“Yeah, like, I was like sooo hung-over after Hive last night? Like, I was in my lecture and like so wanted to chunder, but like couldn’t…?”
Are they speaking another language? thought Library Cat, confused. And why are they ending every sentence with a strange inflection, as if everything’s a question? And what’s this about a “Hive”?
Irritated, Library Cat slinked through the crowd, many of whom didn’t even notice him, and trod terrifyingly close to his tail. Then, disaster struck. As he turned the corner towards his turquoise chair in the foyer, he found it occupied by a student Human, who cavalierly sat in it while chewing gum, utterly ignorant to the fact that it was his, was covered in his hair, and was reserved indefinitely for his furry posterior alone. Library Cat became enraged. Wide-eyed and pursed-up, he ventured out into the fresh cold autumn air. And then it hit him.
They’ve arrived, he thought. The Freshers are here; that’s one sitting on my turquoise chair.
Over the years, Library Cat had grown quite accustomed to recognising a Fresher. Since his reading habits eschewed all knowledge of the university’s academic timetable, Library Cat was forced to find other means of recognising Freshers. This wasn’t too difficult, as the typical Edinburgh University Fresher usually betrayed themselves relatively quickly through certain mispronunciations that could not go unnoticed by a fastidious, all-listening-and-thinking cat such as himself. Examples of these mispronunciations included:
1. Pronouncing Teviot as “Tevv-i-yot”.
2. Pronouncing Buccleuch Street as “Buck-Looch Street”.
3. Pronouncing Ceilidh as “Ker-lye-der”.
4. Pronouncing Potterrow as “Potter-rowe”.
Other giveaways were:
5. Wandering into the library and asking “Is this ‘The Advice Place’?”
6. Tedious displays of machismo.
7. References to Harry Potter while gazing up wide-eyed at buildings.
8. Laughter at the fact some buses terminate at a place called “Bush”.
(I really don’t see what’s drôle about the word “Bush”, thought Library Cat. A bush is a perfectly charming creation.)
Suddenly, there was a voice:
“Oh my God, is that Library Cat!?”
“What?”
“There’s apparently this thinking cat who lives here called Library Cat!”
“Are you on MDMA?”
“No seriously!”
Library Cat eyed the Humans suspiciously. He felt uncomfortable, and overcrowded, his personal space compromised. He wandered into the long grass of George Square to muse on what he’d seen.
They appear to not understand how a library operates, he thought. Whatever happened to pondering… to learning gently as learning should be undertaken? If only they could see the Towsery. They seem to be subjecting themselves to never-ending psychological torment.
Library Cat knew that the Human libraries used to be much like the Towsery. But then something called ‘Education Reforms’ happened. Universities started to be sausage factories for the middle-class literati – feeder schools for Penguin Books and PricewaterhouseCoopers. And also, they were no longer free: Library Cat could wander into the Towsery whenever he wished, but apparently these student Humans had to pay great sums of money for the privilege of even crossing the library’s threshold! As such, the Humans often had to work several jobs in order to pay for access to university and the library.
They’re doing too much! thought Library Cat. They’ll burn out! And they need to stop using the word “like” unnecessarily.
Then Library Cat had an epiphany: Maybe if they stopped repeating the word “like” unnecessarily, they’ll free up a lot of time. With this time, they can then learn to study properly and take it from there.
And so Library Cat, self-satisfied in the belief that he’d got his quest to better understanding the Human off to a good start, headed back home to the chaplaincy.
Enough for one day, he thought as he kneaded his paws in and out of his bed, lapped up some milk, had a scratch of the skirting board and gently fell off to sleep.
Recommended Reading
Life’s Little Instruction Book by H. Jackson Brown.
Food consumed
1 x piece of bacon; 1 x woodlouse (in the Towsery).
Mood
Very Good, though chequered with irritation.
Discovery about Humans
They’ve forgotten how to be calm, and forgotten how libraries work.
Roadworks
The next morning, Library Cat awoke with a start. From out in the square, there came a horrendous noise. It made his ears twist back. The Humans were up to something. A peculiar odour seeped in through the gap under the window that smelt like burning and rubber mixed together.
It sounds and smells like the fourth circle of Hell, winced Library Cat, this is what Dante had in mind, I’m sure.
He rose and arched his back, blearily stretching his paws before him and lumbered blearily out on to the street to investigate. There in front of him were a variety of Humans, many dressed in bright yellow, while wrestling with pieces of wire and pipe next to a big hole in the ground. They seemed to have dug up a portion of the road for no apparent reason whatsoever. To his right, there was a massive red van from which a great heat seemed to radiate sideward. It was so intense that it almost singed Library Cat’s fur. Inside it, he could see a furnace releasing silky plumes of smoke that unfurled into the sky. Beneath the furnace, there poured a thick back gloop that thudded into a vat like treacle.
A memory stirred. I remember them from before! They were digging up the same bit of road last week. Why are they back?
But what was most curious was the sign. Adjacent to all the commotion, the Humans had erected a big triangular notice. To most cats, and Humans, this sign would say “Warning: Human at Work”. To Library Cat, the sign said, “Warning: Incompetent Human Struggling to Adjust Parasol”.
Ridiculous Humans! thought Library Cat. They dig up the road pointlessly, and erect a sign warning each other against their own insipid attempts at garden warfare.
Library Cat rubbed the sleep lazily from his eyes with his paw. Yawning, he walked along the pavement to investigate more. From the other corner of the square, a Human was removing poles that had been attached to the side of tenements and was chucking them into the back of a lorry. With each almighty clang, Library Cat upped his pace into a little canter, looking behind himself in fear.
He couldn’t deal with such foolishness, not today, and the annoyance he felt at being woken up as early as 11.14 am still hadn’t worn off. He looked at his paws. They were lathered with a thick, black, strong-smelling substance. He licked them and gagged.
He jumped once again as yet another pole was chucked into the back of the lorry.
Why can’t they just lay the poles down?
Back by the hole, the yellow Humans were feeding a long, blue pipe underground into which they threaded a long line of cable. The other end of the cable bounced and tweaked with the motion. It made him want to pounce. He edged over to it, claws poised.