Library Cat looked mournfully at the trees in the square and at the tiny fractals of ice that were beginning to encircle their boughs as the teeth of winter sank deeper into the land. Beyond, he could see the Humans in their tenement houses, moving to and fro in their yellow-warm lounges behind world-muting glass. This was definitely the lull after the drama – the cold, cobble-contemplating lull, the bleak, autumnal, dank tumbleweedy solitude. Library Cat almost felt as if the weather was conspiring to make him feel even guiltier.
What came over me? Oh, the humiliation. Vomit and a swipe on the same day!
His long held dream of becoming university rector cat seemed to slither away before his eyes.
Is this the cat I’ve become? Am I to live a life punctuated with violence and covert catnip deals beneath flickering street lamps? Shunned by thinking cats, and exiled from the delicious warmth and literary pleasures of the Towsery?
“Yo! Cat! Hey, wait up!”
A Human was running towards him, his red satchel bouncing off his waist. Just as Library Cat thought he’d stop, he continued running past him.
Fine, run on by me sir, your indifference means nothing to me, seethed Library Cat inwardly.
But now another Human, a girl this time, approaching him more slowly.
“Hey Library Cat! Hey, come here…”
She bent down and kissed the air in his direction. Pleased for the company, Library Cat rose and moped over, avoiding eye contact.
“There, there, no need to look so sad! Here, have some tuna.”
TUNA!
“There, there. Good boy.”
BOY? … hmmm strokes, yes, strokes, strokes, strokes… mm… KEEP STROKING!
“More? OK, here you go.”
No, not more Tuna, you cretin, more strokes!
“Mmm? No more? OK… Your coat is so soft…!”
YES! Strokes… Mmmm… strokes. That last stroke was scrummy.
The Human eventually rose, towering up above him, turned and walked away smiling. Then the night before came flooding back to Library Cat once more.
But it had disappeared for a moment. During the strokes, his mind had become unstuck. It had lifted away, beyond the past and lingered in the present. For a second, he had forgotten about the last twenty-four hours.
It was a start.
Recommended Reading
‘Whatever Happened’ by Philip Larkin.
Food consumed
1 x lump of tuna (probably more than a day old so technically “illegal”).
Mood
Cyclonic. Slowly stabilising.
Discovery about Humans
Sometimes, they are a much-needed distraction.
Proximate Bird
Still extradited from the library some hours later, Library Cat had taken to sleeping on the concrete benches just outside the library café. It was better than nothing. But cold concrete is a poor substitute for the lavish turquoise fabric of his usual chair in the foyer.
His tummy heavy with tuna, he had just dozed off into a tail-twitched sleep when he was rudely awoken.
“Squark,” said the Proximate Bird.
Oh shut up, thought Library Cat.
“Squark! Squark!,” said the Proximate Bird, with vigour.
Look it’s quite simple, seethed Library Cat. I am here to sleep and think; you are here to irritate and be eaten.
“SQUARK!” repeated the Proximate Bird, unheedingly.
You really are daft, aren’t you? Look, I’ve had a tough forty-eight hours, so let me substantiate what I just thought: I am here to sleep and think. You are here to irritate and be eaten… potentially by me. I kindly draw your attention to the latter part of your measly commission on this earth – the “be eaten by me” part. I accept it’s a thought in the passive voice, but…
“SQUAAAAAAAAARK” interrupted the Proximate Bird.
OK that’s it, thought Library Cat, an early dinner it is.
Library Cat rose, and yawned. He carefully stretched his white paw, and then his black paw, markedly extending his claws each time. He gave his coat a lick (for hunting should never be undertaken with a dirty coat), and shook his head.
If he will insist on interrupting me right while I’m about to have a dream about Nietzsche, mused Library Cat, then frankly he deserves to be eaten. Right where is he? Proximate Bird? Where are you Proximate Bird? I want to be friends after all. Come now Proximate Bird, I have a worm for you. Proximate Bird…?
But no sooner did Library Cat rise than Proximate Bird had flown off to meet his wife, to create many Proximate Chicks, and generally increase the already infuriating din of birds around George Square.
Peace at last! reflected Library Cat. No birds, no Humans. Bliss! Come at me, Nietzsche.
He settled back down for a nap.
“Oh my God, yah, the people sitting opposite me on level 4 just WON’T STOP talking, yah. One of them was even SKYPING! Oh Library Cat! Hi Library Cat! Hi! Library Cat, LIBRARY CAT!”
Oh for goodness sake! fumed Library Cat. The Humans are worse than the birds and they don’t even know it!
Recommended Reading
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.
Food consumed
Almost one bird.
Mood
Grossly irritated.
Discovery about Humans
Sometimes, they are utterly blind to their own hypocrisies.
Essay Completion Week
That afternoon saw Library Cat sitting in a ray of sun. Suddenly an intense feeling of imperiousness washed over him. Riding its balmy wave were his father’s words, remembered from a time when he was no more than a bounding Library Kitten.
“Everything the light touches, Library Kitten, is your kingdom.”
“But what about that far-off shadowy place?” Library Cat had responded. “That’s the Hugh Robson Essay Bunker: you must never go there, Library Kitten.”
Hmm, the Hugh Robson Essay Bunker, thought Library Cat now, some six years on. What’s so unpleasant about it, I wonder. And why should I be denied entrance? More to the point, from what archaic law does my untimely forbiddance derive? Biblio Chat had visited it during his last stay in Edinburgh and had claimed it was an “inspiring” experience.