jump on the counter? Why not do it in front of the human? Why not alert them

the kitten is bound by no human laws?

The kitten, gathering his courage, and leaps up onto the counter, directly on the cutting board, right in the chopped onions. The fat human bellowed, grabbed the spray bottle, and squirted the kitten.

Oh god, oh no, I am wet. The kitten thinks, scattering off the counter. How could the human be so cruel? No warning, just excessive, unjustified force? I am just a baby. I do not know what is right and wrong. I made a mistake, and I paid for it dearly. I hate these people, these humans and their unabashed cruelty.

4:35 p.m.

The kitten is, once again, for the 7th time today, planning to break himself from the chains of tyranny.

4:40 p.m.

Yup, tyranny and chains and stuff again. It’s not going well.

5 p.m.

Fine, tyranny. You win this time, the kitten thinks as he runs full speed into the living room to dismember and consume a moth. ‘I’ll try again in 15 minutes.”

6:40 p.m.

It’s not the humans fault he’s ugly, the kitten thinks, climbing up into the fat humans lap.

It’s not his fault he is large and lumbering and fat and smells like feet. It’s not his fault he is not small and furry and whiskered and agile and ever so fast, the kitten thinks as he begins to purr.

I love him despite his ugliness, despite his poor excuse for whiskers, his shabby beard, his inability to lick himself clean. He gives the best scratches under the neck. He is my ugly. By loving him, I am doing him a favor, the kitten thinks.

It’s not his fault he kicks me when I run in front of him on the stairs and it’s not his fault he kicks me and begins to fall, the kitten thinks as he stretches out, reaching towards the human as the

human begins to hit the spot between his ears. It’s not his fault he is so clumsy and giant and slow, unlike me. I am the fastest creature alive. I will prove it to the human by running across

his face at 4 a.m. He needs to learn how fast I am. Maybe if he practices he won’t be so slow and ugly…although I’m not sure if that will cure the ugly…

The kitten trails off as he falls asleep.

12:01 p.m.

The human has not been the same. He sleeps. So much.

The kitten knows he is not in a place to judge, as the kitten spends much time sleeping. But it is a different sleep. The kitten stretches out towards the sun, the kitten finds the warm spots where the sun heats up the blankets of the floor and the kitten embraces the light. The human, under the blanket, does not move, does not stretch, and sometimes even keeps his eyes open.

He is hiding from the light. The kitten can feel something like a sickness inside of the human; the human sleeps like cats sleep when they are sick, when they find the dark places and hide

and let the darkness heal them or usher them Away.

The human does not speak this morning. He does not respond to purrs, does not pet or scratch. He buries his head in between the pillows. He looks like he is going to cry.

The kitten knows he should just be. Just be there. That is the way to help. The kitten climbs the blankets and sits on the pillow next to the human. The kitten purrs. The human, with great effort, reaches over and begins to pet. The kitten keeps purring, like he always does.

The human is being saved.

Human;

There will come a day when you will miss me curling around your legs as you rise in the morning.

There will come a time when you will look into the moonless sky and see me darting from pool of dark to pool of dark. You will feel me hop up onto the bed.

There will come a time you will see me standing on every fencepost, in every corner. A thing will fall in the night and you will think

“that damn cat.”

And know that I have loved you. Know in my own way, that you were

the world to me. Know that in the night when I curled up perfectly in your

side or on your chest or on your face that it was perfect and that was perfection

and I meant every purr.

Know that in some way I am in every corner, on every fence post, in every moon and every moonless sky

and every time you think you see me I am there. Know that the day has come,

and there will be other days and other cats and other kittens and they won’t be the same but they will love you in their own way.

Maybe they will save you. Maybe you will pluck them from the bottom of a trash can and save them. Maybe they will form a pretzel cat on your chest during the

worst moments of all and maybe they will help you like I did. Maybe you humans will help them like you helped me.

I know in life I wasn’t a fan of other animals. I hissed at dogs, murdered woodland creatures and

no bird passed by without fearing for its life. But it is your duty to steward other kittens, raise them up, show them kindness. Because as I have said, the world left on its own is not kind for anyone, any creature large or small. I would not survive. You would not survive.

Know that I love you. Know that we had the best life. Know that I miss you. I know that you miss me.

Signed,

That damned cat.