Very Good

The party is loud, and full of people. Noise and people - neither among my favorite things.

Yet another person opens the door to come in. They have flung the door wide, gesticulating enormously and bleating out a Fonzish greeting: “Ayyyy!”

As several others cheer in reply, I take the opportunity to slink outside into the relative darkness. The world smells of dirt, grass, and the radiating heat of the bark of the douglas firs nearby. And as I hurry out, a quick whip of warm breeze carries the scents of the lake to me as well: dancing bugs, hidden fish, lily pads and the mooonlight. The door slowly closes itself, carried along by its hissing bracket. And then, inches from the frame, it slams suddenly shut, abruptly muffling the music and laughter inside, leaving me more or less to myself.

I stand in the middle of a window’s slanted light. As I sit down in the dust, still warm from the sunset an hour ago, I decide that it is the window’s light that is actually on me; not I who is on the light. This suits me quite nicely; I close my eyes and bask in the thought as I consider lying down.

The door opens again, slowly this time. The sudden sonic impact of the party rouses me from my meditation. I abruptly get to my feet and turn towards the door.

This time, somebody has come out the door, rather than going in. It’s the quiet girl with the brown coat, who doesn’t clip her fingernails. She has her eyes on me, and holds the door as it closes, allowing it to close slowly and quietly. I think I like her; I think she understands me.

“Hi,” she nearly whispers. I just stare at her. I don’t know how to respond to something like that.

“The party’s too loud for me too,” she confides. “I thought I might come and sit with you for a bit.”

She walks slowly over towards me, holding her hand out and rubbing her fingers together in a way that is oddly soothing. None the less, when she gets close to where I stand, I take a few steps back into the shadows and take refuge near a haphazard lock of shadowy bush.

“It’s okay,” she assures me, “I know you’re shy. You’re shy, but I’m patient. And I don’t like it in there anyway,” she adds, tilting her head towards the party.

She takes off her sandals, putting her bare feet in the dust. She doesn’t clip her fingernails, but she has recently clipped her toenails, I notice. I wondered if she does this on purpose, or if it’s simply a coincidence.

She sits down in the dust, arranging her long skirt so that it doesn’t wrinkle beneath her. Her tank top shows off her many decorations. She has a constellation on her left collarbone, a dragon on her right arm. She has a semicolon on her left wrist.

She rests her hands on her crossed legs and just waits, looking at the moonlight on the lake. Eventually, I feel bold enough to approach from the shadows. Even when I’m close enough for her to touch, she keeps her hands to herself, still seeming to focus on the view before her.

I come over next to her and sit down near her knee. She really does understand me, because she still doesn’t reach for me or even acknowledge that I’m there. But the moment I turn my face towards her, she reaches her lovely hand towards me and puts her long fingernails right on the crown of my head, between my ears, scratching disinterestedly.

I close my eyes in ecstasy, reveling in the glow of her half-attention. I take a peek, and she’s still looking at the lake. I make biscuits in the dust as she moves her hand down the side of my head, scratching under my chin. I extend my head forward to show my appreciation.

At this moment, she knows just as well as if I had told her that we’re ready for something more. She reaches her hand up and pets me slowly but firmly, from my head right down to my tail as I stand up and arch my back approvingly, flicking my tail upward at just the right moment. I meow at her and begin to purr loudly enough that I’m sure she can hear.

And finally she looks at me. She blinks ever so slowly, and it suddenly occurs to me that I may understand her just as well as she understands me.

I walk a circle in the dust as she pets me. I rub my gums against her hand to show her my devotion. “She is mine,” I say, “and I will not abandon her, nor let another take her from me.”

Finally, I step onto her lap, standing on her legs, kneading her thigh with my front paws. Now, we are one creature. I curl up and lie down, turning my closed eyes towards her so she can see that I am happy.

The door opens again. If I weren’t in such a deep state of transcendent bliss, I might be annoyed at the explosion of sound.

“Coleen,” a man’s voice calls out to us. “Come on, come back in here!”

We do not answer, we just keep enjoying ourself in the moonlit dust. I reach up and put my paw on her mouth. “Don’t speak. He’s not important to us.”

“Coleen!” His voice is slurred and loud. He is stupid. He does not understand us.

I feel and hear his heavy footsteps as he approaches us. He stands over us and looks down. She has stopped petting me, and I become alert, looking up at her face. She looks like a rabbit ready to run. We are separate again. I'm not purring any more.

“You get inside now, Coleen, or I’ll make you wish you’d done!”

He reaches his big, rough, short-nailed hand down and grabs her by her coat, pulling her long, brown hairs upwards as she winces almost silently.

And that is too much for me. I know her; I’ve been her.

I know I will hurt her, but I know he will hurt her more. I expose my claws and run up her shoulder onto his ugly, thick arm. I know what to do; I’ve done it a hundred times before. Go for the eyes. Go for the nose. Scare it away.

As he opens his mouth to shout in pain, I find a home for my claws on the inside of his lower lip. My other claws are hooked into his shirt, and I hang there from my front claws. He releases Coleen and tries to pull me off, but he’s stupid, and only manages to pull my claws deeper into his lip. I am very good at this.

I scrabble at his shirt with my back claws as I try to climb farther up his face. I release my front claws from his shirt and find purchase just below his eye. I bite his nose.

He finally lifts me off his face as I land several more scratches, and throws me against a tree. I grab on and climb up into the darkness above. Coleen is hidden in the shadows, several meters away. He probably can’t see her, but I can see and hear her. She’s breathing heavily, and tears sparkle on her cheeks. Her skirt is still dusty, and she holds one bare foot off the ground as though it hurts a bit.

The party has stopped, though the music is still playing loudly. Everybody who hasn’t rushed outside is staring out through the windows. A few are laughing, but most just look like Coleen did.

“GOD! DAMNED! CAT!” The idiot is screaming at the trees.

He stomps back toward the house. Somebody runs out to try to help him, but he pushes that person to the ground as he continues to stomp in. The crowd parts for him as the music continues.

After a bit, I hear a car door open, and then slam. An engine revs up, and the car screeches out of the driveway, stops for a moment, and then tears off down the dark street with engines roaring like the ancestors; tires squealing like their prey.

I jump down from the tree and hurry off into the darkness towards Coleen. She’s sitting in the pine needles with tears dropping to the ground. I rub up against her, and even flick her nose with my tail. “I’m here. I’m with you.”

“Thank you,” she whispers through her tears. “You’re a good cat, aren’t you?”

I am. I’m a very good cat.