The Cat
I am a cat, and used to live a nice peaceful life on the Amstelveenseweg, just being happy. I remember that, because sometimes it comes to me in my dreams. Those sweet days of being petted by someone, chasing everything that moved in the tall grass of some back garden or waiting silently by the canal for a forgetful frog. I dream of passing the overflowing bowl of tuna with no interest. I dream of laying whole day on the sunny windowsill and inching my way into the bed to curl up at the feet of someone.
Who? I have no idea. I think she was a woman, and her surroundings sparkled in my good dreams. All the open rooms and sunshine, warmth and mainly, no rain. It never rains in my good dreams, it is always dry and sunny there. So many choices to stretch and play.
What happened on that cursed day I also don’t remember, but was able to piece it back together, even though it took me a while.
I must have went to the Big Forest, because that is where I regained consciousness (actually quite a bit more than before). I knew what cars were, and stayed well clear of the ugly smelly, and dangerous boxes moving on the asfalt rivers at lightning speed.
It wasn’t a car that hit me, it’s noise and sound would have warned me, and it wasn’t a bicycle either. It was something in between. Fast but silent, and totally dark.
I might not remember almost anything before that hit, but everything since. Later I spent countless nights searching for the sparkling dream home, only to never see it again, until I stopped and moved on.
My head is suddenly wedged between two thin steel wires, twisting my body into wild circles. I remember that. And when I forget for a second, it comes in the other, not so nice and much more frequent dreams. The moment seems endless, yet for some reason with each spin I think more clearly. I have to pry my head out… More bones cracking, I feel my jaw melting as I loose consciousness.
I wake up on the asfalt river, and it’s raining. A car approaches and with wild motion swerves when the headlights get to me, almost running me over. I can see the change from blinding light into total darkness through some goe obscuring my vision on the one open eye. The other one is not opening.
I feel almost no pain as I lay there on the warm pavement. The rain feels good, and there is an occasional involuntary shudder in my back paws, and a twitch in the missing eye. This time I can see the headlights coming from behind me, my shadow growing. Suddenly a gust of air, and I actually feel the tire by my head. I gotta get out of here…
II.
Don’t ask me how I got into that tent, because even though I remember, I don’t want to talk about it. It took an eternity to get there through the soaking forest, and every time I passed out I dreamt of gleaming windowsills. My back feet didn’t function almost at all, same for the left side of my face, and for some reason I couldn’t close my mouth.
But I did find the tent, deep in the forest, where there should not have been one in the first place. Even the mosquito mesh was cracked open, so I crawled in and passed out.
Unknown amount of time later I got woken up by some noise. I tried to get up, and found out I couldn’t. I focused the good eye onto the figure outside, and sniffed into the rain. He started opening the mesh, and then stopped. Cursing under his breath, he reached into the back pocket. A painful burst of blinding light flooded the tent for a split second. His eyes focused on me as I laid in the corner on top of some cloth. He cursed again, this time with relief, and carefully stepped into the tent.
In total darkness again, a hand reached out and stopped in front of my face. I sniffed it carefully, and let it touch me. First it was gentle strokes, which changed into more determined probing hard fingers, squeezing me and pressing hard into my muscles. I didn’t like that a single bit, so I tried to let the examining hand know, while achieving only getting my head pressed down hard. When it touched my bottom jaw I let out a wild shriek, and passed out again.
It was daylight, and the man was sleeping. I found myself relocated to a different corner of the tent, close to the open mesh. I was wrapped up in molding damp clothing, there was an empty can with water, and some unknown white goo with a piece of meat in the centre.
Everything was fine until I tried to move towards the water, then all hell broke loose. My EYE! My LEGS! My JAW! The whole body was screaming at me as I inched towards the water. I took a sip by wetting my tongue. As I reached out with it, the tongue went through an unknown new mushy territory called my mouth.
The little sip of water did wonders to my broken body, making me piss and shit myself as soon as I got on top of the clothing in my corner. I happily let the fog engulf me, not caring…
III.
So this went on for days, if not weeks, I am not quite sure. I got a lot worse before I got any better, but fortunately was wandering through the almost painless fog most of the time. When I was awake, it was a constant curve of pain. When he would feed me, forcing the white goo which he wetted into my throat, the curve went higher, and when he would set me down after cleaning up onto the fresh fabric and give me a gentle stroke the curve went almost into a flat line.
The man was strange, and didn’t behave like any other human I ever met. He would leave early in the morning, and came back at night. Every night he was barely standing, and as he tended to me I felt the cloud of thick alcohol vapors in him. Then he would drink more, talking to me softly as he did. As he was falling asleep he would pull the fabric I was laying on closer to his feet.
The first night I was awake while he slept really scared me. He was motionless, breathing regularly in deep sleep, and suddenly started jerking his feet. His breath sped up, and he would shake his head wildly occasionally. Then he started screaming, muffled screams as if he was worried someone would hear him.
When the fog cleared around me I realized that the man was running from someone in his sleep. He would wake up in the morning, cheerful if he had some alcohol left, sad, depressed and in a hurry if he didn’t.
He was living in a serious nightmare, and somehow it made my struggle easier. After a few weeks the weather cleared out, and I started doing my necessities outside, to everyone’s relief I am sure. I had to be very careful, cause The Forest was nowhere as huge as I thought. It was also full of paths for civilians and their shi shi dogs. The first trip out was barely a meter away from the tent, my back legs in agony, but I managed.
