jeudi 23 avril 2015

The Cat


Being a cat is not easy. Of course, there are many perks- no need to get up at a ridiculously early hour like He does. (Why? It never ceases to amaze me). Every morning He rushes down the stairs and grabs a chocolate croissant. If I’m lucky and he’s in a real rush, the croissant will slip from his hands and that’s where I get my breakfast. So much better than this muddy cat stuff. I wonder why people think it’s good for me. One chocolate croissant. Is it really too much to ask for?

Anyway, where were we? Oh yes, he grabs a chocolate croissant and kisses Her on the cheek. No, it’s not a kiss. It’s more of a peck. He knows he should do it, so He does. Mechanically. One quick peck on the right cheek.  And She mechanically turns the cheek and says in this falsely cheerful voice: ‘Have a lovely day!’ but I know that she doesn’t really care about his day, already too absorbed planning her own. Then it’s Her turn to get ready. Before She heads upstairs to put some weird red staff on her mouth, She gives me the muddy food. Ok, ok, I’m being slightly on the critical side here. In fact it’s not too bad and the fish variety could rival the sausage that I sometimes find on the table, if it is inadvertently left there. Or maybe they leave it there because they know I want it? Why do they get to eat in a civilised way, sitting at this lovely (oh how good it feels to dig my nails into it) wooden table and I have to eat from the floor? Yes, you get it right. From the FLOOR. 

Anyway, I have to admit that the muddy stuff does actually make my charcoal fur shine even more, when I look at myself in the mirror. I don’t know why she hates it when I sit in the bathroom sink. Surely, I have the right to admire myself just as she does? And I spend less time there than she does. Plus, there are so many interesting things to play with. My favourite one is the funny tube that releases this weird colourful substance when I press on it. Once, being driven crazy by my ignorance as to its purpose, I hid under the cupboard and saw Him squeezing the substance into his mouth. This was followed by a vigorous scrubbing with a strange object. Humans are really bizarre. Why would they eat something that smells so awful- a strong odour of mint- rather than enjoy the taste of cheese or ham?  Anyway, I’m rambling again. See, being cat is really not easy. So where was I?

Oh yes, when they leave the house I am bored. All the mice, which used to be so fun to chase after, (Do not for a moment think I would have eaten them, although this is apparently what He expected of me, when I first brought him a nice, freshly strangled and bitten specimen), disappeared long ago and now I need to come up with some new activities to occupy myself with.

My favourite pastime is ripping apart the huge sheets of paper with black letters all over them, which I find discarded near the bin (She’s too lazy to put them inside the bin, so they end up laying everywhere but not where they are supposed to be) and contemplating. Yes, you got it right. I spend most of my day contemplating.
Humans don’t get it. I’ve heard them laugh so many times when they catch me absorbed in this extremely intense task and say: ‘ Oh look, she’s sitting motionless again. Like a statute! Maybe she’s turned into a sphinx?’
What is a sphinx? When I demanded, they gave me a sausage. Of course, a sausage is ALWAYS appreciated but not when I want to deepen my knowledge, which is, not to be boastful, quite extensive and impressive.  Who knows better than I do where are the keys that got lost two months ago? (Ok, I did learn this fact by making them disappear and hiding underneath the sofa but please do understand, they make the loveliest noise possible when I chase them around the living room)

But how long can one contemplate for? When they finally return, (Why is he always so stressed when he comes home? And if he is, why does he keeping rushing so much wherever it is that he goes in the morning? What’s the point in rushing somewhere where you don’t want to be? It’s as if I was rushing to be bathed. Not happening. Ever. Humans really are weirdest of creatures.), I get one shot at running out of the door and going for a lovely walk. I don’t understand why they get so angry when I do get out and why do they keep chasing me.
 I would always come home. Where else would it be so warm and where else would I have so much food? I am not a bin cat. I feel repulsed by some cats that fight for a smelly piece of bone down the street. Honestly, can’t they just go home and ask for something better? That’s what I do whenever I feel hungry. I’ve also noticed that when I look at Her very intently, without blinking, she makes this cooing, funny noise: ’awwww’ and gives me something very tasty.

This was the noise she made one day when her loud blonde friend in very high heels and smile that seemed to be plastered on her face brought with her a small, wailing creature. I found the creature mildly interesting but the humans treated it as if it was a miracle. They gathered around the creature, started smiling and saying how beautiful the creature was. Well they don’t say this about me this often.  I did feel jealous! Maybe I should be wailing like the creature?

