Change of Hands

I found the cat figurine at my therapist’s office. It wasn't much, with some pretty dull gold and a few shiny stones. I think it was just for show on the desk.

We were eating lunch, casually talking about school. 

My therapist believed that I was getting over my pickpocketing addiction, but little did she know. 

I was eyeing the figurine the entire time, thinking about how to steal it. It wasn’t that hard, either. 

She went to get some dessert, and I simply swiped it, hiding in my jacket pockets. It was smaller than I thought.

I took it home, and wiped some of the dust off. It was pretty shiny.

I left it on top of my nightstand, ready to show my friends the next day. 

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My brother is always bringing weird stuff into his room. Whenever I peek in, I see piles of stuff, especially wallets. I never bother to ask him why, but I know that my parents don’t like to talk about it. 

I often like to think of his room like a treasure cove. You never know what you are going to find there. 

Last time I went in, which I think was yesterday, I found an interesting cat figurine. I know that my grandmother collects them, so I think I will gift it to her. The next time I will go and visit Grandma will be next week. She lives on the other side of town, in the senior home. She likes it that way, and Grandpa keeps her company. 

I took the figurine while my brother was at soccer practice. 

He probably won’t even notice. 

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The other day my grandson came to drop off a little something for me. I think it may have been one of the best gifts I have been given so far. It stands out from the rest of the collection. 

My husband disapproves, but he can’t ignore how it shines like a beacon. I left it in the china cabinet for a few days as a showcase. 

As they say, time flies. I completely forgot about it. Mr. Cuddles, the cat, wasn’t that approving either. He didn’t like how shiny it was, but he may have just been jealous. 

At least he reminded me of the beautiful treasure. 

In light of this, I took it to bingo the other night. 

It was the star of the show, and I passed it around for everybody to take a look at. 

It went around several times, and I had a few bids from other enthusiasts. I think I’ll keep it for some time, however. It looks very beautiful. 

I went home, and then I checked my bag for the cat. It wasn’t there. 

I’m afraid that I may have misplaced it. 

My husband is currently acting like he isn’t upset, but I can tell that he’s a bit upset. Oh, well. At least I was able to enjoy the richness of the figurine. 

I think I’ll name him: Mrs. Cuddles. In memory of the cat, of course. 

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Being a pawn shop owner has its advantages. Expensive items jump out to me, and they capture my attention. 

I instantly knew that the figurine was worthwhile. 

How could none of them see that it had rubies, emeralds, and 24 karat gold?

I positioned myself at the end of the line, but never passed it on to the owner. I think this can fetch me a couple thousand in the market. People really like spending their retirement savings to get stuff like this. 

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I usually don’t rob people, but sometimes I have no choice. If you are an old man, who is holding a gold figurine, laughing out loud, and walking down a dark alley at night, what do you expect me to do?

He didn’t put up much of a struggle, but hey-it’s something at least.

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“I really don’t know what to do, man.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” Bob said, casually slipping a wallet out of a passersby’s back pocket.

“You know you can’t live as a pickpocket for your entire life.”

“I know,” said Bob nonchalantly, sifting through the wallet. “Let’s see… Today is payday. 50 bucks. Not bad. ”

“You don’t seem to be getting my point.”

“What do you mean? This is life!”

“This?” John said, looking at their surroundings. They were at a streetside restaurant in the slums of New York City. It was drab, musky, and dirty. The air quality was horrible; cigarette smoke lingered in the air, and exhaust from the cars squeezing through the alley made them wheeze. 

“You want to keep living like this? Listen: I changed my life by getting it in order. Look at me now. You need to try it too.”

People were crowded around tables, fighting for space. They were soon going to force Bob and John out of their seats. 

“Come on. Let’s go.” John said, getting frustrated.

Bob was still busy, seeing if he could pick any other pockets. 

“It's too hard to try anything here. We’ll be dead if any of them catches us. Let’s go.” He gripped Bob’s hand and pulled him away. 

They walked down the alley towards their apartment, kicking up dust as they went. It had formed like a blanket over the streets and sidewalks. 

Suddenly, in a flurry, Bob was knocked over. He felt the air escaping his body, and the dirty street particles had gotten in his mouth. He stood up, whirling around to see what had happened. 

It was a gang, donned in leather jackets, chasing a young man. The young man appeared to be clutching something in his hand, and that seemed to be what the group was after. 

“What?”

Instinctively, the duo started running after the group, seeing what was up. The young man in front was obviously getting tired, and he started climbing a fire escape. The frame creaked, and rust littered the air. 

But John and Bob could see that the fire escape wasn’t able to handle the weight. The object in the man’s hand seemed to be holding him up too. 

So he dropped it, being barely a flash of gold before landing in a pile of trash. 

Bob saw it, and moved closer. Ignoring the screams and shouts from above, he reached for the object. It was a gold figurine. A cat, to be exact. 

John had seen it too. 

“Come on. Let’s go.”

He dragged Bob out of the alley way, back to the upscale neighborhood where he lived.

“What in the world is that?”

“It’s the object that was dropped.”

“That?”

“Yes. This.”

They studied it a bit more closely. It was a pure gold cat, and had glittering eyes. The collar had many red stones, and its toes were lined with shiny green indents. 

“How much do you think it’s worth?”

“Quite a lot.”

“Let’s keep it here for some time. We’ll figure out what to do.”

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Therapy is a difficult profession. Having been in the field for 30 years, I think I’m qualified to say that.

I’ve found that it works best over lunch. 

Similarly, I find that my clients prefer the TV while eating, too. Helps them ease out their feelings. 

In light of this, I turn it on. Sometimes I laugh, looking at the crazy headlines. Now it’s a missing cat figurine. Worth 3 million. I chuckle. 

Someone knocks. Must be John. He has an appointment today. 

“Come in,” I say, switching off the TV. No point in watching if there are silly headlines.

“Hi.”

“Hello there, John. Want to sit and have lunch with me?”

“Sure.”

We sit and quietly eat, mulling over what to talk about. 

John fidgets, rubbing something in his pocket.

“What do you have there, John?”

“This?” he asks, taking out a cat figurine. “I found it, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

I gasp, trying to stay normal. 

Keeping my poker face on, I observe the figurine. It’s what I just saw on TV.

“Here, I’ll keep it safe for you.”

I gingerly take the figurine from him, placing it on my desk.