“You feeling better, Library Cat?”
“M-wah,” said Library Cat weakly, his eyes half closed.
Now the first Green Human tightened their grip as the second Green Human walked purposely towards him and then disappeared beyond him. The last thing Library Cat remembered was the pain of a red-hot, sharp fang pushing thickly into his ruched-up fur.
Silence.
“Library Cat! Can you hear me?”
I can indeed, thought Library Cat.
“Look, a treat! You’ve been such a good boy!”
Kindly don’t patronise me. I’ve been no different to usual. Where am I?
Library Cat looked around him. He was in a waiting room, but was unsure why. Gradually the neurons in his brain started to warm up and flicker with memories, like a cantankerous photocopier receiving its first user of the day. The vet. The Green Human. The gratuitous and sudden cruelty. Tentatively he stood up. He saw, in front of him, a parcel of blooded dressing. Looking at it made him feel suddenly light and faint like a delicate papier-mâché lampshade. Then he remembered. He sat down again. Numerous Humans were stroking him gently. He heard himself purr. This shocked him, because the moment he heard himself purr, he knew that he couldn’t conceal his hostility any longer. He felt relaxed, and grateful for the Humans’ company. A pressure had been released somewhere near his rear end. Gradually he lifted himself upon all four paws once again. The Humans fell suddenly, respectfully quiet as if half-expecting him to break into an exemplary recital of Rimsky-Korsakov’s ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ at the pianoforte. He edged to the side of the table and leapt off.
“M-wahhhh!”
Library Cat had landed with a splat on the floor, all four paws splayed outwards like tent poles, and his aerial image resembling the flayed skin of a Scottish Wildcat, pinned barbarically upon the living room of some nobleman’s mansion.
“Too much too soon, Library Cat,” the Green Human said between laughs. “He’ll be a bit woozy for the next hours. Make sure he remains hydrated, and refrain from giving him salty treats for the next forty-eight hours. Oh and ensure he keeps the cone on.”
Cone? What cone? Why are you talking about a cone? mused Library Cat, mildly perturbed.
And then he noticed. Cutting in along the radius of his peripheral vision was a large plastic circle.
The Cone of Shame! wept Library Cat inwardly as he envisaged how ridiculous he must look with an enormous satellite dish for a head.
If they wanted me to not scratch, they’ve only to ask politely. Oh not the Cone of Shame. Anything but the Cone of Shame!
Later that day Library Cat began feeling his way around the chaplaincy with a massive plastic cone on his head obscuring his view and mocking his spatial awareness. He tried to conceal his humiliation by hiding in the gap between the fridge and the boiler. It was one of his favourite spaces. But the Cone of Shame stopped him. He tried diverting his sorrow by riffling through books, but the Cone of Shame snagged the pages. He tried eating, but the Cone of Shame scooped up his biscuits and flung them in the air. Giving up and feeling sorry for himself, he decided to go for a walk… but the Cone of Shame snagged on the cat flap. Finally, he discovered that the Cone of Shame was much like the barb on a fishing line, and that if he reversed into the necessary spaces, he could get himself into them. So he reversed out the cat flap, reversed through the railings of George Square, and reversed through the glass gates of the library, and up into the stairs to the Towsery.
Sheepishly, Library Cat skulked along the rafters to the Towsery where the warmth of the fire was already circling down the cone and onto his fur. The Head Towser of Edinburgh University Library! Wearing the Cone of Shame. Oh the Humiliation.
As he turned the corner to this evenings gaggle of thinking cats – all either high-tailed among the stacks, nibbling at mice between the rafters, or flicking through ancient tomes by the orange firelight – Library Cat paused, awaiting the inevitable rumble of jeering purrs. Indeed they came, but subsided quickly also. After all, most cats face the Cone of Shame at some point in their lives, and while especially humiliating for a thinking cat, it never need stand in the way of a cat’s character. Promptly the other Towsers jumped up and set to work nibbling the tight meshed plastic around Library Cat’s neck. Library Cat was moved at the sudden act of camaraderie, and felt his humiliation begin to dissolve.
Eventually he was free, and he stretched with plentiful purrs of gratitude, nuzzling the faces of his faithful saviours.
Later, Library Cat headed back to the chaplaincy. He knew that at some point he’d have to confront his Human again. A bubble of panic curdled in his belly. He wondered whether he could trust his Human any more after he’d taken him along to the Vet without asking his permission. He went into his room and hid.
“Library Cat? Oh, Library Cat, come out from under there! All right, all right, I’ll take off my green coat. There. Happy now? Oh Library Cat, please come out from under there. It’s OKAY, Library Cat, trust me. Ahhh… There! You see? I told you…”
Mmm, good stroke.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that earlier, Library Cat. But it was for your own good.”
Please don’t bring up the Green Human. I’ll forgive you in time.
“Don’t give me that look, it was for your own good, Library Cat. Trust me.”
Trust you? Mmmm… agreeable ear-tickle… mmm…
“There, there. Oh no, Library Cat, what have you done with your Cone?”
Run!
Library Cat bolted between the fridge and the boiler. As the evening drew on, he gave himself a good preen. He was sweaty and matted, and it does a thinking cat’s pride no good when he or she looks like they’ve been dragged up from the Union Canal. He thought about the day with delicious detachment.
I guess when someone says things aren’t right, you have to trust them, even if it does hurt, and everyone around you does seem mad, he thought, as he crossed his paws and dozed with the warm, blue glow of the boiler flickering next to him.
Recommended Reading
‘Ambulances’ by Philip Larkin.
Food consumed
1 cat treat, 2 tiny bits of plastic (from Cone of Shame).
Mood
Fearful (morning), humiliated (early afternoon), touched (early evening), emboldened (late evening).
Discovery about Humans
They sometimes shield the truth for fear of being judged.
Overdue
Several days had passed since Library Cat chewed himself free of the Cone of Shame, and he had settled quite comfortably back into his usual routine. Morning: rise at 9.30 am, doze for an hour. Mid-Morning: breakfast, head to turquoise chair for snooze. Early Afternoon: disappear to the Towsery for reading. Early evening: hunting, supper and bed.
This particular morning, Library Cat had roused from his slumber and spent a good half an hour simply admiring the piles of books in his bedroom in the chaplaincy. They scattered around him almost as far as the eye could see, and when his Human came down to change his food, he often took some time to negotiate carefully between the various piles, slurping his fresh bowl of water in the process. Some piles were only a couple of books deep, others towered haphazardly up like a three-year-old’s early attempts at civil engineering, and seen together at their various heights, they seemed to resemble the dancing bars of a graphics equaliser on a nineties stereo system, each one a different colour and height, shimmying up and down as if to some hidden symphony of knowledge.