The Cat by Khaleel Jooste
*
He takes a picture of the cat.
It runs up the bottom stairs of the kitty mansion. Jumps immediately to the rope, swings around a bit, then throws itself into the hanging basket. It starts rubbing with its back against the side.
“I thought you’d like that, Tiger. It’s f… fur. Some animal gave its life so that you can lounge, you know, in comfort.” He swallows and takes another picture.
The cat meows and runs along the many hoops and enters one of the kitty homes. It peeks through the hole in the side and meows.
“I gotcha.” He takes another picture.
The cat runs up more stairs and starts attacking the fake mouse hanging from one of the railings.
“That’s it, big guy. Work it out,” he takes another picture, “get some practice for when the real rats come and steal our food.” He walks to the back of the mansion and takes more pictures.
The cat crawls through the long tunnel; camera flashes as it is about to exit. The cat meows more and jumps to the hammock; it nearly misses, hangs from the side and claws into it. Immediately it rubs itself against the material and then simply lays there as the hammock swings about.
“Don’t fall asleep now. We still got to go through the album, you know, before you get to rest. We can’t break tradition, you know.”
The cat gets up. Stretches lazily, meows, then runs excitedly along the top platform. It heads for the ball hanging from the post attached to the ceiling. It scratches at it wildly.
“Careful now, big guy. Don’t break it off on its first day.” He laughs.
“Try the scratch post if you feel like clawing.”
The cat looks down at the bottom of the mansion. It swings from the ball, lands on the hanging basket and jumps quickly to the floor; heads straight for the scratching post and starts clawing at it.
“That’s it. Perhaps you’ll leave the couch and my bed post alone from now on.” He takes more pictures and then goes to sit on the large, round, brown suede bean bag that was in the corner of the cat’s room.
He takes the album lying on top of the kitty-back-scratcher.
“Come here, big guy, let’s have a look.” He pats the space next to him.
The cat claws at the post a few more times. It meows softly and then joins him on the bean bag.
It gets onto his lap and starts licking him in his face.
“I’m glad you like it, Tiger. Hope the mocha colour I choice works for you.” He lets the cat lick his nose.
“A’ight. Enough of that now.” He lifts the cat and puts it down beside him. It sits up straight and expectantly waits for him to open the album.
He laughs out loud.
“You remember this one?” He points to the picture of the cat when it was still a kitten.
“This was taken a coupla weeks after you were born.” He laughs more.
“I remember this time very well. You used to get onto my bed, crawl beneath the covers and start suckin’ my toes. Nasty, Tiger. But I understood.” He rubs the cats head.
“Probably missed your mom, yeah?” The cat meows loudly and pats the album.
“Okay, I’ll move along. No need to be so sensitive.”
The cat strokes its tail in his face and purrs softly.
“Remember this Christmas? Mamaw knitted you that awful jumper. You didn’t like it one bit. Kept tryin’, you know, to get out of it.”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t blame you, big guy, you know. I love the old lady, but that jumper was plain nasty. That’s not your color at all.” He rubs the cats belly and turns the page.
“This is one of my absolute favorites. You and me eatin’ that giant ice-cream. We had six scoops.” He winks at the cat.
“Do you remember? You polished off most of the butterscotch all by yourself.”
The cat meows and licks his fingers.
“You remember, I know. You did exactly that after we finished. Lick my fingers.” He chuckles.
“Sorry about this one.”
The cat looks at him with a twist of the head. It then covers its eyes with its paws.
“You still not forgiven me, big guy? I’m sorry.” He moves the cats left paw from its eye and kisses the paw.
“I’ll never do it again.”
He takes the picture from the album, tares it up and tosses it into the bin in the corner of the room.
“There. It’s gone forever. No more Santa. I don’t know what I was thinkin’ puttin’ you in his lap. And you were wearin’ that tight jumper too. Double bad.” He rubs the cats head.
“Nasty tradition that to be honest, you know. Teachin’ children to sit in old men’s laps and they can get a present.”
He croons.
“Oh Santa make my wish come truuuuuuue.” He disapprovingly shakes his head.
“Nasty, Tiger. I’ll never do it again.” He turns the page.
He sighs and smiles at himself.
