The Cheese Stands Alone

I could not believe what I saw. It has been ten years, and I still cannot believe it. No one else will probably ever believe me either. The incident plagues me to this day, and I firmly believe it will for the rest of my life. Let me introduce myself. My name is Harold and I was just your ordinary house cat. Once full of life and vigor, I now spend my days, lurking through the remnants of a burned down barn in the dell, remembering. I went from a carefree cat to a troubled feline, destined for a life of being constantly haunted of the how and the why it all happened. Always wondering, why was I left behind.

It was not always like this though. The lovely old couple that takes care of me found me as a kitten out in their barn. Abandoned. The rest of my litter and my mother gone. They told me that I was probably something they refer to as a “runt.” The man was a farmer, and his wife, a lovely homemaker. Every day she would fill a saucer of milk for me and put out a bowl of food. I would take a nap on the bed while she would clean and run errands. When I got bored of that I would chase the mice out of the kitchen. It was a farm house after all. They were there, and someone had to take care of them. 

After dinner, when they would sit in the living room by the fireplace, listening to the radio, talking about the day, each working on their own little projects. I would chase balls of yarn around the room as the farmer’s wife tried to knit while the farmer would sneak me scraps of food in between the pages of the book he was reading. This would go on until the wife caught him. She would scold the farmer, they would pack up their stuff, and would head to bed for the night. Once they were all tucked in, I would climb up onto the foot of the bed and make myself comfortable. The next day, it would start all over again. I was living the life.

Then one week, the old couples’ son came home for a visit. He brought his wife and baby with him. It was scary at first, but it was not long before I took a liking to this small human. She would throw things for me to chase. And, as it turns out, we both liked to play in the yarn basket. At meal times she dropped so many scraps from the table. I was eating like a king. The son and his wife were great too. They were always ready to pet me and offer me a lap to lounge upon. I was starting to hope that they would stay forever. That is, until that fateful day occurred.

The old couple had left to town for the evening. Something about a church function. To this day, I still do not know what that is. I was left in the house with the son and his family. The son and his wife went into the kitchen to make lunch, leaving me in the living room with their child. We were happily playing with the basket of yarn, which had become our habit. She would through the yarn and I would chase and tackle it. She would crawl over, grab the yarn, and do it again. This had been going on for a good ten minutes when she threw it into the fire.

At first, I was disappointed as this meant that our game was now over. I had learned the hard way as a kitten to not get too close to the fire. My singed tail served as a reminder of that for weeks. I saw that ball of yarn go into the fire and knew it was unreachable for me and I hoped that this child knew that it would be unreachable for her as well. I turned around and began to walk away, looking for something new to occupy my time. All of the sudden the room felt significantly warmer. I tuned around to look at the fire and was shocked to see that it had grown and was starting to leave the fireplace. It had never done this before. The fire seemed to have climbed along the tail of yarn leading out of the fireplace. It had climbed all the way to the basket of yarn and had set it aflame as well. I let out a loud meow and the child began to cry.

Both of her parents ran into the room. They saw what was happening and began to yell. Almost simultaneously, the son grabbed his wife as his wife grabbed the child. I remember the son saying, “we need to get out, now!” They rushed out of the house. This is when all chaos ensued. And where my new life of hopeless abandonment began.

It did not strike me as important at the time, but, as I reminisce, it seems to me to be an important detail to the story. When her mother picked her up, the child had a doll in her hand that her grandmother had made for her that morning to play with. It was a nurse and it was made of fresh hay. The child loved it. Why is this important? Well, as the family rushed out of the house, which was quickly becoming more engulfed in flames by the second, doll in hand, they ran pass the cow pen. The one of the cows caught the scent of the fresh hay that the doll was made out of. Apparently had to have it. He bust out of the pen and started to follow the family. The other cows looked up at the sound of the pen being busted open. When they looked up, they saw the flames coming out of the house. They got scared and followed the first cow. Pandemonium was beginning to arise.

Now, while I was the only animal that the old couple had inside, they had several animals outside. And not just the cows. One such animal was the old coonhound. No longer able to go hunting, his job was to look after the cows. This old dog was in the barn when he heard the cows get out of their pen. When he stuck his head out of the barn door, he saw the cows breaking out. He turned to see what had happened and saw the house in flames. The old hound began to bark. He ran in the same direction as everyone else. I am not sure whether it was to try and round up the cows or to get away from the flames, but I am pretty sure it was a mixture of both.

All of the dog’s barking got the attention of the barn cat who had been chasing a mouse in the barn. Apparently, this mouse had gone unnoticed in the house as I was playing with the child, and was able to sneak out into the barn with a hunk of cheese from the kitchen. This barn cat was an experienced hunter though. He was not going to let the mouse get away a second time. I had always admired him for that.  I believe he was about to finish the job when he heard the dog barking. He ran, spooked, out of the barn as well, mouse with cheese in mouth. The mouse dropped the cheese in all of the commotion as the cat ran off with it in the direction of everyone else.

This image has been burned into my brain forever. The air around me is filling with smoke, curtains and beams were starting to fall. But all I can see is that cheese, standing alone. The cheese stands alone. Just like me. Left behind. Forgotten. Standing alone.

It is getting nearly impossible to breathe. I begin to cough and it snaps me back into reality. I am able to find my way to the door and run out of the house. I try to run after the family, but I had inhaled so much smoke. I did my best to follow the path they took, wheezing the entire way. In a few minutes I see them in the distance. I continue to crawl along, trying to get to them. I attempt to meow, but I cannot. It turns out, the smoke had done irreversible damage to my lungs.

I see the old couple come racing up to where the son, his family, and all of the animals have congregated.

“Oh my goodness!  Is everyone okay?” the old woman asks.

“What happened?” the farmer demanded, “did everyone get out?”

“Everyone is okay. Everyone made it out. We are all here,” the son said. He begins to explain to what happened. There is a problem though. Everyone was not all there. I was not there. Apparently, it did not matter though. After the son finished telling the old couple what had happened, they all hugged and drove off in the car.

A couple of days later, the farmer showed up with a big truck. I felt a pang of hope rise up in me. He had returned for me. All of the other animals were loaded up into the truck. I tried to make my way to the farmer from my hiding spot. But I was still weak, it was a struggle. I figured it would be okay. He would look for me, right? I was wrong. Once the last cow was loaded up, the farmer drove off. He did not even look for me. Again, like the cheese, I stood alone.

I never saw any of them again.

I slunk back to my hiding spot. Over time, I regained my strength. I returned back to the burned remnants of the barn. It was all that was left of the only home that I ever knew. Now, day after day I lurk around. I think. I hunt mice. I think some more. I keep going over that day in my head. How could they forget me? Why would they leave me behind? Do they miss me? Why did they never come back? These questions haunt me day in and day out. I have accepted the fact that I will probably never know. All I know is that, now, I stand alone.