Cats For Freedom

Right about now, I was living my childhood dream;binge watching a show while writing a story and eating a bunch of snacks. The best part? No man, one cat. Also, please don't judge me. My eleven-year-old self was living in the moment. I wasn't thinking about who I wanted to be in ten years quite a lot. As lazy as it might sound, doing all of this with my cat Lila at my side was perfect.

However, this comfort had to end, as I had to wait tables at Denny's Diner the next morning. This job was bland, but it provided for Lila and I. So, I brushed my teeth and got to bed with Lila by my side.

I woke up to notice Lila's disappearance. This was normal, as she often woke up earlier than me to look out the window at the street filled with people, all tiny ants from the tenth floor of the apartment we lived in. I always wondered why Lila stared out the window, but I came to the conclusion that cats do what cats do and that's it. I don't think there is a valid explanation.

So, I did my daily morning routine and kissed my cat goodbye. After that, I drove to Denny's Diner.

Today wasn't a special day for the most part. No promotion. I waited tables, one at a time. "Hi, and welcome to Denny's Diner. Can I offer you a drink?" was what I said quite a lot. One kid got nasty with me. They said, "You don't think I know we're at Denny's Diner-whatever your name is-Haley Mear? Obviously I know." His parents chimed in, scolding him about how he treated me and how he should say sorry. He never actually apologized, so they left the diner.

So, over all, I was having a boring day. That is why I was looking forward to seeing Lila. She was practically all I had. She lit me up in an instant just by being around her. At 6 PM-ish, I got my paycheck for the week and got to my car. The paycheck was a little bigger than normal, so I could pay for my apartment rent and have an extra fifty dollars to spend on whatever. Now I could see my cat and have good news to tell her. Even better. For those reasons, I went a little over the speed limit when I drove home. And I'm not the type of person to do that.

I finally got to my apartment building after looking restlessly for a spot. I parked two blocks down my apartment after looking for fifteen minutes. Happy that I would finally see my cat, I looked at my paycheck, smiled, and walked up the cement steps leading toward the grand front doors of the building. I took the minute-ride up to the tenth floor. I went to open the door, but the door was interestingly cracked open.

Lila! Could she have run out? At that thought, I ran inside. I didn't see her at the window like I always did! I was accustomed to her disappearance, but the front door was open. That was a bad sign. I checked every nook and cranny of the house after that, including the fridge's freezer. However, I found no cat. I made a second round.

"Lila! Lila! Are you there?' I chanted. I second-checked the cushions and under the couch. Not there. I second-checked her litter box. Not there. I second checked the kitchen cabinets. All of them. Still not there. This process went on forever. I tried to have a positive attitude. She's here somewhere. She would be way too chicken to actually leave the apartment unattended, I thought. But, then again, why did she always look out the window? Was she not happy here? I looked around. I saw pictures of me and my friends, almost all of them taken with Lila. I also saw her litter box, decorated in pink glitter, the color glitter her whiskers pointed to herself. I also saw her food and water bowls, customized by me with her name on it given to her for her birthday. Did she not like all of this?

It hurt me to suspect this. Did I annoy her? While several questions swirled through my mind, I had dinner. It was a lonely dinner, unaccompanied by the sweet purring of a cat. It was a lousy one, too. Lost in depression, I just made some microwave pizza. I knew it would turn out with a rubbery texture (it did), but I didn't want to put the effort into using the stove after my loss.

Sitting on the couch didn't even make me feel better. It’s cushions usually made me feel comfortable and forget all my thoughts, but this time, it didn’t. In fact, it made me sadder. Doing what I always did every night reminded me of Lila. I always did these things with Lila. The worst part was, Lila's fur was still where she always sat on the couch. At this sight, I couldn't take it anymore. This was too much. Without stopping in the bathroom to brush my teeth, I ran to bed. Hoping tomorrow I would find my cat, I cried myself to sleep.

That night, I had a dream. In that dream, all of my past pets were alive; my first pet, a dog named Hugo; my second pet, a fish named Billy; and my third pet; Lila. I cried when I saw her. We ran to each other. Then, I had a group hug with all of my past pets, including Billy. I held his fish tank tightly, like when he was alive. He was as precious as everyone else. The dream ended when I opened the door of my house with all of my pets.

I woke up holding a picture of Lila. When I looked in the mirror, I noticed my eyes were red. I must have cried in real life, too. I lazily went into the living room and said, "Good morning, Lila," before realizing what happened the previous day. I wiped a tear from my eye and made coffee.

Today, working at Denny's Diner was even more miserable than yesterday. My sour mood annoyed customers. Some tried to get the manager. "Manager! Manager! Can we get a new waitress? This one is too...miserable," was what one person said when they saw my deprived face. I went under the speed limit today. And to be honest, I didn't notice I did. A police officer did, though. I got a warning from her.

That was when I saw a group of cats in a dump. Could Lila be there? I parked my car and cautiously walked over to the cats, determined to not scare them away. They looked over to me, but most of them went back to what they were doing. Some kept looking, including Lila. Lila! Lila was there! I wanted to run to her like I did in my dream, but then I noticed something.

She looked...happy. I hated to think this, but she looked happy. I realized she didn't want anyone holding her back. She probably wanted to be free. Most days, I locked her in my house only to be accompanied by her toys. That wasn't fun. She couldn't do what she wanted there. She could do what she wanted here, though. She accomplished this when she didn't run back to me.

For that reason, we met eyes one last time. I turned around and walked away, rubbing a final tear from my eye. But this time, the tear was a happy tear. My cat was doing what she loved.