Felis catus

Humans tend to overinflate their own intelligence leading to numerous scientific claims and discoveries that the human brain is capable of complex thought and feeling, something other species have apparently not achieved. Humans are wrong, of course.

Felis catus, also known as the domestic or house cat is far superior in intelligence, a well-kept secret among felines worldwide. My ancestors, Felis lybica came close but evolution will stop with me because I have perfected it.

My humans have been trying for the past ten minutes to trick me into my cat carrier. Unbeknownst to them, I am aware that we are going to the veterinarian however, I am reluctant since I am in perfect health and there isn’t a general checkup due for another few months. I’ll humour them but know this, if a cat rolling its eyes was possible, I would have seen my brain by now. Contrary to popular belief, cats do feel love and as dimwitted and frustrating as they can be, I love my humans. I will allow myself to be put into the carrier but only because in the past few weeks they have been unnecessarily stressed - probably because of all the strange people walking in and out of the house, stealing all my humans’ belongings and storing them in giant brown boxes.

Car rides are uncomfortable at best and downright nauseating at worst. Many a time have I spewed up acidic bile from the depths of my stomach, an experience I would not like to repeat again so I will distract myself by watching fluffy trees fly past our car through the window.

Wait, is that the veterinarian’s office speeding by so quickly my eyes almost didn’t register it? Maybe this is a new route? Something squirms in my belly as the minutes tick by into hours.

The car is stopping. But why? There’s nothing but barren land as far as the eye can see. I can hear the car door opening as my human’s hand reaches towards the carrier entrance. Something feels wrong and I can’t help shrinking back into the carrier. I am trembling as every hair on my body stands up. I feel something as my eyes widen and teeth bare, something uncharacteristic. Fear.

Liquid terror courses through my blood in a cold rush. My human fights to drag me out of the carrier as I thrash around and try to wrench myself free. I am thrown across the road and I land heavily on my back before rolling onto my feet. My human is shouting at me and waving his arms around harshly as I pant, rooted to the spot unable to move. Eventually he gets back into the car and as the vehicle’s painful noise and stench fill the air it occurs to me that I mustn’t get left behind. Before I can even lift a paw, the car is screeching away and I am left alone choking on smoke.

Why would they leave me here? In the middle of dusty empty nothing? Maybe it’s a test? To see if I would survive if I ever became separated from them. Of course! I can pass any test easily, a rude way to enact it if my throbbing spine is any indicator but nevertheless, I will prove my capability to them. Logically, they will probably circle back at some point and drive home so my task must be to find my way back to the house and meet them there.

Throughout history, cats have had incredible survival instincts and have spent thousands of years honing and perfecting their skills. Theoretically, finding my way back home is simple as I have the genetics of my ferocious ancestors. Fighting, hunting, travelling - all abilities that supposedly come naturally to cats like me. Theory is wrong, I am not that cat.

It has been three days since my assessment began and I have never felt worse. My lithe body is exhausted and starving, my paws are cracked and bloody and I have never once faced dehydration of this magnitude. Clinging to the edge of the road so as to follow it home seemed a good idea at the time but maybe I should reconsider. The forest to my right wails at night while grumbling quietly during the day. Strange mixes of scents demand my attention and naturally, the unknown smells pique my curiosity. Out of caution I have refrained from stepping paw away from the road but I fear the growling of my stomach drowns out the foreboding of the forest.

As quietly as I possibly can, I pick my way through the forest floor as the road grows ever smaller behind me. Waves of tantalizing scents wash over me and lure me deeper in with the promise of small critters and rodents. Two clumsy hunting attempts later, a squirrel and a mouse trot along happy to see another day. The forest chitters and cackles, mocking me as quarry after quarry slips through my claws. Hateful thoughts swirl through my head when I finally decide to just pick a spot hidden by leaves and shadows and wait as the sun falls, plunging the surroundings in beautiful shades of orange and purple.

