Tuesday, December 2, 2008

This Post Is for Bob

I miss my cat Bob terribly tonight. Little bunny nose mister. I miss you ... and will always love you more than worlds and universes multiplied. I wish I could be with you, wherever you are. Here is a story. I can't seem to comprehend how writing this helped me stop crying, but somehow...

Tale of a Cat

Junior stood in front of the cupboards. It was 3 a.m. and he wanted some crackers. The sky was deep navy and the kitchen was a soft blue with light from the moon reflected snow. He lifted his left arm to reach for the cupboard edge. If he pulled it open slowly enough he might not make a sound. As his short fingers felt for the handle and pulled it open, a small bag of mints tumbled onto the counter top. The plastic wrapping of the candies roused the dog in the other room and almost as soon as he heard the dog, he heard his mother turn in bed.


"Darling, what are you doing?"
He heard her groggy voice. She sounded concerned, but he could sense an undercurrent of frustration. Junior pushed the candies toward the back of the breadbox. He didn't want her mints, he was going for the crackers.
"I wanted some crackers." The dog Wayne heavily laid back down, this time by Juniors stocking feet.
"And you can't wait til breakfast? Junior it's God knows how early."
"It's only 3. I know. I couldn't sleep."
"Can you please explain to me why you left your karate Gi in the truck last night? Sweetheart I didn't have a chance to wash it."
"I told you I have another Gi in my closet."
"You don't fit into that one anymore Junior. I really wish you'd just ... be more aware."
"I will!" Junior was feeling tired now. He didn't feel up for defending himself. He was upset and he wanted her to understand that.
His mother rubbed her eyes and felt around for the stool's edge. She didn't turn on the kitchen light. She and Junior just stood there, just enough light to make each other out by their movements.

"I miss Biscuit." Junior lowered his head. He felt heavier than usual. His eyes began to close shut as he swept the loose part of his sock over Wayne's paws.
"I know sweetheart. I know." His mother had said this so many times before, that it had almost negative resonance to him.
"No, you don't." He thought about those crackers again. He tried to sense where his mother's hands were. What she was doing in the dark.
"Oh Junior, baby. Don't say that. Why would you say that?"
"You didn't know Biscuit like I did. That's why. Dad didn't either. But he understood her more than you ever did. You didn't even like her. You never liked cats and I can't believe I ever trusted you." Junior was terrified suddenly. Of everything around him. His house felt cold and he didn't like the kitchen and how it smelled. He felt alone, even with his mother right there.
"Biscuit ran away, Junior. That's all. No one can do anything to bring her back."
"I hate the way you talk." He always knew his mother didn't know how to grieve. "I don't even like you anymore."
"But listen honey, we can talk about this tomorrow. Okay? You and I need r ..."

Junior interrupts her here. He tells his mother that he doesn't want to rest, and that he is and always was the only one that truly cared about Biscuit. How if she ever returned, he would be there for her and his life would be just like it was before, as if she'd never been away from him. He told his mother about Biscuit's favorite hideaway place, and how he checked there every day since the day she turned up missing. How, even in the fresh snow, he'd go to her hiding spot to leave cat food, or pancake batter if on a Sunday morning. His mother stood there in the dark leaning against the kitchen counter, motionless as far as he could tell. He could hear her breathing shallow breaths, every now and again.

Junior began to cry ...

1 comment:

K. Grace said...

"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened." -Anatole France