A Different Kind of Savior

Sara has not been paying attention to me lately. Usually, she came home, put food in my bowl, rubbed my ears, and picked me up, carrying me to the living room to plop me on the sofa. Lately, however, she has been…distant. She comes home, puts food in my bowl, and then goes straight to her room. She doesn’t come out till dinnertime. We live alone in a small apartment because her school is far from her home. She has two siblings, Mark and Eliza, and if I’m being completely honest, without them here, there is a lot more peace and quiet. Since she is alone, though, I have to do my best to take care of her. Like, sometimes, I scratch at the door so that no outsiders, like thugs and intruders, think the house is empty since it’s so quiet. Or other times, I stand by the open window and glare at people as they pass by. Some don’t look up, but those who do avert their eyes and continue walking. Yeah, that’s right. I’m the protector of this house. And nobody will ever mess with my human. But I did that kind of stuff even when Sara smiled all the time and paid attention to me. Now I work overtime because it seems as though she has given up. On what? I don’t know. And I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all.

Yesterday, we seemed to make some leeway, but I’m not sure how much. Before she came home, I was lounging beneath the open window, and the sunlight was tickling my back, making my fur all nice and warm. At 4:00 pm (I keep my eye on the time), she came home like she always does. She slammed her coffee mug on the small round dinner table, poured some food for me in my bowl, and went straight to her room. She did not look at me once. I rolled my eyes. Typical. My eyes darted towards the coffee cup, which was so far off the edge of the table, that it was barely standing upright. I knew what would happen before it did. In a blink of an eye, I jumped over to the table- I could see the mug tipping over in slow-motion-and I pushed the mug to the opposite side of the table with my paw. Unfortunately, this resulted in the whole mug tipping to the other side, and all the leftover coffee drained out, spreading all over the tablecloth, and then dripping its way down it to the floor. If that wasn’t bad enough, the mug made a THUMP sound as it landed on the other side, which brought Sara out of her room. She stared at me. And I stared at her back, not daring to move. I knew it wasn’t really my fault, but I did not look like I was in a good position right now. I risked a small ‘meow.’ And then the yelling started. And in that moment, I knew. I knew that she was not OK. Something was wrong, maybe at school, maybe at home. Because she yelled at me in a way that she had never yelled at me before. And I didn’t like the feeling. I didn’t like it at all. I don’t regret what I did, though. At least she doesn’t have to clean up the scattered remains of her favourite coffee mug. I stayed frozen at the table. Then, just as abruptly as she started to yell, she stopped. And started to cry instead. I blinked. I didn’t want her to cry. She bent down to the floor, her head in her hands, her knees to her chest. I silently hopped off the table, and made my way towards her, apprehensively. I didn’t want to startle her. She looked up suddenly, and I started to back away, but she put up her hand. A desperate invitation. I crept towards her, sliding into her embrace, and she held me, stroking my fur with tears still sliding down her face. I could feel the slight tap tap of the wet droplets as they fell onto my body, but I didn’t mind. She needed this. We sat there for a while, and soon the sitting evolved into a playful back-and-forth. She then took out some contraption, which always distracts me. A tiny, green light comes out of it, and I must follow it- I can’t help but! She moved it around- it was a game to her, but a mission for me. Cruel. Afterwards, we sat down to watch Sara’s favourite movie, The Avengers. She knows the script by heart. In the middle of the movie, just as I was about to doze off, she leaned down and whispered in my ear. She said

“You are my superhero.” Hmm. I chuckled in my mind. She didn’t know the half of it. How I clean up around the house sometimes (to the best of my ability) so that she didn’t have to. How I’ve exterminated a countless number of insects who thought that they could make a living in our home-especially this one moth. He was just so stubborn! I was at it for days. But then again, there are very many things that she does for me, too. Superhero. I like that title. It’s not going to help my ego, but it definitely helped my mood. I was so happy, I started to purr. There’s nothing better than when I can do a meaningful purr. I then thought, ‘you’re my superhero, too,” and my eyes closed. That was yesterday.

Today, she came home, and went straight to her room, again. My heart broke. I thought that after our moment yesterday that we would be back to normal. Ugh. Human emotions are so unnecessarily complex. Now, it’s 5:00 pm, and I’m sitting next to our houseplant that looks like it’s on the verge of death. I lick the leaf. Maybe my wet tongue will make it live longer. Suddenly, Sara comes out of her room. She’d been crying again. I know because there are tear stains on her checks. But at least she’s out of her room. She walks towards me. I feel the tips of my paws leave the floor as she picks me up, and plops me down onto the sofa. She grabs a book off of the shelf, plops down next to me, and starts to rub the back of my ears. So this is how it’s going to be? Whenever she wants me, we’re cuddling, and whenever she doesn’t want me, I roam around the house, like an outcast? My feelings don’t matter? What about when I want attention? What about- no. I stop thinking like that. She’s in pain right now, and she needs me. Her well-being is more important right now than my need for attention. She thinks of me as her superhero. She needs me to be. So I will be. I rest my head on her thigh, and purr. I’ll be her superhero.