Eventually a pigeon sits in front of me about a meter away from my paws and my whiskers twitch as I contemplate the best method of catching it. Killing may be wrong by human standards but to cats, death is a part of life and a necessity to survive. After stilling my body completely, I tense my muscles and leap out of my hiding spot. The pigeon startles and flaps its wings frantically but for once I am faster. Hanging limply in my jaws, the dead pigeon barely lasts two minutes before I have devoured every last scrap. The feathers catch in my teeth in a way that kibble never has but I barely notice as a cruel pride blooms in my chest. I have never caught my own meal before and dare I say it tastes better than anything I’ve ever had. The pride is enough to chase away the eeriness of the forest as I curl up protected by the undergrowth and darkness. This test will not beat me and my humans’ loving faces are the last thing I see before sleep takes me.

A few weeks have gone by; I have tried to keep track of time by counting the sunrises but after week one, numbers became muddy. I have become slightly more proficient at hunting, but the natural grace and ease of Felis lybica eludes me. Perhaps I am not the perfect form of evolution I believe myself to be?

Jagged ribs and bones protrude from flesh that even my once sleek silver fur now matted grey cannot hide. I have lost weight, that much is obvious but less noticeably, my fur has started to fall out in small clumps and my focus is lacking. Every day starvation tears my stomach in two and these days I am grateful for any shred of food or puddle of water I happen to come across.

A crow sits on the branch above me as I head through the forest - always parallel to the road. I can feel its beady eyes dissecting every inch of my soul; it knows I don’t belong here but really what choice do I have if I ever want to see my humans again. Although, I am starting to wonder why they haven’t come looking for me considering I’ve been gone for weeks.

“Cat!” it calls out to me. I look up to find a mischievous glint in its eyes as it glares down at me.

“What brings a piteous creature like you into the woods?”

“Piteous!” I hiss vehemently, “I am far superior to you, pigeon. I am nature’s most vicious specimen, capable of wiping that smug look off your face in a single swipe and devouring you whole.”

A harsh laugh snaps out of the crow as I lash my tail below him.

“Yes, cats are dangerous but you,” its voice lowers, “You are clearly used to living a pampered, frivolous life.”

The crow cocks its head, “What happened? Your human family finally realised a cat is but a desperate flea in their lives and threw you out?”

My eyes widen while my heart beats erratically in embarrassment. The vague feeling that I have lost stirs within me but I ignore it in favour of defending myself and the humans.

“They would never abandon me!” I argue, my fur prickling with unease, “This is just a test, to see if I can take care of myself.”

That seems to shut the crow up, its beak agape while I grin victoriously. My grin falls as it cackles suddenly startling back to life. The cruel sound from the depths of its body doesn't stop for minutes until it finally catches its breath, gasping and spluttering.

“You actually believe that,” it chuckles, “Oh, poor little kitty, lost and alone. No one to love you, nowhere to call home.”

Its morbid song echoes in my head. Something is making the forest close around me so I sprint away before I suffocate. I pant frantically; the edges of my vision blur with hysteria while the crow flies high into the sky, still singing.

I rush through leaves and bush for what feels like hours, barely noticing the trees thinning around me until I break out of the tree line. As I double over catching my breath, I notice sunlight reflecting brightly off pale houses and red rooftops. Humans! My ears perk up at the sound of high-pitched childish voices and my tail lifts in the hope that I am almost back home. My perilous journey can finally end.

The suburbs I had stumbled into a couple weeks ago were not familiar to me and I was forced to continue onward. My initial understanding of humans and their love to serve and coddle cats was fractured when a group of humans cornered me in an alleyway and kicked me around. I meowed, growled and hissed - anything to communicate that I didn’t like what they were doing. After a few more minutes of their brutish antics, I understood that they knew I was in pain and they just didn’t care.

I managed to escape and I hid for a day in the branches of a great oak. This was the first time I had experienced cruelty from humans. Or was it? Doubt churned in my gut as I remembered the crow’s words from before. It really didn’t seem fair for my humans to test me this way.

Sunrise after sunrise, my belly grows ever emptier. I am not safe and I cannot stay in this suburb. I must move on if I ever expect to survive. I make my way through houses by slinking forward only in the cover of darkness and finding bushes or dogless gardens to hide in during the day.

Houses start to become sparser than trees and human voices fade into distant memories. Another few days and I am once again in a forest albeit less dense than the one before. Birds chirp around me and I manage to catch a robin fat off the seeds of thriving greenery. There is a stark contrast between the now scorching days and the cool beginning of spring when I was thrown out of the car. I have estimated that roughly two to three months have passed. The sound of gentle rushing water reaches my ears before the scent of cats hits my nose. Stalking carefully, I make my way over to what sounds like a stream and peer around a clump of ferns keeping me hidden. Three cats laze about in a small clearing under broken patches of sunlight. A brook borders the clearing - the culprit of the bubbling water.

