Conference misery::feline_v1

2531.0. "A Cat Story" by NZOV01::PARKINSON (Reunite Gondwannaland!) Thu Jun 01 1989 06:17

    Attached is a cat story called 'Home is Where'. I feel it says some
    interesting things about cats, their relationships with people,
    and their "homing" instinct. I'd be interested in your reactions,
    but mostly I just hope you enjoy reading it!
    
    Shayne (New Zealand).
    
    

                                    Home is Where

     

     Sam stirred from his light slumber, shifted position a little, started to

     drift back into sleep, then abruptly changed his mind. He jumped from the

     sofa and landed lightly on the floor. He stretched incredibly, then rapidly

     turned to bite at the base of his tail as he felt a slight itch. The itch

     eased, he had to smooth down with his tongue the fur he had ruffled. That

     led the big tabby into a thorough all-over grooming, including the awkward

     back-of-the-neck area and the fiddly bits between his toes. Satisfied at

     last, he stretched once more and padded into the kitchen.

     

     The woman was there, playing with eating-things on the bench that Sam never

     jumped on when the people were in the room. He had a vague association of

     loud noises and slaps with that bench. The woman spoke to him. Sam liked

     the woman. She had a soft voice and gentle hands, and a way of stroking him

     in just that place under his chin. She usually fed him too. Now she just

     cooed and clicked at him, and Sam miaowed back to her in greeting, putting

     his tail stiffly upright to show his pleasure. He walked over to the door,

     sat by it and looked at the woman enquiringly. She opened it and Sam

     sauntered down the steps. The woman had not offered him any food, but he

     was not worried. Sam was going hunting.

     

     There was a part of the garden under a tree where birds gathered, looking

     for insects. Sam stopped when he saw three pecking busily. He slunk along

     the ground a short way, then flattened himself on the grass and flowed

     closer to the birds. They were only metres away, getting nearer and nearer.

     Sam's eyes widened in excitement, and the fur along his spine stood up

     slightly. Soon, soon now he could spring. Just a little closer... and then

     he could stand the waiting no longer, and he sprang at his prey in an ill-

     timed rush. The birds erupted skyward in an indignant flurry, then settled

     on the branches of the tree. They looked down in one-eyed suspicion at Sam,

     as he stared balefully at them. He turned in disgust and walked away to a

     sunny spot on the concreted patio. But the sound of the birds chirping to

     one another as they settled on the ground once more was too much for Sam to

     bear. He pressed himself to the ground and tried once more to approach them

     invisibly. He got a little closer this time, but at the moment before his

     final spring he got confused over which bird to leap at, and ended up in a

     birdless space as the creatures once again took to the branches. Sam went

     back to his concrete and sat watching until the birds again became

     confident enough to settle on the ground. He started yet another stalk, but

     this time he couldn't control his excitement and after a few seconds he

     broke into a clumsy, conspicuous dash, which immediately alerted the birds.

     After looking around to see if anyone had been watching his thwarted

     attempts (Sam hated being laughed at), he sauntered back to his sunny spot

     and dropped flat. He curled up into a more comfortable position, and

     prepared to absorb the pleasant warmth. Only the slight switching of his

     tail and the occasional flicking of his ears betrayed any interest in the

     birds, once more chirping loudly and pecking at insects in safety. Sam was

     not a good hunter.

     

     He was roused abruptly by the sound of the woman's voice making calling

     noises. He sat up and listened for a moment, then stretched luxuriously. It

     felt like eating-time, so he got up, padded to the door, rushed through it,

     and rubbed rapturously against the woman's legs, miaowing desperately. She

     put mushy meat in one bowl and milk in the other. Sam nibbled at the meat

     and lapped delicately at the milk. He spilt a little milk, and had to lick

     it from the floor. When the bowls were empty, Sam looked enquiringly at the

     woman. No more food was offered, so Sam wandered into the lounge and sat on

     the rug. He could feel dribbles of milk around his mouth, so he carefully

     washed his face with his paw until it felt clean. The washing continued to

     the top of his head, then the back of his neck, then turned into a full-

     scale bath. By that time Sam was tired and replete, so he curled up into a

     neat ball and dozed peacefully.

