And then the garlic. Garlic got everywhere when Biblio Chat came to stay. If the rejection of dry food wasn’t bad enough, Library Cat had to endure the despicable smell of garlic that could never be completely expunged and seemed to cling to books and bedding as if they’d been touched by the rank hand of some dark, culinary overlord.
Biblio Chat arrived, with a purr, by his cousin’s side.
“Meow,” said Library Cat, looking in the other direction.
“Miaou,” replied Biblio Chat in his own tongue (Library Cat struggled with French).
“Mééiouow”, responded Library Cat, attempting his best French accent in the hope of transcending the language barrier.
“Miaou?”, replied Biblio Chat, unheedingly.
Library Cat’s anger heightened, his tail thickening. Damn him, he could at least try to speak English!
“Miaou”, replied Library Cat in faux courtesy.
“Miaou! Miaou!” replied Biblio Chat excitedly (clearly Library Cat must’ve pronounced it right).
And with that, the pair turned and headed towards the library.
It was a quiet morning, around 9 am. Only the most devoted student Humans were at work, touching their matriculation cards on the electronic gates which slid open, and then slid closed leaving a gap, as per usual, that was the perfect width for cat decapitation. The pair carefully slipped under the gates and slinked across the foyer towards the secret entrance to the Towsery. Thinking cats have to exercise extreme caution at the best of times when entering a Towsery – stealth, surreptitiousness and diversion are key assets governing a swift and uneventful entry. Aware of this, Library Cat swiftly started mewing and looking cute. As if from thin air, a gaggle of Humans arrived and began lavishing him with strokes, kisses, tickles and titbits until the library foyer was utterly abandoned, save for one corner where Humans amassed thickly like a swarm of seagulls around a pilchard carcass on a beach. Meanwhile, Biblio Chat slipped into the Towsery unnoticed. Moments later, Library Cat rose and walked off to the exit prompting the gaggle of Humans to disperse, only to double back into the Towsery himself when no one was watching.
The Towsery was beautiful that morning. A musty warm glow shone down the corridor to greet the cats as they limboed under the dusty joists and do-si-doed around the missing floorboards. Cobwebs criss-crossed their path, and as they entered, a warm orange fire greeted them from the hearth in the corner. The high windows parcelled up pieces of grey sky, blurred out by streaks of light rain which coursed down them, making the room seem all the more cosy. Several cats were among the books, or were at play with ribbon bookmarks or paper. A couple more were sleeping by the fire. One or two eyed the newcomer wearily, but Biblio Chat paid them little heed and set about looking for his book.
As the day wore on, the cats wove themselves deeper into the thick silk of knowledge. A pleasant calm fell across Library Cat. He gazed at his cousin between doses, pawing through the papers. He’s true to himself, he thought. He might be annoying but he’s 100 per cent honest to himself. What is the role of a thinking cat on this earth if not to wallow in knowledge?
Suddenly Library Cat felt inspired. He wanted to write, he wanted to explore, and above all he wanted to create. A buzzy feeling shimmered down his entire body. He should write a poem! Something with which to woo Puddle Cat if he was ever to see her again: a note he could write and leave nearby her. The Towsery contained many stacks of books by many thinking animals, though the cat and Human books were most prolific among them. Library Cat began nosing the shelves, his whiskers brushing softly against ancient spines that glimmered in the light of the fire. It wasn’t long before a book caught his attention: The GSCE Guide to Creative Writing: Volume 1.
Seems perfectly serviceable, he thought, raising his paw and pushing the book-lozenge out of the stack, sending it clattering like a Jenga block in a plume of dust the other side. Trotting round he began reading it between sporadic bouts of furious paw licking and daydreaming. It was not very inspiring, and Library Cat began to feel his mood ebb away into an odd mind-turning lassitude.
The problem was not so much with Library Cat, however, but with poetry itself. You see, despite having come across many poems in his life, Library Cat remained indifferent towards pretty much all of them. The idyllic scenes of Wordsworth stirred him not. The thunderous lines of Milton’s Paradise Lost barely quivered a whisker… Even Shakespeare’s sonnets scarcely managed to muster forth a purr from the depths of his ennui-encircled heart.
I just wish I could do it, he thought wearily. A moment later, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of some scrawled writing in the margin of the book. The hand was definitely that of a Human, the letters being untidy and seemingly etched into the paper with the belligerence of an inattentive schoolboy. Library Cat’s breath stopped as he read the lines again, and again and again. So beautiful were their image upon the mind’s eye that Library Cat began purring involuntarily almost as soon as he read them. There was no denying it, Library Cat was stirred. The line read as follows:
The cat sat on the mat.
Such fantastic words! Such genius in their careful choice of imagery, meter and rhyme! Poetry had never before moved Library Cat so much. Compared to these lines, Wordsworth seemed to whither into a heap of dull, inconsequent near-nonsense – the sort of stuff that might be used to represent poetry at its most boring. He looked around the Towsery. In the corner, by the fire, was indeed a small mat, and with that Library Cat headed over to the mat and rested his furry posterior upon it. Cat – and the mat on which the cat sat – were one; united in a single, emblazoned vision of art. He felt his hostility towards his cousin ebbing away, and replacing it was the timeless joy of art… of reading… of poetry. He was one cat, on one mat. One action… one Muse. Before the moment went, he quickly penned his poem to Puddle Cat, rolled it into a ball, and stuffed it between the thick, gnarled wooden joists of the Towsery.
Recommended Reading
Poetry for Dummies by John Timpane.
Food consumed
Catnip / spider.
Mood
Euphoric, creative.
Discovery about Humans
They can be at their most creative when procrastinating.
Crepuscular
Night had fallen as the two cats nosed their way surreptitiously out of the Towsery and down the long web of narrow, hidden corridors to the library foyer. They were hungry, having only consumed the odd insect all afternoon, and their lust for snoozing and reading had worn thin, as hunger started to replace it, irritating their tummies and diverting their imaginations. Library Cat craved the saltiness of dried food, while Biblio Chat stated his intention for bird, perhaps pigeon – at any rate something un peu plus délicate than rodent.
As they nosed their way into the centre of the foyer, however, a sight of horror met their eyes. Students were everywhere in a blur with motion. Some were dropping big fat highlighter pens and papers which fanned out into great carpets of white on the floor; others were dodging each other to get to large grey machines which whirred and spat out yet more papers. The sheer sight of the motion made Library Cat feel queasy. Indeed, everyone was so preoccupied about the business of submitting essays that they hardly noticed Library Cat and Biblio Cat, weaving their double helix among various ankles and shoes, in their irrevocable progression towards the exit. As the cats neared the front door, Library Cat’s curiosity got the better of him and he paused to eavesdrop on a telephone conversation.