The cat was there every morning, not always in the same place, but somewhere along my three block walk to the bus stop. One day it would be on the front step or sidewalk of some random one of the houses that were set back from the sidewalk. On another day it would be sitting on the trunk of a car parked in one or another of the driveways. Some days, the cat would approach to within a dozen feet, and would walk a path parallel to mine. Some others it would walk a zig-zag path on the sidewalk ahead of me, looking over its shoulders at me each time it turned, on others it would follow loosely along behind until I was near the bus stop sign. Always, it would talk to me as we walked or as I passed it by.
I didn’t know if the cat was male or female. I had never been close enough to see through the thickness of its very long hair. Its coat was dark gray, it had white paws and a white star above its eyes, and would have been luxurious if it had been brushed every day. My best guestimate was that the cat was a solid thirteen to fifteen pounds, well-fed and in good condition, slightly unkempt, as if it only groomed when bored, or when its coat was in serious need of it.
Our conversations were limited, on my part, to greetings and good wishes, and brief monologues about my upcoming day. The first time I noticed the cat speaking to me, I was walking and daydreaming when the phrase “Hey you!” caught my attention. I stopped and looked around, but there was no nearby human to be seen. I thought it might have been something I imagined, for a moment, before I noticed the cat sitting in the shade of a lilac bush. As soon as we made eye contact it rose to all fours and spoke again. This time I was paying attention, and this time I heard, “Mee-ay-ayoo.” Hmm. An odd sound, it was. I asked the cat why it was yelling at me, and it just mumbled something that I was unable to interpret. I turned and walked on to catch my ride to work.
The tone and pattern of our relationship had been set, and we grew comfortable with it, though I never did learn to interpret its language. Now, this week, a little more than two months after our introduction, the cat began showing up as I was walking home from the bus stop in the afternoon. Today was no different, it yelled its usual greeting from behind the newspaper vending box at the corner as I was crossing the street. When I stepped from street to sidewalk it was right there, just a few feet away. We were closer than we’d ever been to each other. After a brief hesitation I walked on, and the cat fell in stride right alongside me on the sidewalk. We stayed that way all the way to the walk leading to the front door of my duplex rental.
I turned toward my door, and the cat yelled again, louder this time. When I turned to look, the cat also turned, and as it began to walk away it flipped its tail in what looked exactly like a gesture to follow along, so I did so. We walked that way, the cat moseying as cats do, and me trailing dutifully along behind. Eventually, we reached the line of tall shrubs that surrounded a neighborhood park, a block or so from my place. The cat found a small gap in the hedge and slipped through, I followed with some effort, acquiring a few arm and facial scratches, as I pushed through. I stepped into a small, shaded area of groomed lawn between mature maple and ash trees. I watched the cat sniff around the bases of the trees, until it came back around, made direct eye contact with me, and sat down right in front of me. I leaned forward on the balls of my feet, anticipating, without knowing what I was anticipating. The cat opened its mouth, as if to speak.
“Meow” was all that it said, this time. Then, after an indifferent sort of snort, it began grooming itself with speed and intensity, completely ignoring my presence. I felt that I was being dismissed, after having been tested.
I still wonder, sometimes, did I pass or did I fail?
Kevin R. Carr (2022)
About 760 Words
Our conversations were limited, on my part, to greetings and good wishes, and brief monologues about my upcoming day. The first time I noticed the cat speaking to me, I was walking and daydreaming when the phrase “Hey you!” caught my attention. I stopped and looked around, but there was no nearby human to be seen. I thought it might have been something I imagined, for a moment, before I noticed the cat sitting in the shade of a lilac bush. As soon as we made eye contact it rose to all fours and spoke again. This time I was paying attention, and this time I heard, “Mee-ay-ayoo.” Hmm. An odd sound, it was. I asked the cat why it was yelling at me, and it just mumbled something that I was unable to interpret. I turned and walked on to catch my ride to work.
The tone and pattern of our relationship had been set, and we grew comfortable with it, though I never did learn to interpret its language. Now, this week, a little more than two months after our introduction, the cat began showing up as I was walking home from the bus stop in the afternoon. Today was no different, it yelled its usual greeting from behind the newspaper vending box at the corner as I was crossing the street. When I stepped from street to sidewalk it was right there, just a few feet away. We were closer than we’d ever been to each other. After a brief hesitation I walked on, and the cat fell in stride right alongside me on the sidewalk. We stayed that way all the way to the walk leading to the front door of my duplex rental.
I turned toward my door, and the cat yelled again, louder this time. When I turned to look, the cat also turned, and as it began to walk away it flipped its tail in what looked exactly like a gesture to follow along, so I did so. We walked that way, the cat moseying as cats do, and me trailing dutifully along behind. Eventually, we reached the line of tall shrubs that surrounded a neighborhood park, a block or so from my place. The cat found a small gap in the hedge and slipped through, I followed with some effort, acquiring a few arm and facial scratches, as I pushed through. I stepped into a small, shaded area of groomed lawn between mature maple and ash trees. I watched the cat sniff around the bases of the trees, until it came back around, made direct eye contact with me, and sat down right in front of me. I leaned forward on the balls of my feet, anticipating, without knowing what I was anticipating. The cat opened its mouth, as if to speak.
“Meow” was all that it said, this time. Then, after an indifferent sort of snort, it began grooming itself with speed and intensity, completely ignoring my presence. I felt that I was being dismissed, after having been tested.
I still wonder, sometimes, did I pass or did I fail?
Kevin R. Carr (2022)
About 760 Words
RSS Feed
