The Cat (from The River TAO, A Ladies of the Island Adventure)

I am now the cat. Before the baby arrived, I was the prince, honey bunny, purr bear,

mama’s little darling, you know how it goes. I’m now the cat. Did you feed the cat?

Where’s the cat? Did you let the cat out? Did you call the vet about the cat? I know

they should’ve called the vet so the vet could explain the difference between crap in

a can and homemade gourmet. I mean, they used to know the difference, would

brag about it to the guests. Now I’m lucky if they scoop the goop out of the can into

a dish. And don’t even ask me about the sanitary arrangements.

I decided to take the matter into my own paws and left. They can have their baby.

They can sing it to sleep all they want, dress it up and parade it around. Let ‘em.

When it starts to holler all night long and they don’t sleep for nights on end and all

they want is something soft, warm and purring to hold, let them open the front

door and call my name out into the darkness. Let them call the cat!

It was tough going for a while, but I managed. Turns out my hunting skills kicked

in, so I didn’t starve and I adapted quickly to the taste. I have found that the

general readership has no ear for the culinary details of a street cat, so I will spare

you the in-depth study of my diet. Suffice it to say, I survived, and became sleek

and shiny in the doing.

Surprisingly, I missed my humans. They were kind folk who treated me well, and

I wasn’t going to hold it against them for paying attention to the baby. That thing

smelled funny and made odd noises, but it was soft. My humans had probably said

the same thing about me.

I wandered into a bad neighborhood one night and met up with some mean cats

who beat me up and chased me. We made quite a racket, and a few humans yelled

and turned the hose on us. We all made a run for it. I had no idea where I was

and kept running until I was too tired to run anymore. It was a warm night and

there was a soft breeze. I remember because my paws were bloody, and when I

finally collapsed inside an empty pail, I said to myself it could’ve been worse, it

could’ve been winter, but the air was warm and I could see a few stars.

The next thing I remember is an angry shout and being flung through the air. I

think I scared that poor woman who picked up the pail and saw me in it clear

through to the next universe. I think she thought I was dead. I probably looked

dead, what with bloody paws and being at the bottom of a bucket, but she didn’t

bother to figure out if I was dead or alive, just hollered and flung me away.

I was thrown into a river. The very idea. What’s a cat supposed to do in a river?

I was not given swimming lessons as a kitten so had no idea what to do except

what came naturally, which was to keep my head up and my legs moving fast.

The experience was shocking. It wasn’t like I had gone to the pool for a quick

dip on a hot day. No, I was tired and my paws hurt, not to mention my feelings,

and I had been given an unceremonious heave ho. As I paddled for my life, I

began to wish I had penned a will.

I lagged and gasped for air, my blurry eyes straining to see a mysterious small

white light in the distance that began to come at me with some bit of speed,

when all of a sudden I was scooped up into a net, fished out of the river like a

salmon. I was not quite myself as I was laid out on the deck and peered at and

poked and prodded for a sign of life. I must’ve looked awful, splayed out like a

slimy dead thing. I remember noise and happy shouts when I began to cough

up water.

I was bathed and dried and cooed over for hours. I had died and gone to

Heaven. My new home was Heaven. It was a boat, but it was a heavenly boat.

I’d adjust. Having been rescued from the jaws of death, I was willing to forego

nitpicking . . . for once . . . for a few minutes . . . it took a couple hours. It was

like NEED TUNA was tattooed on my forehead because in the morning there

it was in a glass dish, with all the oil, and a saucer of milk right next to it. Not

only that morning, but every morning for a week.

I was combed and petted, and all it took was a flick of my tail to be left alone,

until mealtime when I was served more tuna and milk and cream and ice

cream and all kinds of delectables. I became a fat, happy cat living the life of

Riley on a boat.

The woman who flung me into the river should be canonized.