CAT-BRAINED

***Please note: this humorous story was born of frustration in trying to come up with something for contest #187 cat prompts. It is submitted here for my followers’ enjoyment, rather than as a contest entry, since I simply couldn’t just come up with a way to START the story with a stray cat leading a character somewhere LOL. ***

A CAT-BRAINED TALE

“Good evening folks. It’s time for another episode of Life with the Banters, your Seniors Storytime radio show coming to you live from the M.E.O.W. Network, and sponsored by our friends at Purry Furry Feline Foods, the first choice of cat lovers everywhere. 

In our episode tonight, as Matthew so often does, he manages to get Martha’s dander up when he’s only trying to be helpful. Let’s take a listen to what’s going on…”

“Martha, is “Cat-Brained” another little story you’re writing? If so, you’ve got the idiom wrong. The idiom is hare-brained, not cat-brained.”

“Matthew, yes. I’m trying to write a story but I’m taking writer’s license to modify a common idiom to suit my story and my current state of mind.”

“Are you saying you’re cat-brained, not hare-brained? Forgive me, but will you still love me if I dispute that?”

“Stop it. That’s nasty. Why don’t you ask me what the problem is instead of having a go at me when you don’t even know what’s bothering me?”

“Okay. So what’s up?”

“What’s up is my blood pressure! I’m struggling to come up with a good story for one of this week’s Reedsy prompts. The Reedsy prompters have assumed we all love cats and cat stories. Since I’m allergic to cats, they are not my number one choice of companion. Give me our little Scruffy any day. Quiet, obedient, a loyal-to-the-end furry friend whose only fault is making me jump sky-high when he barks.”

“Well, OK. But we have had quite a few cats over 50 years of marriage. You must have some stories to share about them?”

“That’s why I’m saying I’m cat-brained: I have memories of our cats prowling all over my brain, but none of them has clawed their way into a story that suits one of the five prompts. On top of that, most of our stories wouldn’t take 1000 words to tell.”

“Are you kidding me, Martha? When you start talking about something that’s got you excited, you can spit out a thousand words in a minute!”

“But I’m writing, not talking…there’s a difference you know…and I’m not excited about cats. You know what Matthew? You really aren’t helping me right now. I can only think of one possible story that MIGHT fit one of the prompts...and that’s a big might.”

“What prompt is that?”

“Thanks for asking at last. Well, the prompt requires us to write a story about a stray cat leading you somewhere. The only one that comes to mind for me occurred when I was about 7 years old and…”

“And that was over 70 years ago…”

“I don’t need reminding how old I am Matthew! Grrr! Don’t interrupt. You know I can’t remember what I was about to say when you interrupt!”

“Oops…sorry. So what happened with that stray cat and that 7-year-old you?”

“Well, when I spotted it passing by the kitchen window, I had just gotten home from school. I was starving, but there was nothing to eat in the cupboards. We were pretty poor, you know.”

“Yes, you’ve told me that before.”

“Anyway, my father demanded that I always do my homework as soon as I get home, and I was about to do that when I spotted the cat. You know, Matthew, my father was so hard on me, and I was such a lonely, only child…”

Sniff, sniff.

“Awww…don’t go all maudlin on me, Martha. You’ve told me about your father many times, and yes, he wasn’t all that nice. Awww, honey…do you need a tissue? No? Oh, okay then. Get on with your story before you forget it.”

‘Okay. So, even though I knew I was being disobedient, I followed that stray down our street and suddenly realized I’d never come this far before. I wasn’t sure whether to turn left or right…”

“A bit like when you’re driving. Still the same old Martha 70 years later eh?”

“Would you cut it out? That’s mean. Now, where was I? Okay, got it. So I couldn’t make up my mind and I looked around trying to see where the stray cat had gone. I couldn’t see her anywhere, so I decided to turn left where there were a few new houses under construction. I knew I shouldn’t go over there looking for some stray cat, but, as you know, I’m not all that good at deciding what I should or shouldn’t do…”

“I’ll say! Whoops. Sorry. Get on with it Martha. I’ll need to get up to the toilet soon. Is there much more to this story?”

“Fine! So I walked over to the construction site, made my way carefully over fresh floor beams and rubble, and in one corner of the house frame, I found a bunch of newly-born kittens. There were five of them. Their tiny eyes were still closed and I could see their little bodies taking short breaths. I felt so sorry for them. Had they been abandoned? Was the stray cat I’d seen their mother? If so, why wasn’t she nearby? Or had she led me here on purpose?”

“So what did you do?”

“Well, you know how impulsive I am?”

“I do.”

“Well, I wanted to do something to help them, but what? I couldn’t bring them all home. My father would kill me. And what if they actually belonged to some family nearby or one of the construction workers? I could get into trouble for stealing etc.”

“Martha…any chance you could speed this up a little? I really need to go soon. What did you end up doing?”

“So, this is where my story gets a bit sad. Remember how I said I was a lonely, only child? As new immigrants, my mom and dad were working long hours in factories and never got home before 5 pm. We had only moved into our house a month or two earlier. We hardly had any furniture and I hadn’t made any friends yet. So, I somehow convinced myself that if I took just one of the kittens home with me, that would be only a little, not a big steal, right? And with the kittens being so tiny, maybe my father would let me keep it as it wouldn’t eat much. And that way, I wouldn’t be quite as lonely with a little kitten to cuddle.”

“Awww. So what happened? Did you take it home?”

“I did, and much to my surprise, my father let me keep it. He even suggested it might not survive as it hadn’t been weaned, but we could try to keep it alive by giving it regular milk using a dropper.”

“So, sometimes your mean, old dad wasn’t always that hard on you, eh? Glad to hear it. And so, did the kitten make it?”

“Unfortunately no. We kept it alive for a few days. But every one of those days, I would tear home from school, eager to see “Tiny” as I named him. I couldn’t wait for him to open his eyes and see me, to see how much I loved him and that I was caring for him. I so wanted him to know that while he was probably lonely for his mama and sisters and brothers, I too had been lonely until I found him and that now, neither of us was lonely because we had each other.”

“You know what, Martha? That’s a nice story. I think you should submit that one.”

“Really Matthew? Do you think so?”

“I just said so, didn’t I Martha? Listen, honey, I’d like to chat more, but nature’s calling. I hope I helped you out a bit my cat-brained darling, but right now, I really have to go!”

“Yes, you helped a lot, Matthew. About as close to purr-fect as this non-cat person can get. Now go, go, go, and don’t forget to flush.”

“And there you go, folks. Another episode of Life with the Banters brought to you by the M.E.O.W. Network courtesy of Purry Furry Feline Foods. We hope you enjoyed it. Please let us know if you did and be sure to tune in again next week. Thanks for listening.”