Amor

Any second now. 

Any second before I hear the familiar turning of the key and she walks through the door. I’m already lying nearby in anticipation. The sun has gone down by now, but the hallway carpet is still slightly warm from its touch a few hours ago. It is my favourite spot in the apartment, especially when I am by myself. I am kept company only by a fallen jacket she has not yet found the time to pick up and a fake palm tree. Sometimes, the plant challenges me to a fight, and who am I to refuse? For some reason unbeknownst to me, she always roots for the tree. Ever since that first fight, “Bad kitty” has turned into a quiet “Not again”, followed by broom playtime. It’s the absolute best!

Today, I am not letting anything tempt me. Before she left the apartment, she showed many signs of being in a good mood upon returning. She had taken especially long in the bathroom, taking ages before acknowledging my scratching at the door to be let in. There, I admired her as she put all sorts of concoctions onto her face. Every so often, she tickled my nose with one of her brushes and I sneezed before returning my attention to her craft. Melodies played from her small screen and she sang along. I quite enjoy her voice. Occasionally, it sounds a bit like mine. One of her recurring guests, a woman who I am particularly fond of for always bringing me snacks, once told her she sounds “like a cat in a blender”. I thought that was a rather insensitive and triggering remark, if not incredibly violent. Why would anyone put a cat in a blender and how did she know what that sounded like?

By the end of her bathroom session, she looked shiny and she was overly chatty, tell-tale signs of her good mood. How this benefits me is the near guarantee that when she gets home, I will be extra spoiled. Lately, we have been enjoying catnip wine together. Oh, I do hope she remembered to get us a new bottle. Nothing better to get me through these lonely days than the thought of a few sips of heaven at night. 

And so, I wait eagerly, my chin resting on the fuzzy, sun-kissed carpet, my eyes peeled on the door. What else has a cat got to do all by itself? 

I jump upright at the sound of a familiar clicking on the other side of the door. Finally! She has come back to me. The door opens and she greets me. Only, it quickly becomes clear she isn’t talking to me at all. Her “Welcome” was meant for a figure behind her, one I hadn’t heard before the door opened. 

As soon as the figure comes into view, my back arches and I hiss. Sometimes, she brings people home but those times, she would tell me all about it beforehand and even leave the bedroom door open for me in case I wished to hide away. Those are occasions I can live with, but to surprise me like that today of all days … I had so been looking forward to our night together. And this figure she brought with her tonight looks dangerous. Evil incarnate. Something stinks about it. My fur bristles with the need to protect my space and her. 

I yowl at the evil as I slowly back away. Whenever they take another step, I take two, right until I am backed against the living room couch. She does not appear to give me much mind, even though I am visibly in distress. Has the evil brainwashed her? Has it made her forget who really matters? 

I wish to remind her of our plans tonight, but the evil is glued to her, following her every move. She pours it a glass and I watch as she closes the fridge without even a single glance at my precious catnip wine. It hurts. I didn’t know she was capable of being this cruel. I almost walk over to demand my food bowl be refilled but stop myself when I am hit with a wave of disappointment. This isn’t how my night was supposed to go and she knows it! I’m certain she does. She will come around if I simply wait. 

Defeated, I crawl into the wooded box of my scratching tower. With age and a lot of food, I have almost outgrown the dark space so I do not visit it very often anymore. It is reserved for times like these when I do not wish to be seen or touched. Wake me when you have come to your senses, I cry out before resting my head on my paws. 

I wake up to my name being called a few times. It takes a while before I leave my safe place. As soon as I step out of the box, I notice the evil still sitting on our couch and I direct a big hiss at it. The nerve! 

I tiptoe over to the kitchen where she picks me up before I have to jump on the counter. She’s giving me a weird face as she spouts nonsense at me. Her face is flushed and her eyes are half closed. I meow at her questionably, but she ignores me and kisses my nose. I lick hers back and she puts me down next to my bowl. It’s plain chicken. And here I almost felt excited! 

Halfway through my bowl, I lose the little appetite I had. I plop down in the middle of the counter and start licking my fur. I take my sweet time, especially since she always tells me the kitchen is no place for grooming. Who will stop me if no one pays any attention to me? Apparently, canoodling on the couch is much more enjoyable. At one point throughout my grooming, I wince. There’s a stench to this whole situation, and I know it is from the evil that has intruded upon our night and not from me licking my butt. I wouldn’t know why she would prefer giving the intruder kisses when there’s no one better groomed in this home than myself. I throw it a nasty look from between my legs so it knows. To no avail. 

