And yet they insist we are the arrogant ones!
Biblio Chat’s words hit Library Cat’s tender mood hard. He knew these things, of course, but that didn’t stave off his sudden worry for the safety of Humans and especially student-kind. His cousin continued…
But to answer your query, dear cousin: the Humans think we remain silent because we are mute. In fact, we remain silent because we are taciturn. Their philosopher Derrida explains this perfectly clearly – they need to pay more attention.
Library Cat bit his cat biscuit fiercely, his haunches high and his front legs lowered to his food bowl. He thought back to the girl on the phone, and the words she used when she spoke. He thought about other conversations he’d overheard, about the Humans’ desires for each other, as well as things they craved and lamented regularly that they didn’t have. Biblio Chat was right. It seemed that the Humans were forever comparing themselves to each other, or looking at points in the future or the past, or attempting acquisition of something, and feeling that their “present moment” fell short. It was true; knowledge did seem to be subjugated beneath the Humans’ sleepless quest for personal gain.
He wandered away from his food bowl and over to his bed. The radiator behind it was warm, and before settling, he kneaded the sheepskin blanket into just the right shape. As the clock upstairs in the chaplaincy began striking midnight, everything became silent. All but Biblio Chat’s soft purr filled the air as he remained up, sniffing the pages of several books, and rolling his head in catnip.
Then, just as Library Cat was dozing off to sleep, it hit him. Contentment! That’s what the Humans all *really* crave. That’s what us cats have and they don’t! It’s not wealth, fortune, sex and fame that they need, just contentment. And the tragedy is not that they cannot achieve it but rather they don’t know that it is contentment that they are craving. They always assume it’s something else… another thing that needs to be achieved, or bought, or done… yet they’ve lost sight of the end goal. They make happiness an invisible mouse and then spend their entire life chasing it. But they just want contentment. There is no mouse to chase.
Library Cat’s head became heavy. It was all too much thinking for one day. He rested his head down on his sheepskin, and started counting sheep. One, and indeed, Two; and, indeed, Three, and… And then the rest was sleep, and the deep silk of lovely dreams.
Recommended Reading
More Fool Me by Stephen Fry.
Food consumed
Piece of ham sandwich.
Mood
Slightly concerned. Exhausted.
Discovery about Humans
They have forgotten what it is they’re running after.
Fireworks Night
Library Cat rose, after a long paw-twitching sleep. He stood on his hind legs upon the windowsill of his bedroom to survey the weather outside. Autumn was turning to winter and things seemed sharp. Instead of autumnal oranges and browns, the square was slowly becoming blanched of its colour. All seemed frigid and still. Without further ado, Library Cat headed out through his cat flap and trotted up the stone steps of the chaplaincy into the square, tiny little clouds once again gusting out of his mouth in the cold. It felt nice to leave Biblio Chat behind snoozing on the couch, and Library Cat’s free, empty mind lifted up into the still air in a kind of relief. No more thinking. Not for today. Today was for a walk and exploring. The mousing season was nearly over, and Library Cat knew there’d be precious few remaining opportunities for a hunt. He sniffed the cold iron of the square’s gates and glanced momentarily over to his right and to the yellow warmth of the library.
Winter is better lived in; but summer is better dreamed of, he mused suddenly, squeezing between the bars of the gate and into the peaceful greenery.
He hadn’t walked any further than a couple of steps, and his mind hadn’t done much more than congratulate itself for coming up with the insightful winter/summer maxim, than his paw knocked against something hard. He glanced down. Beneath his legs was a long stick, with what appeared to be a red mouse on the end of it. He assumed it was a mouse, since it was mouse-sized and had a long thin tail projecting from its rear. He craned his neck down to sniff it. It smelt spicy and fierce.
That is not a mouse! he thought, his heart pounding as he galloping a few paces back, the peppery odour still clinging to his nostrils. It smelt a bit like catnip and fire mixed together. Tentatively he edged forward and re-examined the stick that seemed to impale the fiery-smelling mouse. He licked the end and gagged slightly. It was coloured red with yellow stripes. Nearby there was a soggy poster; it had the same red and yellow stripes plastered on it, top to bottom, and in the middle was large ballooning writing:
Library Cat didn’t like the poster. The plethora of exclamation marks alone made him deeply weary.
I’d rather miss out, he thought, sardonically going back to give the strange plastic mouse thing another sniff. Again he jumped, his eyes widening. There was something about the smell that spelt: fear-fear-fear!
I must get to the bottom of this business, he asserted to himself, and marched over to the bustling steps of the library.
The foyer of the library was pleasingly empty that afternoon. Library Cat slipped his head under the sliding glass gates and over to his favourite turquoise chair where he sat and pondered about how best to conduct his research on the red mouse-like stick thing. The odd student walked moodily up the zigzagging staircase, while in the far corner a Human in a yellow jacket started to push a large, droning box with a wet rotating disc under it for no apparent reason whatsoever. Library Cat watched it with suspicion, recalling his inexorable hatred of vacuum cleaners.
This is no place to think, he mused begrudgingly and with that he slipped away over to the secret portal to the Towsery.
That morning, the Towsery was alive with noise and commotion. Cats paced up and down agitated and mewing frantically, oblivious to the glow of the warm fire and the small platter of meats and milk that sat aside the fire grate. They eyed Library Cat’s arrival furtively. There was an odd atmosphere in the air; the cats were anxious about something. It wasn’t long before Library Cat deduced what all the fuss was about.