MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “cat”

Cat on fire

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She sat on the balcony every morning among the plants breathing in the morning dew and fresh air. It felt nice being outdoors, even if this was on the third floor of a city-centre apartment. This was her ‘outside’.

The days passed calmly, as they do for an indoor cat.

But there was one day when something extraordinary happened.

Her housemates left early in the morning to “run errands”, as they told her. They reassured her they would be back soon as they had left their food baking in that square thing in the kitchen that heated up real fast and they called an ‘oven’.

It was hot that day. She realised it, as there was no fresh air, not even in the shade provided by the plants.

And all of a sudden, it happened.

Black smoke began filling up the house and causing an increasingly suffocating atmosphere.

She found it hard to breathe and snuck further behind the pots of the leafiest of plants. It didn’t work much, as the smoke intensified and there was a pungent smell that hurt her nostrils.

After a while, she heard commotion, but it wasn’t from inside the house. Her housemates had not yet returned.

And then, the sirens. Loud and shrieking, piercing her ears.

The door breaking open and five tall men, dressed heavily with helmets and bearing a long rubber hose that began to shoot out water. Voices shouting at all tones all at once, people moving in and out of the house, staring at her hiding behind the pots.

The smoke dispersed but the smell remained. She tried to go into the house to see who these people were and what happened, and that was when her housemates arrived and she could hear their voices break with agony.

One of them picked her up and clenched her in her arms. She said it was to reassure her that everything was all right and she was grateful nothing had happened to her. But the black cat knew that the hug served more as a comfort for her housemate, to loosen the tension and calm her nerves.

She had survived a fire.

To her housemates, she was the luckiest cat alive.

But to her, they were the lucky ones.

White Ideal

©MCD

You don’t need to call him. He comes on his own when he sees you.

You don’t need to tell him. He feels you in your silence.

You don’t need to ask him for attention. He provides it willingly.

The comfort of feeling his heartbeat sync with yours. Of his gaze staring in your eyes. Of his warmth brush up against you.

He is white. Not as snow. But as a fluffy cotton ball.

With patches of grey so you can spot him in the snow.

With green eyes that glisten in the sunlight.

He doesn’t speak a lot. He doesn’t need to. Because he is the type who doesn’t need words or sounds to communicate.

He has a heart bigger than you can imagine. Because no matter how much you push him away, he always comes back as if you never revoked him. And he wants to share his hugs, his love, his warmth. Because he might seem naïve, but he still thinks everyone he meets is as nice and loving as him.

We would all be so lucky to have such people in our lives.

Shame that such traits can only be found in a cat, though.

Unconditional true bonds

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She woke up excited but didn’t know why. It was the third day in a row that little Madeleine woke up before the alarm clock, bright and early without any particular reason. Her nights had been tormented by strange nightmares whose signs she could not read in the morning. But she always tried to retain her optimism, just like her parents taught her. After all, if you smile at life, it will eventually smile back.

In her backyard, the stray cat she had taken under her protection, provided for and fed for the past few months, had a surprise for her: three adorable little kittens. They were all running around playfully in the garden, under the watchful eye of mama-cat.

Madeleine couldn’t help but grin widely at the sight. She was thrilled that her cat family had expanded. It meant more friends, more living creatures with whom to create an unconditional bond.

Mama-cat walked over to where Madeleine was sitting watching them. She meowed and comfortably sat in front of the child’s legs. She began to purr as soon as Madeleine touched her back and began to pet her. A short while after, the three kittens joined in. They were fluffy little creatures, full of awe and excitement with the world.

She looked as they stared into her eyes, their small eyeballs gleaming in the sunlight. If only it were as easy to form unconditional, mutual and lasting bonds with people.

Feline females

©CEAyr

Her name was Saphire because of the colour of her eyes. She was independent, wanted attention but not too much and only on her terms and her mood-swings were unpredictable. If you ignored her, she would find a way to make her presence felt. It usually involved something you held dear.

Last night, she was upset you came in and didn’t devote to her the attention you deprived her of all day. She held that anger until this morning, when you woke up and couldn’t find her.

Until you did. Sitting on your scooter. Waiting. You were supposed to understand.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Cat in a bag

https://www.warrenphotographic.co.uk/photography/bigs/19934-Maine-Coon-Kitten-in-a-Santa-hat-white-background.jpg

He hadn’t been around for days now and Mrs Claus was getting worried. He was the smallest of the litter, although the feistiest one and,truth be told, he was her favourite.

But it was three days now that he had not shown up, not even during feeding times. She had asked his mother and brothers, but would only get a vague reply from his sister. She was probably just asking for more food.

