Cat v. World

By Jo Douglas

It is still dark out. I sit up and stretch myself out, ready to begin a new day. I leap off the bed and go to find sustenance. The bowl is empty, and that will not do. I sit and stare for a few moments before turning back to the bed, where mom sleeps like a rock. She is apt to starve me, apparently.

I hop on the bed and paw at her face. It takes a few minutes before she seems to wake up, but even then she turns away and ignores me. So be it. I jump over her and paw at her face again. Finally, after a few moments of this, she gets out of bed and pours some food into my bowl. I am pleased. I take a few nibbles before going to rest beside mom.

…

Mom wakes up, rolls over on her back and looks at her glowing rectangle. She will leave soon, but I do not want her to. I climb onto her chest and she smiles and pets me and rubs my ears. Yes, I plead, stay in bed and just pet me. But the moment ends as she lifts me up and begins her own day, apart from me. I watch her as she scrambles around. When she is done, she kisses me on my head and tells me she loves me. I am her sweet baby, and she will be back. Until then, I make myself a comfortable spot on the bed and sleep.

…

I wake up to the door squeaking open. Mom is home! I keep my eyes on her as she enters, goes to a drawer, and pulls out… oh, no. I sit up, preparing my escape – but mom has already caught me. She puts the dreaded harness on me: the one that means I must leave this room. I love exploring, but the outside has too many smells. Oblivious (or willfully ignorant) to my concerns, she picks me up and we begin the journey.

We go down some stairs and out through a door. She finds a spot nearby and sits me down. I lay down flat and look around: my first task is to investigate the surroundings. I am outside. There is grass. I am hungry. I nibble the grass, prowl around, nibble some more. Mom follows me: she sits when I stop, walks while I explore and pats my head when I look up to her. This is tortuous – but mom’s company makes it slightly better.

When we arrive home (at last!), I make a dash for the entrance. Mom says I did a good job and opens the door for me. She nearly trips over her feet following my sprint to the stairs: a fitting punishment! All that truly matters is returning to my territory, where I can eat and sleep and run and prowl in peace. Mom peppers my face in (unnecessary) kisses. I find a spot to take a nap.

…

Mom returns once more! She fills my bowl with dinner, which I have been waiting for since breakfast. I devour what I can before growing bored and wandering away. Mom entertains me: she directs a small red dot for me to chase, she cradles me in her arms and pets me, she talks to me and I walk around our room. Evenings are my favorite: mom’s full attention is on me! There is nothing better than this – except perhaps a second dinner.

…

It is bedtime. I can tell because the light is off, mom is under her blankets and no light comes through the window. Tonight, I think I want to sleep beside mom. I leap onto the bed and find a spot in the crook of her knees, right where they bend. Together, we rest so that we can be prepared for another day. There is much to do as a cat with a mom like mine.

Dear California