     

     He woke when the man came home. The man had a louder voice than the woman,

     and he did not pet Sam as often. But sometimes he would lie on the floor

     with Sam and play wonderful games with pieces of string and pencils. Sam

     got up and rubbed against his legs. The man stroked Sam, but he did not

     play any games that evening.

     

     The man and woman ate, then they sat in front of the box that flashed

     lights and made noises. Sam got bored and, wide-awake now, padded about in

     the darkened parts of the house. He found a pile of the boxes that had

     started appearing in the house. They were heaped on one another

     haphazardly, with a small one at the bottom of the pile and larger ones

     jutting out at odd angles above it. Sam wanted to have a look in the very

     top one. He leapt up to it, and suddenly the world crashed around him. Sam

     picked himself out of the rearranged pile just as the man and woman rushed

     through the doorway. The man started shouting at Sam, but the woman stopped

     him with loud hissing noises. Then the small one in the next room started

     yowling. The woman rushed towards the noise, while the man picked Sam up,

     carried him to the back door, thrust him outside and shut it with a crash.

     

     Sam was somewhat confused by all the fuss, but it didn't take him long to

     regain his composure. The darkness stirred his buried nocturnal instincts,

     and he spent some time prowling round the darkened garden, sniffing out

     interesting smells in the shadows. He could almost smell a mouse, but the

     scent was faint and old. There were no birds, and Sam soon became bored.

     Habit took over from instinct, and he felt sleepy. He found his way into

     the garage and spent the rest of the night sleeping on the car, leaving

     dusty pawprints on it in the process.

     

     Next morning Sam went inside when the man opened the door to leave,

     slipping through the man's legs and rushing straight for the kitchen. The

     woman gave him some milk. He lapped it, then went to the lounge and, after

     a wash, curled up in the sunlight from the window. Later the woman carried

     the small one out and put it on the floor, then went into the kitchen. The

     small one did not move on two legs like the man and woman, but dragged

     itself around on all four. It crawled over to Sam and pulled his tail. It

     pulled hard. Sam moved, pulling his tail out of the small one's grip. The

     small one moved closer. It poked at Sam's eyes. Sam moved his head. The

     small one climbed on to Sam, and lay down on top of him. Sam couldn't

     breathe. He couldn't move. He tried to drag himself away, but the small one

     was too heavy. He let out a frantic miaow, reached out his paw, and gave

     the small one a light scratch. The small one yowled. The woman rushed in.

     She move the small one to the other side of the room, and gave it toys to

     play with. Sam stretched out in the sun, but kept a wary eye on the small

     one.

     

     In the middle of the day the man came home. Sam knew this was strange

     because the man didn't usually come until after Sam had been fed. Two other

     men came into the house too. They had loud, booming voices and were very

     big. One of them reached down and stroked Sam under the chin. Sam rubbed

     around his legs, but got no further notice. Then something very strange

     started to happen. The men were carrying all the furniture out of the

     house. Sam tried to investigate. He jumped on to the bed, but was pushed

     off. He rubbed around the friendly man's legs as the man went through the

     door. The man dropped the chair he was carrying and shouted at Sam. Sam

     moved to a quiet corner. He watched the men carry out the furniture, then

     load small things into boxes and carry them out. After a while Sam got

     bored. He padded to the door, but before he could get out the woman picked

     him up, put him in another room and shut the door. Sam miaowed indignantly

     at the door, but got no reaction, so he settled down to wait for someone to

     remember him.

     

     After a long time the banging and thumping stopped. Sam's door opened and

     the woman came in. She picked Sam up and stroked him soothingly. She

     carried Sam outside and down the path. Sam was suspicious. He squirmed, but

     the woman held him tightly. She took him into the garage. She opened the

     door of the car, sat down in the front and put Sam on the back seat. The

     man and the small one were already in the car. Sam liked the car. It was

     good to sleep on, and he liked to jump inside it when the door was left

     open. He had used to like sleeping under it, but once it had roared at him

     and almost rolled over him. He'd never slept under it since then.