She looked everywhere for him. In the toy factory, in the elves’ dorms, in the sleigh, in the kitchen, in the cupboards, in the sweet shops, everywhere. He was nowhere to be seen. And the worse part was that no-one else had seen him either.

Mrs Claus decided she had to call for reinforcements.

So she told Santa that her favourite kitten had gone missing.

What if he’s been catnapped? He was the cutest of the lot,” she said in despair.

No, no, he is around here somewhere,” Santa tried to reassure her.

They called out his name, rang bells and food plates, but nothing.

They even asked the reindeer, but to no avail.

As snow began to fall heavier outside, Mrs Santa became all the more worried that he was somewhere alone and cold.

But then, just as it happens with all things you look too hard for and then you find them when you stop searching – the little cat appeared on its own.

It was Santa who first spotted him when he saw his toy bag juddering on the sleigh. He knew it was not any of the toy robots, because they had no batteries installed. As he raised the opening of the bag slightly to peek inside, he saw two bright eyes staring back at him. They were accompanied by a faint “meow”. One that Mrs Claus heard, however, and rushed over just in time to see the little lion walk merrily out of the bag, unaware of all the commotion he had caused.

Sometimes it’s the smallest things that cause your heart to skip a few beats. It is only then that  you acknowledge their importance.

Cat attacks

https://www.chewy.com/petcentral/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/kitten-mom-cat-TS-480025920.jpgThe entire house woke up from the shrills of a mother cat in the back yard. Recently, having given birth, the cat was overwhelmed with mood swings and the urge to protect her newborns at every cost.

The kittens had not yet opened their eyes, but their fur had already formed polychromatic waves making them irresistibly cute to anyone who saw them.

The cat raced across the yard, night or day, at the sight of any intruder. She even attached the previous batch of her own kittens out of fear they would harm the new arrivals.

But, as a true cat, she would always welcome a caress, a tender stroke on her head and under her chin, and food, of course. But that was whenever she felt like it.

Because like a true cat, life happened according to her own rules.

Cat prints

http://www.shotleybridgeprimary.durham.sch.uk/wp-content/uploads/sites/151/2017/05/paw-prints.jpgShe may have been sleeping when the human brought the cake in the previous night, but she soon realised there was something going on in the house. Phone calls, secret card writing, the sound of wrapping paper… there was a lot of hassle around.  And it wasn’t easy to lie somewhere undisturbed and out of the way. Plus there was the added annoyance that no one was paying any attention to her.

She meowed a few times, but all the people who had somehow gathered in the house simply ‘shooed’ her away with that irritating high-pitched-supposedly-sweet tone of voice.

Surprisingly, the humans went to sleep early that night. Perhaps they were preparing something for the next day. She had to find out what it was. And most of all, she had to discover what had been snuck into the house.

On the kitchen table, there was something inedible like numbers. It didn’t taste very good with the first lick so she left them there. But how do you get into the fridge. A few days ago, she had found a strange way of opening the fridge door. It had taken a lot of effort. Good thing she had spent most of the day sleeping under the living room table. She had all the energy required to jump up and down until that door finally opened. And… there it was. Right in the middle of the fridge. If she stood on her back legs alone she could see it. It was round and white with a few colours. It seemed creamy. If she could just stick her tongue onto it and taste it. But she lost balance and her right paw fell onto the side of the cake. She barely saw her paw print on the white rim before the kitchen lights were abruptly turned on and someone walked in yawning. She managed to quickly sneak under the table and then run out of the room just as the waking person realised the new print on the cake.

The scream woke the entire house up.

But that didn’t stop the humans from having a very loud and festive birthday party.

The cat spent the day under the bed.

The cat on the pier

http://media.gettyimages.com/photos/view-of-cat-sitting-on-pier-picture-id565807123?s=612x612Hannah was surprised to see it there. It appeared silently right next to her. She didn’t even realise it came. But they always seemed to appear when needed the most. It was usually a dog that care around bouncing all happily without a care in the world. That she expected. They always had a way of cheering you up. Just by looking at them and the way they run around wagging their little tails. Some even look like they’re laughing. It was just impossible to stay mad or upset at the sight of them.

But this, this was strange.

The little cat sat there, straight up, tail wrapped around its front legs. It was fluffy white and seemed indifferent to everything that was going on around it. People tried to call it, but it listened to none.

Then it turned its little head, its small, round, golden eyes reflecting the setting sun’s rays. And it met her gaze. Hannah was dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe it was ever possible to feel such serenity through a simple gaze, and indeed, from a four-footed creature. The cat tilted its head sideways as it continued to stare into Hannah’s eyes.