“My favorite all.” He puts the cat on his lap.
“Do you remember?” He starts laughing.
“You were so funny. Chasin’ that squirrel up the tree. You fell from the branch and landed in Sandy’s plastic play pool. Hahahahaha! All wet. You ran immediately, you know, to Mamaw’s room and got under the covers.”
The cat gets off his lap and puts its claws into his forearm.
“Still angry about that too? Ouch! Okay, a’ight. I’ll move along.” He laughs.
“Perhaps that scratch post wasn’t such a good idea. Your claws are sharp.” He rubs the area where the cat scratched him.
The cat licks it too.
“You are forgiven. Don’t be so sensitive, big guy. I’m only messin’ with you.” He rubs its head and kisses the top.
“Look at this one. Me and you relaxin’ after we got stuffed with Mamaw’s stuffin’. You remember those dumplins with that great dressin’? Mmmmmmmhu.” He strokes the cat. It rests in his lap with its tail curled around its body and purrs softly.
“That was a great day. Look at you. All happy without a care in the world.”
The cat seems fast asleep.
He closes the album and lifts the cat more towards his face.
It meows and opens its eyes.
“You know, Tiger. You might just be one big cat in this world, but you are the only big cat that means the world to me. Love you, big guy. Happy birthday and Merry Christmas.”
He kisses the cat’s forehead; rubs its belly.
It licks his face.
“A’ight. Time to rest. Gotta get some beauty sleep before our date with Miss Mya tonight.”
The cat meows. Pats him in his face and they both get comfortable on the bean bag and fall asleep.
*
The cat gets off the bean bag.
It stretches lazily as it rubs its body against the kitty-back-scratcher. Satisfied, it runs out of the room and heads straight for the kitchen. It gives one look at its bowls, hesitates for a second, decides to leave it and leaps onto the counter. It heads immediately for the window and exits the apartment, sliding down the window.
It runs along the narrow sill and slides down the gutter into the alley. It gives one last look up then makes its way towards the end of the alley.
*
The cat slowly enters the half open manhole and jumps to the bottom, careful not to get wet.
It was pitch black.
Its green eyes two shiny orbs that move along the side of the sewer wall. It runs for a while, before heading into a smaller, round tunnel to the right.
It keeps heading down the tunnel and finally emerges.
A hand reaches.
It lifts the cat into the air.
“Finally home he is, Ginger?”
“Meow.”
The dark figure carries the cat to a door.
Bright light as it opens up.
“Me hopes he got something for us worth using this time. Yes.”
He lets go of the cat.
It runs across
The man moves slowly.
Limping with his right leg. He seems more to be dragging his big boots as he approaches the cat.
“Let us have a looksee.”
He takes the cat’s head into his left hand and starts fiddling with its right ear.
“He don’t be worrying now, he hears. Is for his best will, he knows. Us will have he back soon, he sees. Yes.”
Round spectacles on his big, roundish nose; he winks.
The cat meows.
“He understands.” He smiles.
“Let us do it then. Us will have he back soon, he sees.”
There is a beep-beep sound.
The man limps to a computer and inserts a tiny chip into a slot. The screen lights up.
A picture of a brunette girl appears.
“He did good, Ginger did.”
He nods.
*
“Tiger! Tiger! Where you at?”
He keeps calling for the cat.
Giving up, he gives himself one last look in the mirror by the front door.
“Who da man? You da man. Yes, you are.” He winks at himself and was about to leave when he notices a small note lying halfway underneath the door.
He picks it up and reads.
Thanks for the gardening tips. The weeds have all wilted and died.
I don’t think they know. We need a resolution.
Word.
XV
He takes a lighter and lights the piece of paper. He lets it burn in one of the many trophies standing in the foyer.
Satisfied, he leaves the apartment.
*
He picks up the payphone.
Throws in a few quarters and dials a number.
Yes.
A male voice answers.
“It’s me.”
Told you not to call here. It’s not safe.
“Thought I told you to stay, you know, away from my apartment.”
I have to speak to you.
“I have nothing to say to you. Stop botherin’ me.”
Bro, please.
“Don’t bro me. You don’t know me.”
He hangs up.
Starts calling for his cat.