The eating also got a bit easier, the man started occasionally bringing delicious pate. When it was the white goo with a slice of meat, he would cut it to small pieces and soak it in water. My jaw would make terrible sounds at the beginning, bone scraping against bone, and it made the man run out of the tent as I ate. Now the jaw was somehow fixed in one position, and the noise is almost gone.
More weeks have passed, and we were well into the winter. It was a wet and nasty winter, but by then I was used to the constant sleet. I was also semi healed, my back legs functioning if with a bit of stifness in both, and I also moved them in a funny rhythm. My jaw is fixated in an akward angle, but functions as it should. I see out of only one eye, but see everything.
I have also became quite a predator in the Big Forest, now huge again since I started exlploring into it’s furthest spots. So much to eat, so many games to play. I spent contless hours lurking around the lake, playing with dogs and runing through the wild forest. I tried my best to show myself to the man, let myself be petted and eat the not so delicious pate. I tried my best not to show myself to any other humans, but sometimes they caught me by suprise in the middle of a game. Then they shouted wildly, their eyes in wide suprise…
Then I saw the reaction of other humans to the man, and they looked at him very similarly as at me. It made me like him even more, and I started getting currious about where does he go durring the day.
The accident took a lot, but the it also gave me the man, and what I would call a learning curve. Ever since I got mangled by the electric bakfiets it wasn’t just the body healing, but I was also learning. Learning and mainly remembering. I even started having a sense of counting, as I waited for my prey.
Then the man brought a friend, and they built the tents in a new location. This part of the Big Forest was wilder than the path riddled entrance, with many fallen trees, full of life. I became quite obsessed with killing for fun in that new place.
The Big Forest was next to an airport, and sometimes routed the taking off planes directly in the path where the two tents stood. Yes, I know what an airport is. I kept watching the big loud birds come out of their nest until I decided to see the nest for myself. Then ventured towards it, and as I did the birds became machines, and later the nest became a large lit compound of boxy buildings.
It was rough enough during stormy, windy nights. When the airport rerouted the planes, and the force of the machine would push down onto the trees with a terrible force, making them bend and heave under the immense pressure, making creaking noises similar to my jaw a while back.
Each time that happened, the two men would joke nervously, but did not much else. One night the storm was very strong, viciously bending the trees, and each passing plane caused a distant creak of a falling tree. My savior was completely drunk, and the other guy too miserable I guess, so they went to sleep.
Even the plane sounded louder, and the following creak was deafening. The slow sound of a very fast disaster. I was sleeping with the new guy, and he jumped up, listening intensely. The other tent was slowly and groggily waking up also, but it was time for the twenty meter tree to unroot. Each loud snap meant a ripped root, and then the tree started falling. It was quite larger than others in it’s vicinity, so down it went, destroying everything in it’s path. It landed onto the edge of the drunk tent, lifting the other side wildly into the air.
The moment was quieting down, heavy, deep and eternal. My roomate stood up, took a deep breath and stepped out shaking. I followed, and sat in anticipation onto the new bench.
“Are you alive?”
OMG and ef me sideways, for the first time in my miserable cat life I understood what man said. Not just a word, but the whole sentence. I have been listening to their giberish for months, and nothing. And now, it’s all clearing out.
There was a padding sound in the other tent, and a shaky reply:
“Dude, I had to touch myself to find out.”
It was clear, that I spoke English. In my head, the chaotic thoughts started organizing themselves, all the unknowns getting their propper name, many questions answering themselves. I laid comfortably on the tree, and concentrated on my head, vaguely watching them jump around, shout into the wind and the drunk celebrating.
When they packed their backpacks to go into the city, I decided that the Big Forest is again too small for me, and followed them out.
IV.
The summer came and went, the trees becoming thin with leaves by the day. The contents of it are another story, but we had a lot of fun, and my learning curve was steep.
With the thinning leaves, and the shi shi dogs giving away our location on daily basis, the small Big Forest was becoming even more unstable to live in. One of the tents was dark red, and clearly visible from the path. The passing civilians seemed nervous.
Then one day we were coming from the city, to find workers in green vests circling the tents. They told us we have two hours to pack up and left. The two men started packing frantically, but the yellow vests were back sooner and caught them off guard. They started asking for passports, all official serious like. My buddies started relucantly looking for the documents, making the yellow vests more nervous, shouting and spitting.
As my drunk straightened up to hand over the documents, I ran out of hiding, and jumped into his arms. I gave the vest my most vicious stare and snarled. The situation has changed instantly, miracilously.
The vest pulld back his outstretched arm, his face showing pure emotions flowing. He stepped back to his colleagues, eyes wide. They said something in Dutch I couldn’t understand. My drunk reached out with his passport.
“Is that a persian cat?”
Silence.
“Where did you get that cat, is it chipped?”
“It’s a free cat, lives here with us.” My other roomate cracked a laugh.
“Well it’s not free, looks quite expensive. It must have a chip.”
At that moment I decided this was enough, and as smoothly as my hind legs allowed jumped out of my savior’s arms and danced into the forrest.
“Get that cat, GET THAT CAT!” The leader vest launched after me, only to trip two steps later, and start cursing.I stopped two meters further, mocking him. He got up,and ordered his men to GET THAT CAT.
I kept dancing two steps ahead of the confused yellow group, and in the distance saw my two men with their passoprts in their hands, looking at us in total disbelief.
See you soon, guys…
FOR MY SON JAN
mr.e_crafts