     

     Now the car roared and started moving. Sam miaowed loudly. The car kept

     moving. It turned corners. It started going faster. Sam panicked. He sank

     his claws into the seat and miaowed furiously. The woman tried to stroke

     him and hold him, but he struggled away from her. The small one started

     yowling. Sam kept miaowing in panic, and sinking his claws deeper into the

     seat.

     

     The trip seemed to go on forever. Sam thought he would never get out. He

     spent the whole journey miaowing piteously and clawing the seat, while the

     small one howled in unison. Finally, when Sam had given up hope, the car

     stopped in front of a house. The man and woman got out. The man carried the

     small one and the woman carried Sam. They went into the strange house, and

     the woman put Sam down on the floor. Sam wandered about the room sniffing.

     There were many strange smells, but some familiar ones as well. The same

     sofa was there, and some of the piled boxes that he had grown used to, but

     Sam could smell that strange people had been in here recently.

     

     The woman took hold of Sam. She put greasy stuff on his paws. It felt

     terrible. Sam struggled away. He stared resentfully at the woman and washed

     the greasy stuff off. It tasted rather nice. When his paws were clean he

     gave himself a quick all-over wash, then started to explore the room some

     more. But the woman picked him up and put him out the door. Sam was

     surprised, but decided to explore the strange garden.

     

     It was dusk, and Sam padded about in pools of shadow. The smells were all

     unfamiliar, and Sam's hair started to rise as the feeling of strangeness

     grew. He growled softly under his breath. This was an unfriendly place.

     

     Suddenly Sam caught a stray scent on the breeze that reminded him of...

     reminded him of home. He felt out around himself. He could sense his home -

     he was aware of it, and was sure that if he followed his sense he could

     find his way back there, away from this strange place the people had

     brought him to. He got up, and prepared to take the long lonely journey.

     

     But just as he reached the footpath the door opened. A pool of warm yellow

     light spilled out around the woman standing in the doorway. She called out

     to Sam in her gentle voice, and he could smell the food in her hand. Sam

     took one last look in the direction of his old home, and then ran towards

     the doorway of his new one.
    

    Very delightful reading and extremely observant!
    
    It does bring up the point of moving with cats. I've done it many
    times and we never had any problems, but we did never let the cats
    out the first day.
    
    There is a saying that cats belong to the house they live in, but
    I think that depends on how attached they are to "their" people,
    and if they really ARE, they will be no trouble to be moved.
    
    Rolf (Brazil)
                                        
    
    

    
          That was delightful!   How accurate a viewpoint from the cat's
    way of seeing the whole situation.  Thanks for taking the time to put
    it in.
    
                                 Denise

    Thank you, Rolf and Denise. Your comments were so kind that it's
    made me brave enough to reveal...
    
    I wrote it myself!
    
    Glad you enjoyed it.
                
    
    Shayne (New Zealand)

    Shayne,
    
    You wrote it yourself??!!!!  Wow!  I'm impressed; it's a great story!
    I even told a friend about it over the weekend.
    
    Please enter more.  
    
    Jill
    

    Thanks, JIll!
    
    I wrote this story several years ago. I sent it to a few mags, but
    it was rejected. I put it in here thinking at least I would have
    a few appreciative readers (which I obviously have!).
    
    I sent a copy of it to English 'Cat World', but after I'd sent it
    I read that 'Cat World' never publish fiction, so I thought that
    was a waster of time.
    
    Yesterday I got a reply from 'Cat World'. Thinking "here we go, another
    rejection" I opened the envelope... to find... they've accepted
    it!!! What a thrill - my first piece of published fiction (I've
    had a couple of computer articles published before). It will certainly
    encourage me to write more felinalia, fiction and non-fiction.
    
    Thanks for your interest.
    
    Shayne (New Zealand)

    Shayne,
    
    This is a great story.  I told my SO and another friend about it.
    It had me smiling.  Please keep entering more. 
    
    Congratulations, on getting published!!!  WAY TO GO!!!!!!  8^D
    
    Roslyn, who's just catching up

    Let me join in with my congratulation Shayne, 
    
    Keep at it !
    
    Rolf

    Good on ya, Shayne!  And as any decent cat would know, that wasn't
    fiction!
    
    Mary