Anyway, when I go for a walk I get to observe the humans in their natural habitat. Normally, I sit in the middle of the street in the dark and watch whoever passes by. Most of them are always in a hurry. I presume they have more wailing creatures at home, as they all seem to like them.  Sometimes, they walk slower, however, enjoying the views and the calmness of the night. (See how poetic I’ve become since I’ve started contemplating life in the middle of the dark alley?). 

Look at these two male humans. They seem to be angry. They are shouting at each other and not paying even slightest attention to me, even though I am sitting here very gracefully. Strange. Not even batting my long eyelashes or seductive purring seems to be interesting to them. Well, their loss.
Oh, this is interesting! There is a couple, kissing passionately, He presses her against the wall and she says (actually that resembles my purr): ‘One more kiss. Please’. They seem to be in another reality, another dimension. Although I’m a few metres away, I can still feel the love and passion that surrounds them like magical aura. After all, I’m a cat, and being one I’m in possession of many special gifts, which most humans do not have. Now, that’s what I call a kiss.

I have to run home and tell Them how it should be done.




lundi 20 avril 2015

MS short story

The sunshine and soothing sound of music played by the band were transforming the fete into something I’ve dreamt up moths ago. This idyllic picture was completed by children’s’ laughter and the joyful barking of the dogs, not yet aware of the fact that they were to be presented in front of the audience.
 ‘Would they ever be?’- The thought came to my mind though I couldn’t quite dwell on it. It was too hot. Way too hot.
  ‘Would they want to compete in the categories such as ‘the best personality’ or, even worse, ‘the wiggliest tail’? Is it right for us, humans, to subject the animals to such degradation for our pleasure? Or maybe it’s not degradation after all? Perhaps the animals enjoy the fleeting moment of attention? Maybe the proud owners do not normally spend so much time with them?’ – I wondered but it was too difficult to focus on it. It was becoming difficult to focus on anything.
I could see a small crowd gathering around the excited animals. It was difficult to say whether the owners weren’t more excited than their pets. The dog show was clearly a good idea.  I applauded myself for coming up with it.
‘Wait, was it my idea? Why is everything so confusing? Why am I so tired?’ – the questions kept popping into my head making it even more difficult to focus on various people greeting me, congratulating me on organising this event.
‘Don’t they understand how difficult it is for me to be here? To be stuck in this wheelchair, barely being able to open my mouth?’- the angry voice in my head silenced all the cheerful thoughts I had. Suddenly the picture seemed less idyllic. It started to resemble a sad grotesque.
Here they were, strangers, coming to learn something about multiple sclerosis, the disease I’ve been suffering from for almost ten years now. They were proud of themselves.  Sacrificing their Sunday just to come and see ‘ill people’, show their mercy, spend some pennies on the coconut water or cookies. I could see pity in their eyes as they were approaching me to say: ‘ Wow, thank you for organising this. It’s amazing’.
‘But is it? What have I really accomplished?’- This question would have made me really upset had I not been so tired. It’s easy for them to laugh, run, enjoy the sunshine. Well, simply enjoy the life. My life, as I knew it, ended some years ago. No, that’s the wrong way to put it. It did not end abruptly like a candle being extinguished by a strong blow of the wind. It used to burn like a flame and then began withering and withering away until I was left like this. (‘withering and withering away’…just like my thoughts now. Why is it so hot?) Same body, still recognisable by my friends. Yet so different to what it used to look like. Still the same mind, yet so changed. Much less recognisable by me.
‘Who’s this person approaching me? I’ve seen him before’
Another handshake, another kiss on the cheek. Then they will all go back to their world, shutting the door tightly behind them. It’s not easy to be surrounded by the disabled people after all.  I used to be exactly like this. How do you approach someone with a disability? Show him pity?  He’ll recognise it. Just as I can feel it now.
The music changed. The joyful sounds of some old rock song filled the churchyard. I saw the smiles on people’s faces. I heard them talking passionately about MS.

Maybe I did accomplish something after all. Perhaps our worlds are intermingled and it’s me creating the division, shutting myself off from them. Maybe the children’s laughter and the smile of people surrounding me are worth it. Maybe my life can still resemble the flame rather than a hollow existence. Maybe that’s just how it should be. My lips twitched. I was smiling.