We live in a
small yellow house in the trees. I like the house, and I like Piper. She is a
good human because she worries just the right amount. My water is always fresh
(not that I don’t drink from The Dog’s bowl anyway – it’s amusing) and my food
is better than the usual human pellets. Piper recognizes that cats have more
refined palettes than dogs.
I also like
Piper’s male, Jordan. He doesn’t live with us; he lives far away in a different
house with different cats. He visits once or twice a year, and I remember him
because he doesn’t mind when I sleep on the table. Piper always sighs and puts
me on my tower. She’s picky about her food, my human. Her male is less picky.
He lets me sniff his plate when he finishes eating, and sometimes forgets to
rinse out his cereal bowl. I have a fondness for raisin bran and milk. I also
like sandwich crusts and breaded shrimp.
Piper is a
writer. She and Jordan argue about it sometimes, because she doesn’t make a lot
of money and he is still in School. I understand that money means food, but
beyond that their arguments are boring. Piper doesn’t mind when I sleep on her
desk while she writes; the sound of her tapping lulls me. I am a champion
sleeper, except at night. There’s less light to hurt my eyes at night, and I hunt
The Dog and the curtains and my mouse. If Piper wasn’t so clean we might have
live mice to hunt.
I enjoy the
night. I have a small plastic door that lets me come and go as I choose, and I
often sit on the porch and watch the visitors in our yard. We have raccoons,
which are fastidious but not very polite; owls, who like to pounce almost as
much as I do; and deer. Piper hates deer, but she always makes sure the
birdbaths are filled before she goes to sleep. If she would let me patrol the
garden instead of keeping me on the porch, I would make sure the deer didn’t
eat her delphiniums.
Tonight is
the last night of Jordan’s summer visit. Piper was distracted during dinner,
and only filled my bowl halfway. I decided not to clean her hair while she read
as I usually do, but she and Jordan went to bed early and shut the door. Even
The Dog wasn’t allowed in.
It is cool
tonight. I sit on the porch table and watch the stars shine through the tree
branches. The wind smells extra fresh; I can scent the rabbit family sleeping
in their burrow under the rhododendron and the owl sitting in the tree above
them. The wind smells so good that it hardly seems worth enjoying from a wood
and screen box. I keep my claws sharp on the underside of the futon, and on my
tower. It takes a breath to cut a neat hole in the screen and I’m free.
The garden
is full of shadows and mystery – my favorite. Piper is a good human, but I’m
meant for more than a cushy, dry-food lifestyle. I want mouse tonight. I want
to challenge myself and catch a thrill.
I find a
mouse trail easily enough. Holding my weight in my shoulders I follow it
through the dry grass and leaf litter. Piper dislikes outside work and tends to
dump her old yard waste into the woods. Balanced on a fallen branch, I listen
with my mouth as well as my ears. I can feel a mouse heartbeat fluttering in my
throat. My eyes narrow and I slow my own heartbeat. My first kill will be
perfect. I have practiced enough times, on my fake mouse and in my dreams. I am
a wild cat, a silent and efficient hunter. The mouse doesn’t stand a chance.
I am full of
pellets, but I eat some anyway, the way Piper sometimes has a second helping of
cake. I bury the rest, for my next visit to the woods. The moon has almost set.
Time means little to me (I am a cat, after all), but I do like to keep my
routine. Piper will need me today after Jordan leaves. She always smells like
bleach and overcooked peas after Jordan leaves. I think it is the smell of
sadness.
When I
return to the porch I get a surprise: Piper is up and sitting in a chair. I
meow a question as I ease back inside and sit down to lick my ruffled fur. She
tugs her old grey sweatshirt closer and folds her body around the cup in her
hands.
“I miss him
already, Gian,” she says in a voice too small for her body. She doesn’t smell
like peas yet and there is only the faintest whiff of bleach. But I know my
job, and really, I enjoy it (although not the same way The Dog does). I jump
onto the table and she puts her cup down and lifts me into her lap. “You’re
always here for me. My sweet boy.” Her fingers find the spot under my chin that
makes me shut my eyes and purr. Piper is a good human. She knows where cats
like to be rubbed. I think sometimes, when I see Jordan rub her, that she is
part cat.
She doesn’t
stay long with me; only long enough for the bleach smell to fade and her usual
twilight smell to return. Carrying me over her shoulder, my head under her ear,
she hums under her breath as we go upstairs. I am allowed to sleep in the bed
with her when Jordan isn’t here; when he is, I sleep in the chair. The Dog is
jealous because he has to sleep in the hall. I give him a smug blink over
Piper’s shoulder as she shuts the door.
I don’t
sleep as I watch Piper curl up next to Jordan. I am the watch cat in moments
like these; Piper depends on me to keep her and her male safe. I sit with my
front paws folded under my chin and survey the room, noting every shadow and
breath of air. Piper looks very small next to her male.
I wonder
what they dream of. Not mice, but maybe the mouse-equivalent for humans.
Wondering about it and keeping guard occupy me until sunrise. Jordan wakes
first (he slept through the night) and looks at Piper for a long time. Then he
looks at me.
“Keep an eye
on her, ok Gian?” I lift my head and blink at him; slowly because he is a bit
dim for not realizing I do so without being asked. He relaxes back down next to
Piper and I cross my paws, close my eyes, and calculate the time until I can
next visit the garden and the woods and the wild.
FINIS
