The Cat

The cat’s long, black tail swings down from the branch, swaying in the breeze. As a kitten, she was taught to never give away her position when hidden in a tree, but things are better now. She can relax around these humans as long as she is out of their reach. She’s learned from experience that staying away from the humans is, in general, a good idea, but they won’t hurt her if they see her. Not the way they once did. The cat hasn’t been around for long enough to remember a time when the humans, especially the male variants, took a liking to making cats’ lives miserable, and she’s glad that they have learned their lesson.

From her perch, she watches silently as the sun rises and the humans come back to life. Slowly, one by one, they begin to emerge from their homes, yawning and bleary-eyed. Most are laden with cloth bags filled with bricks (or so she thinks, based on the way some of the humans are bent under their weights). As the sun gets higher, more and more humans appear, progressively looking and sounding more awake. Some of them are practically bouncing as they walk; others shout at their friends as they somehow use their inferior vision to spot a member of their species across the street. Groups of them pass by the cat’s tree, all talking loudly. Some are laughing, even shoving each other around playfully, like little kittens playing in the street. The cat simply doesn’t understand such immaturity, but she reminds herself that they are humans, after all, and they can’t be expected to carry the same dignity as cats.

Some of the groups are more solemn, but the cat doesn’t like those groups, either. Three females walk past, one with water running down her face (the cat has never understood the point of this human ability); “She lied to me!” the wet one warbles, only for the humans to awkwardly assure her that “everything will be okay.”

Humph, the cat scoffs to herself. Weak humans. If I mewled like a kitten every time a cat lied to me, I’d never eat.

The cat moves to an adjoining branch to get a different viewing angle on the next group, another set of females. Their faces are all red; the cat wishes in their stead that they could grow fur to cover that up. “Who does he think he is?!” one of them screeches, piercing the cat’s sensitive ears. “Sometimes I just want to smack him. What a jerk!”

Once again, the cat rolls her yellow eyes in annoyance. Who cares what one human thinks of another? Focus on making yourself less annoying, and maybe you won’t have to complain so loudly.

Shortly after, a group of males walks by, shoving each other and laughing so that the cat’s ears pin themselves to her head. Nevertheless, her impeccable hearing still deciphers their speech; “Bro, you need a break. Let’s play Smash this weekend, you can catch up later.”

Skipping work to play games? How immature. How do these humans expect to survive by playing games like kittens all day? The cat flicks her tail in annoyance. As soon as the humans are all gone, she plans to descend the tree and find a quieter spot to brood.

The next face that comes along is one the cat immediately recognizes. This female leaves food out almost every day next to her home just for the stray cats in the area, and she never yells, but merely whispers on the off chance that the cat lets her guard down near her. Unlike the other humans, she is alone, and she holds her phone up to her ear, speaking into it; “I don’t know what to tell you, girl. God’s in control, so just don’t freak out. He’s in control and he loves you, just don’t forget that, okay…?”

The cat relaxes as the human strolls away. At least one of them is bearable.

The stream of humans has ended at last, and the cat gracefully leaps from her perch and slinks away, head and tail high.

Written by Catherine

Image credit: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cat_on_the_tree_3.jpg

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