Cat Dreams

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” said the squirrel, with this sort of street tough accent. Not like the squirrels back in Michigan, who were simply and playful to a fault. “Tail on fire?”

“You speak cat?”

“Enough. Ya learn things on the street,” he said, with a bit of a lisp through those prominent front teeth. “Welcome to the neighborhood, kid.

We both leaned, nearly touching noses as we took a quick sniff. Of course, there was really no telling what sort of character this really was until I could get around and sniff that butt. Seeing as that didn’t seem likely to happen any time soon I took what I could get.

“Kid?” I complained. “Why is everyone calling me kid?”

“Nice tail,” he said. I did sort of a tail chasing turn to see just what he was talking about. I realized almost instantly, even before he laughed a chirping little laugh. I instantly felt dumb for it.

“That’s why I called you kid. A little on the gullible side. That will get you in trouble around here.”

I wanted to jump on that little rodent in the worst way, chase him across the yard or up a tree. Indeed, this was an odd and unexpected moment for both of us. He had a dangerous look in his round black eyes. He rubbed his tiny clawed hands together. His whiskers twitched suspiciously. On the branch of the big Maple behind him three of his chubby little pals looked on. I glanced back at Smudge, curled up and sleeping in the window. I had my doubts she would come to my aid if I got in a tussle with this rabble.

I decided a bit of a show of force was in order. After all, I was a cat, a hunter not some sad little scavenger like this lout. Not that there wasn’t room for respect. I’d seen them flipping from tree branch to tree branch. These guys were gutsy, and maybe even crazy. These were prison yard rules, I realized, and I wasn’t about to be anybody’s punk!

“Gullible? Listen here, Acorn boy…”
He came forward, bringing his pointy little face close to mine, near enough I could smell tree bark on his w arm breath. His voice was low and deadly serious. I was way over my head here, and I knew it was.

“Trying to do you a solid here, son.”

“Do me a favor,” I replied, fighting to hold my crumbling confidence. “Techically you understand that you fall under the category of prey, and lately I’m tired of eating cold hard food.”

He laughed, his round eyes narrowing and dangerous. “Listen here, tough guy. Maybe I got rabies, maybe I don’t. Maybe my palls come down here and even the score. You, you live in your nice warm house, with humans that bring you food. Try digging in the trash, or competing against this lot!” he motioned to the others lined up on a branch. “You’re safe from crows, don’t have to scrap with rats, run on power lines…ever face down a ticked-off raccoon? Naw, didn’t think so.”

He walked around me, giving me a good once over. I kept a wary, and nervous, eye on him

“So you’re the new cat, eh?” It was more of an observation than a question.

“So there was another cat!” I exclaimed. I turned too quickly. The blink of an eye he was up on a rusting yellow birdbath, a paw resting on a metallic hummingbird at the back of the bath.

“Big old female. Didn’t like her much, not like the other one. What’s her name?”

“Smudge?”

“Right,” he said. “The other one was trouble. She didn’t play around, not like Smudge.” He shook his head. “Dangerous that one.”

I came around, but my paws up on the bath. The squirrel backed away a bit, keeping a safe distance between us.

“So what happened to her?”

“Can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I asked. He hoped down and scampered half way across the leaf-strewn patio.

“Same difference.”


Cat Dreams

It was warm on the antique love seat. I was tucked into one corner, my furry back against the arm rest. My head rested firmly against the gold cornucopia-print cushion. Golden light flooded through patio doors, warming my fur, like a mother’s embrace. I glanced to Smudge, warming herself upon the shelf in the window and longed for a bit of feline companionship.

My star-fire green and ochre eyes fought a losing battle with sleep. Through the plants in the window I could see the squirrels in the yard. A flock of excitable sparrows flittered about from the branches of a Maple sapling. My long tail curled up. So much to see and do and chase, but so little energy...

There is a long open stretch of beach along the Lake Superior Shore back home in Michigan. Strewn with driftwood from the island I would scamper down the back steps, across a little stretch of grass and dare the waves washing against the sand. I was little then, tripping and stumbling over these too-big feet. The whole litter was still together; mom, three brothers and four sisters. Dad, mom told us once, had strayed too close to the highway, but most of us believed he was a stray.

So there I was, running along the beach, too small to leave only the lightest of paw prints. The sun was bright, the air crisp and clean, the sky bursting with fat white clouds. On the bank above towered full green pine trees, their peppery perfume filling the air. Beneath a moss log and tiny pale lavender bluebells I rolled onto my back and stretched my paws towards that Spring sky. I wished we would all remain together, each of us kitten growing to have our own litters one day, dozens of us gorging ourselves on holiday meals of fish and field mice and pigeon.

There was a movement on the grassy bank above and just out of sight. I jumped up, playfully arching my back. I fully expected one of the others to come bounding over the edge, hoping to catch me by surprise. I would be ready though, and we would tumble and wrestle upon the beach before finding a cool safe place to nap the afternoon away. Instead I found myself suddenly confronted by 6 of the fattest, mangiest Chicago squirrels I’d ever seen.

“Well, look what we have here, boys,” said the leader, a mook with three long nasty scars along the right side of his face. I guessed it was from a fight with a hawk, by the looks of those ragged scars. Obviously, simply by the fact he was there, the squirrel had prevailed, but it had cost him an eye as well. His reddish-brown fur was filthy. A ragged, semi-hairless tail flipped and flickered behind him. There was a sinister look in his one good eye, and I knew right off this lot was trouble. For their part, the bums behind him didn’t look half as good.

“Runt of the litter, this one is, eh Boss” puked one of the others.

“Don’t hardly seem worth the trouble,” remarked another.

I backed away slowly, as they lined up along the bank. The Boss leaned forward. He reeked of trash. At the water’s edge I stopped, and realized I was trapped and hopelessly outnumbered. I tried to call for help, but it only came out as a whimpering weak little meow.

“Wait until my mom finds out about you clowns!” I fought to sound as tough as I could.

“He’s got moxy!” laughed one of the squirrels, with a nervous twitch of the head and shoulder.

“What are you guys doing here. We got squirrels, decent friendly little red squirrels, not like you gangsters!”

“We’re takin’ over kid. Us Chicago squirrels got to branch out. It’s called marketing, kid.”

“You’ll see, my mom will take you guys apar…” the Boss cut me off.

“So that was your mom, huh kid?” said the Boss.

“What do you mean was?”

With that the Boss stood and rubbed his fat gray belly. Behind him the others tittered and chuckled cruelly. “Your mom? She was delicious!”

I woke with a start, chilled to the bone by that awful dream. It took some time before it left me. I was thinking of mom’s face, and all the other kittens, scattered forever to the winds. I knew in my heart I would never see any of them ever again, at least not in this life. One thing was certain though, in our hearts we would always remain a family…