Hannah took out a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the tears that were still dripping from her eyes. The cat slowly got up and moved towards her, arching its back and beginning to purr. Once close to Hannah it began to brush against her, asking for some patting. Hannah touched its head with the tip of her fingers. With a single move it rotated its head around her hand and moved ever closer, its purr now reverberating on Hannah’s body. It was soothing. The cat managed to divert all of her attention on it that she soon forgot the reason she was so upset.

They sat there for a while, the cat purring at her side, and Hannah patting it, relaxed and calm. They watched the sun set into the sea, and then the cat suddenly got up, stretched and disappeared, as silently and abruptly as it had arrived.

A siren purr

http://cdn.cutestpaw.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/l-a-the-cats.jpgThey found him on the street behind a bush. His faint yet persistent cry acted like a siren call. His eyes had the colour autumn leaves take just before falling off the tree and they radiated a sadness that should not have been there at his age. He was so small he could fit in the very palm of your hand.

It only took a bowl of milk to tame him enough to get close. He needed a petting and a warm hug. Who knows for how long he had been abandoned out there all alone. It wasn’t very cold, but for him it could have well been the middle of winter. Loneliness messes with your senses.

He perched almost immediately in her lap, as if he had found the home he had been dragged away from. Then he started to purr. That soft, constant, vibrating purr that causes a smile to appear on your face and goosebumps to take over your body unconsciously. Because it was a sensation like no other. Knowing that the simplest of things, the minimal of your actions, can cause someone so much happiness.

She soon felt dependent on it. It was the moment she longed for after every day. To sit on the sofa and allow him to settle in his usual – by now – position. And then begin that sweet chime that only a cat can utter.

It’s amazing how such a small thing can take up the most room in your heart.

Because she soon found that she cared more about that feline creature that had so surprisingly yet decisively entered her life, than for some human beings she had known for much longer.

But that was a bit of a problem though. Because for years he had been her companion, her friend, her confidante, her family, her soulmate.

And then one day he left.

As suddenly as he appeared. But far more painfully for her.

On that morning, when his purr ceased to sound, something inside her broke. It is painful losing something you love so much. Especially when he had your entire heart from the moment you saw him. The image of him lying there still could not be erased from her mind. But neither could all the moments spent with him. Those numerous occasions they had experienced together and which she would never change for anything in the world.

His little paws had forever been imprinted on her heart. And that is what she was going to hold on to. That her life had transformed in the most unexpected of ways with his arrival and she had become a better person because of it.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Transformation

(Not) Another regular Friday

http://worksmartlivesmart.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/have-a-bad-day.jpgHer name was Henrietta. It was a straightforward name, albeit a bit irregular for a female. You would think it was easy to remember, and not to be confused. But today when she went two hours in advance of the opening time to pick up the concert tickets for the next day, which she had booked four months earlier, the lady in charge told her she could not find her name on the list. There was a Henry, though, with the same surname, for (weirdly enough) the same tickets. It took 45 minutes to prove she was the Henry, although, the Henry was in fact a Henrietta, who was her.

By the time she returned home, people were already flooding the cafés for their afternoon coffees. She decided to chop some vegetables in order to make a quick salad with some baked beans she was about to boil. Quick, easy, and healthy, she thought. But, alas, her new knives would prove their worth. She nearly chopped off her left index finger together with a slice of tomato. A crimson stream began to flow from that little finger, soon turning five napkins from white to red and refusing to stop. Henrietta rushed to the pharmacy for some first aid. She would have to pay attention to the entire hand now, as the wound was deep and required time to heal.

By the time she was back, the beans were not baked, but burnt. And now she had a black pot to scrub with one hand.

This is when she realized how many things come to us so automatically every day, that we hardly pay any attention to them. For example, how much work that single finger does. How vital it is for the entire hand to function. She noticed how hard it was to do the slightest of things – from getting dressed to washing your hair, to putting on contact lenses – all with one hand.

As the sun set, and calm returned to Henrietta’s apartment, which now smelled of burnt food – she sought solace with Duchess, her fluffy, white Persian cat. But, as her name implied, the feline could not care less for her mistress. So as Henrietta compromised with online videos of cats asking to be cuddled, the power suddenly went out.

For one and a half hours, she sat in the dark in a burnt-smelling home with a bleeding finger and an inconsiderate pet. She was all too happy to go to bed and end this adventurous Friday. It was not so TGIF (Thank God It’s Friday), after all.

 

N.B. Based on a true story.

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