Alanna and the White Wall Place

It has been 163 days since I have seen outside these walls. The white that surrounds me is something like a jail. 

It is, however, a contrast to the darkness of Before, when she rarely flipped on the lights, the curtains pulled tight to lock out the sunshine. Food was scattered across countertops on our best days, competing with my brothers on every other one for each morsel that sustained us.

Sound had hummed from the box with the moving humans on it, unknown voices filling the space around us. That was where she spent most of her time, with the people we never knew, but whose voices we came to recognize over time. The humans in the Humming Box didn’t know us. To the contrary, they seemed terribly inept at paying attention to anything but themselves, but we got to know them and their drama, their voices becoming a soundtrack to our days.

When she spent her time there, on the couch as she watched the Humming Box, she usually had food with her, more than what she gave the rest of us. She did not like to share.

Neither did my brothers.

The days had passed by, each running into the other, until one day there was a knock at the door. Somehow, people were on the other side. I couldn’t understand, at first, how they escaped the Humming Box, or what made them see outside of their own lives to bring them to the front stoop. I eyed the brightness outside warily at first, peeking out from behind the sofa, until I heard an unfamiliar chirp that made my entire body stand at attention.  

The new humans closed the door after my youngest brother tried to run out to find the source of the chirping noise. That day, with their serious faces on, they had loaded each of us into a moving jail. Until finally, we arrived here, at the White Wall Place.

“I think today’s the day, Charley,” Alanna says in a singsong voice, breaking the otherwise monotonous loop of my confinement. Alanna is the name on the tag that she wears every time she visits me in the White Wall Place, and the other humans here, who also wear name tags, call her that too. Names are a weird phenomenon I don’t quite understand. Maybe they wear them on tags so they don’t forget their names. I’ve looked before and was unable to find one on my body, however, there is one affixed to the outside of my cell.

Before I arrived here, the human that sat in front of the Humming Box never called me anything. I’m not sure why Alanna calls me Charley now, or how she dicovered that is my name, but she says it with a brightness that lures me closer to the edge of the cage.I sit dutifully on the other side, eyes fixed on her as I wait.

Sometimes, if I’m lucky, Alanna lets me roam outside in the room. I hear the metal lock slide out of place, and I tilt my head as I study her. Alanna smiles, scratching my head where I like it most. I can’t help myself and lean into her touch, greedily soaking up each morsel of affection she gives to me.  

She steps back then, smacking her lips together. “You hungry?”

What a ridiculous question, I think. 

I jump down, following her to the other side of the room where I hear the sound that I crave most: the lid of a can peeling back. I know what it will reveal when Alanna sets it down; a gravy covered feast, just for me. I lap it up, savoring each and every swipe of my tongue. In my life, in the place Before, we had never eaten like this. Never a small feast just for me. 

Usually this is the point where she cleans my jail, then moves on to whoever my newest neighbor is. They don’t typically last very long, especially the kittens. Sticky fingers of small humans point at their freshly cleaned cages, excited sounds coming from their mouths.

The cycle continues on.

The same thing happened to my brothers. One day they were here, the next they were loaded back into the moving jail. The strangest part about it all was they seemed happy to go, to leave the safety of the White Wall Place and its gravy-filled cans.

I was sad to see them go, but I was too naive, at first, to realize they would never return. In the following months there would be countless smaller and considerably cuter tenants that occupied the space where they once existed. For a time, I lost interest, even where eating was concerned. I didn’t understand how the absence of someone you love could completely consume you, swallowing up every ounce of life you had to offer.

That was before I knew who Alanna was. On one of the worst days that followed my brothers’ departures, I heard hushed tones. Before long, Alanna was in front of my cage. She wordlessly unlocked it, offering a few tentative pets before picking me up and taking me with her to her desk. She did it again the next day, petting me and talking to me until I began to eat again.

Today, she takes me to a room I don’t recognize. There aren’t any other cats here either, which is strange. It’s just a couple of chairs, one already occupied by a human I don’t know. She has wire-rimmed eyes, hair a shade of gray that is a few shades lighter than my fur. A soft smile that somehow reminds me of Alanna.

“Mama,” Alanna says, sitting in one of the empty seats, and petting me as she shifts me into her lap. “This is Charley.”

“I've heard so much about you. I feel like I already know you.” 

Well that makes one of us.

“He’s a little shy, but he'll definitely warm up to you if he's given the chance. He’s been passed up a lot because of that, and because he's a little older.” 

“Oh, don’t I understand that, Charley,” Mama says with a small shake of her head.

“You can pet him if you want. He’s friendly.” Alanna looks down at me, continuing the soothing motion, not that I appreciate the open invitation for Mama to do the same. “Don’t let the grumpy face fool you.”

“I don’t need to pet him to know. He’s stolen your heart and he’s been passed up over and over again, at no fault of his own. After the life he’s had, he deserves a home. I could certainly use someone to keep me company. Plus you can visit us any time you like.”

Alanna tells Mama she needs a few minutes to get everything together, and she takes me with her to her desk, setting down a portable jail beside it which I eye with hesitance. Alanna reassures me with snuggles after she finishes the paperwork.

“I can’t believe you’re getting adopted. Finally. You’re going to be so spoiled and have a beautiful life… even if Mama isn’t quite ready for how messy your life is.” She kisses the top of my head before moving me towards the portable jail, the one that I’ve been so fearful of.  

I don’t know what many of the words mean, most of all what home is. However, the soothing cadence of Alanna’s tone sends me into a low purr. If she tells me I’m going to have a beautiful life with Mama, I believe it too.