My grooming session promptly ends when she excuses herself to go to the bathroom. As if tonight hasn’t been bad enough, I now sit face-to-face with evil itself. The ungroomed figure lies sloppily on the couch, hands behind its head. It stares at me, so I stare right back. Every hair on my body wants me to look away and run after her, but I must stand my ground. 

“Not much of a talker, are ya?” 

I prepare to articulate to shove its talking where the sun never shines but I am interrupted by a low ringing. What follows is a glance at its small screen, to the hallway, and back to the screen. Something in me sounds an alarm, though not one that urges me to run away. Curiosity. What did they say about that again? I move towards the edge of the counter and watch as it speaks into the screen. 

“Hey, baby.” Its voice is low and scratchy. “You too. Happy Valentine’s. I thought we were going to call in the morning. Yeah…You know me, these business trips make me sleepy. Yeah. Mhm. Oh, really? What are you wearing?” For a second there, the evil seems entirely lost in the conversation. Hello? Am I not interesting enough? When the sound of a toilet flushing reaches its ears, however, it quickly returns to reality. “I miss you too, baby. I gotta go though.” A yawn. “I’ll text you when I’m back tomorrow. Yeah, yeah. Me too.” A door creaks open and it allows for one more hasty, “Bye”, before putting the screen down. 

She sits back down next to it and it buries its face into her neck. She coos at it like a cat drunk on affection. I am almost impressed with the sheer level of manipulation happening right under her nose. I suppose that is how humans came to serve cats–it’s always up to a cat to sniff out the weirdos! 

With a huff, I jump off the counter. Time for me to save my human. 

I stride towards the evil who, now that I have seen its true face, is a lot less terrifying. She applauds my approach as if I mean to befriend her unwelcome guest. She couldn’t be more wrong. Once I am in front of the evil, I direct a loud and accusatory meow at him, something along the lines of If you do not leave her alone anytime soon, I will eat your eyeballs. Naturally, I am too perfectly adorable and it mistakes my words for that of a pal. This language barrier is a massive pain. 

Luckily, actions speak louder than words. As soon as its hand hovers over me–on her insistence, since this obvious dog lover would never dare come close otherwise–I bite. I do not let go until I’m appropriately growling like a feral dog and have sunk my sharp teeth so deeply I can taste iron.

The satisfaction of the loud “Fuck!” is quickly drowned out by the repeated apologies coming from her mouth. She truly is like a dog on a leash. 

That is enough of the dog metaphors for one night. 

It deserved it! It’s hiding something from you! I yell at her but she refuses to listen. She picks me up and drags me out of biting distance. I only get one scolding before she rushes back to the bathroom. As soon as she’s turned around, I return to my previous position and stare the evil down. It narrows its eyes. The first one to blink is a loser. Of course, I win. 

“I’m so sorry about her. She’s usually a very good kitty.” She’s tending to the bite marks as if it is a dying man. I wish it were. 

This bi–actually, I mustn’t judge her too harshly. She’s the one being manipulated after all. 

Once she is done bandaging the scumbag, I quickly leave before she decides to lock me up for the night. I pace through the kitchen, thinking of a plan to make her see, one that doesn’t involve biting. 

Every time I glance over and catch her being all chummy with this stranger or using that specific pitch of voice that she always reserves for me, I feel like I lost one of my lives. By the end of the night, I will be fed to the wolves. That doesn’t count as a dog idiom, does it? 

I keep watch as she pours herself another glass, talks about her hopes and dreams, and snaps pictures with that small screen of hers. It’s exactly what our night was supposed to look like. I sentence her to a whole night without my paws’ magical kneading! 

No matter the betrayal, there must be something I can do to reverse the situation. I scan my surroundings carefully. Suddenly catching my eye is the shelf above the couch, full of books and plants. She thinks it is beyond my reach but every so often, I find my way up there. Whenever she curses at a fallen book, I must conceal my amusement. To this day, she does not know it was me up there. Until today. 