One of them, a ginger with white paws, sniffs the air and turns to look at the ferns.

“Step into the light,” it says.

Caught, I guiltily make my way from behind the leaves trying to keep my fur flat and non-threatening.

“Friend or intruder?” the brown tabby nearest to me asks.

I feel uncomfortable as I answer, “Friend.”

This seems to please them as they close their eyes again and soak up the sunlight.

Only the third cat, pitch black, watches me with keen green eyes.

“Stay a while,” the black cat offers.

My first instinct is to protest and keep going but my legs ache and suddenly the idea of lounging in the sun and a cool drink sounds immensely appealing.

I stayed with these cats for 2 more weeks.

My failure to complete the task my humans had set for me simmers in my bones as I stalk a rabbit with Ginger. Ginger slowly circles around and waits on the opposite side as I get ready to pounce, rabbit between us. The rabbit bolts upright as if sensing its imminent death but before it can spring away, Ginger has leapt out of the bushes with a terrifying yowl. Predictably, the rabbit launches itself into my direction and I shoot towards it, killing it in one bite.

I have become a much better hunter with the others’ teachings. They praise my improved skills while the four of us share the rabbit and a sparrow that Tabby caught. While I feel a sense of belonging and strong affection for this ragtag group of strays who have made me feel safer than I have in months, I cannot shake the memory of my old family which is what motivates me to say my goodbyes to these cats.

Black, Ginger and Tabby shoot uneasy looks at each other before settling on vaguely pitying expressions.

“They abandoned you,” Black says. My thoughts flash to the crow. Oh, poor little kitty, lost and alone. No one to love you, nowhere to call home.

“They were cruel and you didn't deserve to be thrown away like that. We want you here,” Tabby adds.

Waiting for the indignation that never comes I sigh; I am tired of this same argument. If I have to hear their reasoning one more time I will stay because deep down I know they might be right.

“I have made up my mind. I recognise this place now; my old home is only a couple days away from here.” I have to be sure.

I turn to leave and Ginger’s voice calls out, “They never waited for you but we will.”

I don’t look back. I don’t stop walking.

The general consensus from most humans is that cats are aloof, unfeeling. I think of this as my heart shatters into a million pieces. Two pairs of amber eyes and one green flash through my mind as I try to ignore the pang in my chest at who I am leaving behind – of their steady presence and cheerful conversation. I push back all feelings of sour regret as I steadily make my way onward. The sun sets twice before I clear a steep hill covered in wildflowers, finally spotting a remote house down below.

After great struggle and doubt, clinging to the small glimmer of hope I had left, I feel a wave of nausea overcome me as I look upon my old home. The humans are gone; the house has been overrun by vines and weeds.

They left me. All this time. There was no test, no trial. The crow was right. The cats were right. Emotions overcome me and I shred anything in sight, anything near me. Plants, grass, plastic, soil, old pieces of wood. I fight invisible enemies until it hurts to breathe and the anger has seeped out of me. I don’t even know why I feel so intensely because when I really let myself think about it, I knew they would be gone even as I traipsed through forests, roads and mazes of houses.

Nature’s greatest triumph, pathetically watching as my old home rots and disappears before my very eyes. The pinnacle of cat evolution, unable to keep my family’s love.

I fall asleep, my heart sore and wake up the next morning to dewy grass and fluttering insects. The sorrow that had consumed yesterday has faded into a strange sort of peace. I had secretly understood since I left those three cats that it would end like this. In a way, I accepted it; for whatever reason the humans abandoned me and I deserved better.

As I rise and gaze at my old house one last time, I think of the cats I met. For the first time in many months, I feel real hope growing in my body. It starts at my chest and flows to my paws, my nose, my ears and the tip of my tail. I feel no doubt when I think of the bubbling stream and dappled clearing. Ginger said they would wait for me. I believe it.

Tail held high and a dreadful weight now lifted from my shoulders, I begin the two-day journey back to my new family.