The walk

I walked for three hours without stopping.

Three hours during which I could solely bank on the company of leaves rustling under my shoes and the soundless paws of a lanky, black feline. 

And, over and beyond, as I sluggishly realized, the devil itself. 

Which I wasn’t running from, didn’t try to escape something that I knew was inescapable. 

I tried, however, to postpone it. The happen on. This inevitable doom. With the last act winding up, curtains almost sweeping the floor, reaching my grand finale. Rendezvous with The Grim Reaper. 

I walked for three hours without stopping simply because it would felt wrong not to. 

I wouldn’t dare to give up on life. The one that I held so dearly. Life that was my first lover, my friend and my enemy. 

First lover because it excited me, my friend because I felt at ease with it, and my enemy because it was using my most vulnerable parts against me. 

Still and all, I walked. 

“Aren’t you somewhat tired from all this walking?” The cat finally broke the silence that was set upon us. “You only use two paws, wouldn’t it be easier to move on all four?” 

“We only use two of our paws” I shrugged but slowed down a bit seeing that my companion struggled to keep up with me “And technically we don’t call them paws, we have feet attached to our legs and hands attached to our arms” 

“And which one do you use for walking?” 

“Feet” 

“So what do you do with your hands?” 

“Anything really” 

“So why not walk on them either?” 

“Hmmm… I guess it lacks in propriety” 

“Propriety? Why?” 

“I dunno. Just because… I guess” 

“Nothing is ‘just because’. It’s the excuse you use when you don’t know the explanation. The easy way” 

Now when there were two of us walking, after this brief conversation about body parts we fell into a pleasant silence that only lovers or freshly met people can insight. 

Then we walked and walked and walked for two hours without stopping when finally the body parts we so fiercely discussed met the crystalline hoarfrost surface. 

My feet clomped. 

My companion’s paws left the verglas covered with silent lines. 

“Peculiar” 

I nodded, not quite understanding. 

What exactly was so peculiar? Was the cat referring to the topic of our conversation? To the situation we were in? Our shared walk which – although we started it separately and maybe we will also end it separately – awakened something in us that had been thus far lying dusty in the depths of our consciousness, unaware, for a long time dormant, for a while that felt like forever forgotten?

Also, I just realized that I didn't know my companion’s name. And to be fair, it didn't know mine either.

It made me wonder how it referred to me in its thoughts. Was I “the human” to it just as it was “the cat” to me? Or maybe there was a different name for our kind in the feline language? Maybe for it, nothing distinguished me from any other being. Maybe in the cat's eyes, we simply are?

“Yes, very peculiar. But what exactly, dear… erm…?” 

“Kirtsby. Short for Kirtsbert” 

“Catchy. A pleasure to walk with you Kirtsbert, I’m Paul. Short for nothing, but that’s pretty consistent with my simplicity” 

“You said it like being simple is something you should be ashamed of” 

“‘Isn’t it? And maybe, not even necessarily ashamed, just… well… quite boring?” 

“You want a clarification that’s boring? Is that why you’re asking? Or maybe you’d rather hear me say it’s not?” 

“I’m not sure Kirtsbert” 

“You're being dishonest to us both Paul” 

“You right, I am being dishonest” 

Then finally, we were not walking anymore. 

It was like we almost forgot how to move our bodies. My feet, its paws. 

I could hear the hooves clicking from afar, breaking the ice. 

Yet we remained motionless. 

“Why?” 

“You know why” 

“Sometimes saying things aloud makes the fear go away” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because there’s grit in trying” 

“What makes you think I have one?” 

“And what makes you think you don’t?” 

Its question caught me off guard. I unconsciously slowed down a bit, as if the words that had fallen from its mouth were trying to anchor me in place, and my legs were trying hard to fight it.

Do all felines like to ask difficult questions? Kirtsbert was a living confirmation of our human fondness for making cats conduits to wisdom.

“I’m like everyone. There’s nothing special about me, nothing extraordinary. I’m not explicitly good at anything, I am not very outspoken or intelligent, sensitive or funny. Just a regular person, with a regular name”

Kirtsbert wagged its tail which encouraged me to continue rattling. Its calm movements, its unhurried nature made the devil's breath that I had felt on my neck less foul. 

“That’s right Paul” 

“So you get it, right? Why I don’t have it”

Kirtsbert beamed at me in that cat-like way where the whiskers jiggle freely and the eyes – naturally narrow – awry even more. I didn't know how to take that expression.

“Being just a regular person Paul, with a regular name… what’s wrong with that? And why would it justify your lack of bravery?” 

“Why? Because we’re not at all brave” 

“So why do you keep walking? If you’re not brave? Why didn’t you stop?”

…why didn’t I? 

Why? 

“Because…”

Kirtsbert looked at me, patient, not at all curious. 

“I really enjoy walking”

I heard laughter behind me. It was getting more distant. 

“Thank you Kirtsbert” 

“My friends call me Kirtsby” 

The clatter of hooves reached us unexpectedly. It comes from beyond the land of ice on which our tracks were imprinted.

“Can I call you Kirtsby?” 

The devil waved at us. From this angle, it looked almost human. 

Or maybe less human.

Less wicked. 

We waved back. Me with the palm of my hand, Kirtsbert with its soft metacarpal pad. 

“I’ll think about that. But for now, let’s have a walk”