She remains too focused on her weak conversation partner to pay me any mind as I jump on the cabinet next to her and swiftly onto the shelf. I am at a tempting angle to jump down and scratch the evil’s face off but that would result in an immediate bathroom time-out, if not worse. It is time to get rid of the pest once and for all without being incriminated. A happy accident, so to speak. I tiptoe over some books and encounter my target. It is one of the scariest items in the house, with thorns sharper than my teeth. The cactus sits in the middle of the shelf. All it needs is two little pushes forward and one sideways and it should reach my target. Who could believe such a clever plan could be created in that tiny little head of mine? I sure did. 

I nudge the plant. Once forward, forward again, to the side. Perhaps I have slightly miscalculated because a few extra pushes are necessary. 

It never sees it coming. 

She cries as the plant falls. The pot breaks to pieces on the coffee table and the cactus plant drops neatly on the evil’s leg. I await its scream of agony but nothing comes. It carefully picks it off and places it on the table and I am met with two judgemental pairs of eyes, making my paws shake so badly, I tumble down onto the evil itself. 

The needles didn’t even pierce its trousers. What a waste of a perfectly good secret spot! I consider using my claws instead but violence seems to be a dead end with this creature.

She reaches towards me again but I stand my ground. No! I yell at her. You have done nothing but disappoint me tonight. You invite this outsider to our special night, one who doesn’t even come close to being worthy! I cannot rest for humans are stupid and you are being misled with every word. So no, you will not take me away and allow for this evil to call this place home. If you do, you betray that special bond between us and I shall never forgive you.

So I resort to my final option, one that is degrading, even after the embarrassment of tumbling down.

I piss on it. I let it all go over that perfectly thick pair of trousers and the hand that was resting next to it. Oh, how revenge tastes sour! 

The following reaction is quite understandable. The evil throws me off itself, begins yelling all sorts of phrases its mother wouldn’t approve of, and runs off to the bathroom. 

The small screen is left on the couch. I reach it before she can reach me and start tapping it with my nose and paws like a cat gone mad. Maybe I have gone mad. I would do a lot for that precious catnip wine. 

She rubs her temples. “What’s wrong? Haven’t you done enough tonight?”

I have, I say. If you will just look at this darned screen! 

“I should help him clean up. What will I do with you…”

Before she leaves, I scream at her again, as loud as possible, before tapping the phone. Something opens and I am greeted by another cat. Is this who the intruder was talking to? All this time it was in cahoots with another cat? To do what? Plot my demise? No, mister! 

She takes the phone from me while I am distracted. I begin to doubt everything. Was she in on this too? Have I misread this whole situation? “If after tonight he finds pictures of you on his phone, he might have a heart attack,” she sighs. She gets rid of the cat before I can ask it any questions and is suddenly dead silent as she stares at the screen. She swipes her finger over it a few times. “Who in the hell…”

The evil walks back into our space, immediately shouting accusatory remarks at me. I drown them out. My instincts are telling me the time of being wrongfully accused is behind me. 

She gets up. “Your girlfriend texted you a few times. I hope you don’t mind I told her she looks lovely. Oh, and a few other things. I bet you’re smart enough to figure them out.” Right when I think she is done, she throws the phone its way. It all happens faster than I can process. One moment the evil is looking dumbfounded, a frown deeply engrained on its face, the next it is gone. Like it never even existed. Only, it did. I can tell from her deep sigh. 

She sinks back into the couch. I place my paw atop her leg. You’re brave. Thank you for listening to me. This time, I truly wish she could understand me. 

“All I want is one good date. One good man. Instead, it’s Valentine’s and I’m sitting half-drunk on a couch drenched in cat piss.” She turns to me. “Oh, how did you know? You’re such a clever little kitty, you know that? I wouldn’t survive without you.” 

No, you wouldn’t. But a day will come when you will have to. I’m getting older much faster than you are getting wiser. 

“I guess it’s just us now. Happy Valentine’s, my sweet Amor.” She leans down to kiss my furry crown and scratches my chin. It is impossible to control my purring. Humans have a word for this kind of feeling, but I am too distracted by her next words to remember it. “How about I fetch us some snacks? I bought a new bottle of catnip wine earlier this week …” 

She saunters over to the kitchen and I watch as she grabs my favourite bowl and pours me some wine. All is normal again. I knew it would be. If there is ever someone I can count on, I know it is her. There is nothing that could ever break this special bond between us. The evil presence earlier? Long forgotten!

I don’t know when she makes it back to the couch. Patience isn’t exactly one of my virtues. I’m long overdue for a nice cat nap, and it so happens that I cleared some space off the living room shelf!

As for that catnip wine? Well, there is always tomorrow.