The Cat's Meow

Would you believe me if I told you that a cat changed my life?

Technically it wasn’t the cat, but deciding to follow that cat certainly changed my life. I was walking down the street after finishing work, dragging my feet and wondering just how much longer I could keep doing it. Then I saw it. A beautifully striped ginger cat, with a bowtie collar and a silver tag hanging under the bowtie. The cat was just sitting there, right in the middle of the footpath, seeming to stare at me as I got closer.

It wasn’t until I was only a metre away from it that I stopped to wonder what it was doing there. No houses were nearby, but it looked far too pretty and clean to be a stray. The fact that it hadn’t moved at my approach suggested a familiarity with humans as well. I crouched down, looking into its golden eyes, and stretched out my hand. The cat sat there a moment as if weighing up whether or not I was worthy to approach. I must have passed, because it stood, arching its back and strolling under my palm, pressing its spine along my fingers. The cat turned, rubbing its head into my palm. That gave me a chance to examine the tag for any details. The tag was far more battered and scratched than its owner, with only the name MARVIN barely legible. If there had been an owner’s name or number, it was no longer discernible.

I wondered if the cat had a tracking chip inserted and moved to pick it up. I thought that maybe I could take it to a vet to check but the cat squirmed out of my reach and ran towards a nearby alley. Rather than disappearing down it, the cat sat at the entrance, staring at me once again. Fine, I thought, one more try and then I’ll give it up. I certainly had better things to do than try and catch an animal that may or may not be a stray. Like sleep. Only ten more hours and I would be back at that miserable existence I called employment.

As I crept closer, hand extended as if to offer more pats, the cat waited. Then, just as it was out of reach, it moved away, down the darkened alley. I could see just well enough to tell that the alley was a dead end, with boxes piled high against a chain-link fence. The cat could probably get through those obstacles, though, so my attempts would end at the fence. I kept going, the cat constantly just out of reach, until I was almost at the end.

Suddenly the cat jumped up onto the boxes and lay down. I took another step, then a voice spoke from the dark. “Stop!”

I halted immediately, suddenly realising the situation I was in. Down a darkened alley, one exit blocked and the other likely too far away to reach if trouble found me. I peered into the gloom towards the boxes. I could just make out a figure sitting there, partly because the cat seemed to have draped itself around the person’s shoulders. Hopefully, that was a good sign. Cat people were supposed to be nice, right? Well, unless they were a Bond villain, I guess.

I wanted to say something, to ask what they wanted, but I only got as far as opening my mouth. “What do you think you are doing?” The voice was barely above a whisper, but I suddenly froze, my mouth still wide open. Doing? I wasn’t doing anything. And that, I realised, was the problem. I wasn’t doing anything with my life.

“Do you think you have failed, just because you have got here, doing a job you hate instead of one you love? No! You have survived. You still have time to do something about it, as long as you are drawing breath. Now go!”

I turned, running from the alley as fast as I could. As I fled from the stranger whose only crime was offering me advice, I caught a glimpse of another cat entering the alley. Perhaps my life coach was a homeless person, with cats as his friends. At this moment I didn’t really care. Despite the fact that this person didn’t know me, their words took hold in my mind. I was really going to have to do something about my life before it got to me and I just gave up entirely. As I reached the street, I slowed to a fast walk. The last thing I wanted was for people to think I was mad. As I walked towards home, I made a promise to myself. As soon as practically possible, I would leave my horrible job and make a better life. I shook my head and smiled. A better life, all due to a cat. The irony. I don’t even like cats.

Marvin jumped down from the boxes as the white cat approached. “Why do you do that, Marvin?” She took his place on the boxes, pushing the figure over with a paw. The mannequin fell off the boxes, slumping awkwardly on the ground.

Marvin groaned. “Sylvia! Did you really have to do that? It took me all afternoon to get that thing up there.”

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why you bothered. The advice, sure. Some of these humans are just so miserable that I can see you wanting to help them. But why the mannequin routine? One of these days a human is going to get too close. And then what? They’ll think they’ve gone crazy and are just hearing voices.”

Marvin smirked and jumped back up to sit beside Sylvia. He curled his tail around hers. “Well, my dear, perhaps one day that might happen. But for now, it works. Besides, the only other option I can see is for the humans to find out that a cat can talk. And what human is going to believe that a cat could change their life?”