It was mid-morning, like any other, I suppose. Quiet, except
for the low hum of such things as the refrigerator and the sporadic rush of air
through the vents that spew heat against the cold. Our relationship is clumsy,
but their consistent, distant droning sound is the only company I have now in
an otherwise empty home. My life has become long, drawn out moments of silence,
sporadically filled with electronic white noise, digital minions occasionally
reporting in for duty.
I sat, slumped back on the cool leather couch to stare at a
blank television screen, wondering what to make of my day. Through the
curtains, beams of sunlight broke through the gaps and reflect off of the
smooth leather and into my eyes. I shift to avoid their sharp, scorning rays,
casting my head to the side away form their judging gaze.
Then I hear it, a groaning vibration. What is that? It’s not
electrical, not mechanical. It is familiar yet physical, inside me. Gazing down
to my sunken stomach, I feel it calling out for relief.
As my melancholy contentment succumbed to hunger, I staggered
to my feet. The cool floor against my feet widened my eyes. I could feel the
uneven wood boards with their worn edges from years of expansion and
contraction, like long drawn breaths inhaling and exhaling with the change of
the seasons. Each one lay uniquely different with patterns and variegated
browns and pumpkin oranges, yet one with the adjoining partner.
En route to the cupboard holding my breakfast, something
dark and unfamiliar stabbed to stop me through my peripheral vision.
There, through the double pains of the kitchen window and across my snow
covered yard he lay out like a drunken man, wheezing on all fours and about to
spill up the contents from the previous night’s jubilee. He was a perfect
contrast against the bright pure snow and his sinister deeds further distancing
himself from innocence. He was like a scrap of coal against a beautiful marble
floor, and equally out of place and unwanted. I froze solid so as not to
frighten him away.
This was not his first time trespassing; the demon chose to
plague me for months. He often appears through the fence, then makes his way to
the neighbor’s house to purge his own hunger and gorge on dog food carelessly
left out to be pillaged. My yard was a feline thoroughfare and like a gas
station poised in-between his destination, he only stopped to use the bathroom.
In the beginning, I tolerated him. Though each time I found
his feces my empathy further waned. My space had become a giant litter box.
You can’t simply kill a nuisance cat. I say that ironically,
because it seems to be the simplest solution. But, you can’t. Well, not
legally, anyway. No, you have to have someone else do it for you; specifically,
animal control has to kill the beast for you. I guess they don’t automatically
kill the beast for you. Maybe they give the intruder a chance to live, though I
can’t imagine anyone adopting such a devilish pest. At the very least, he
deserves to view life from the other side of a steel frame to contemplate his
actions and reform. Only, it is up to me to catch him.
They don’t make it easy, but they make it sound easy enough.
Get some smelly cat food, place it in the trap, set it, then wait for the
animal to go inside, and bring it back to the pound. No problem.
I spent the rest of the week without any luck. The trap, lay
open, impotently attracting nothing. It was cold and useless; a lie.
Now, here I was, so close to the finale. A feeling of morbid
anticipation building inside me as I waited for the impending snap of the steel
door to the cage to, at last, trap its troublesome victim. Yet, nothing
happened. The door remained poised for action. The cat, bent like a hangover. I
stood motionless, fixated on the beast until the grumbling in my stomach awoke
me back to the reason I came to the kitchen.
I moved to open the cupboard, glancing back so as not to miss
the big moment. Then, grabbing a bowl, the cereal, pouring the milk,
and finally sinking a spoon into the cool frothy mix. "Nothing like dinner
and a movie," I thought out loud. A smirk, followed by a warming sense of
guilt began to build inside of me. Was it the thought of his impending death at
my hand, though ultimately at the hand of another, the state, which raised the
humanity in me? Maybe, it was how nonchalantly I was ready to enjoy my
breakfast while witnessing the last moments of his freedom. Should I feel
guilty? I'll never know for each bite of cool Honey Nut Cheerios seemed to
further quench the fire once building inside me so it never came to
flame.
What was it doing? Eating? I've never seen this. Is it
coughing up a hairball? No doubt it is going to puke all over and leave me with
another mess to clean up. I wish it would just get in the stupid trap already
so I can take him to the pound. Then they can deal with him.
The pound. Now that is a place. I once thought to work there.
But, the smell, horrible! It hits you from the moment you walk through the
glass and steel door like stepping into the steam of a hot shower. Then it
slaps you in the face and burns your lungs. Your eyes water and you wonder if
the smell will permeate your clothing. To think, working there would mean
eventually getting so used to that smell that it becomes normal to you.
The bowl rang like a bell as the spoon searched in vain for
another bite. The cage was still empty, well void a cat and full of food, like
my belly. Apparently, the cat's belly was full as well. It had no need of the
Mahi-mahi tuna, or dried cat niblets. It paid no heed to the smelly Friskees
cat food. It ignored the scent of my variety buffet, and sat content and
uninterested. Or, maybe he was simply leery of the trap. Had it been caught
before?
My anticipation rose as the devil stared at the cage. He
paused, as if seeing it for the first time. Then, as if he couldn't see it at
all, he walked by and headed through the fence to harass another
neighbor.
Deflated, I rinsed my bowl, and roughly placed it in the
dishwasher rack. Notably my footsteps were harder and frustrated as I made my
way to the couch. The floor gave way to creek and moan as it disapprovingly
cried out against the unnecessary abuse.
Shaking my head as I exhaled, my aggravation building, I
slumped back into the couch. Cool and comforting, it hugged me back as if to
say everything will be all right in the end. Then suddenly I realized, I was
still hungry.
