10 08 2008

Time for a bit ‘o fun, featuring


It is a cool but sunny February afternoon in downtown Baton Rouge, Louisiana. At the door of his old shotgun house stands The Hermit, gazing outward from darkness. To his immediate left, no more than ten feet away, he sees his cat lying on her stomach on the hood of his parked car with her right paw curled up near her face. Kitty (She’s a free-range cat, so he gave her only a generic name.) has her head turned toward The Hermit and her eyes closed peacefully.

On Kitty’s back, half lying and half perched alertly, is another cat, whose eyes are wide open. This neighborhood character, who looks enough like the tapioca-colored Kitty to be her sibling, fidgets restrainedly as The Hermit watches. Kitty ignores him.

Also watching this tableau are two other cats, including one burly newcomer whom the Hermit has never seen around the neighborhood before. He is a little larger than the average outdoor cat, and has dark gray fur with black stripes. If he were a man his nickname would be “Bear.” He is sitting on the ground off to the right of the back of the car, near the sidewalk. Watching events from a spot on the grass in front of the car is another stranger—an extremely handsome, but slightly-built young fellow with startlingly blue eyes. The Hermit decides he must be a “teenager,” hoping to be the beneficiary of a miracle today, and meanwhile studying how to conduct himself in future proceedings of this sort.

The feline audience members appear absorbed in the so-far non-events on the car hood. The Hermit is less absorbed, but curious. He thinks idly that all of the watchers would look perfectly natural with cigarettes hanging from their lips.

Finally, the cat lying on Kitty’s back jogs the “elbow” of her front right leg. It is a very gentle jog. He hesitates and then tries the same move twice more. Kitty fidgets briefly, then explodes! In an instant she has scrambled out from under Sibling and is retreating backward up the windshield, hissing. Sibling follows, and, as they find themselves momentarily together on the top of the car, Kitty yowls and bats at him with her left paw!. Sibling backs off as Kitty scrambles down the rear window of the car to the trunk, then to the ground. He does not venture to follow here off the trunk.

These creatures have moved so fast through this series of actions that The Hermit can only recall it as a kind of tapioca-colored ribbon of movement that still seems to cling, loosely but smoothly, to the hood, windshield, roof, and trunk of his old brown car, as if the whole were a just-unwrapped package lying forever under some timeless celebratory tree.

The next events happen more slowly. Kitty stalks a short distance away from the car, onto the sidewalk, and sits down facing us. At first she sits quietly. Within a minute, though, she has become restless, and soon she stands up and begins turning like a dog starting to chase his tale. Suddenly she flops onto her back and begins to twist her body around even more, her lower body doing most of the writhing. Then she gives that up and instead starts to lick her genital area, soon zeroing in on her feline Bower of Bliss. This rain ain’t doin’ Kitty’s motor good, apparently, though, because she goes back to side-to-side writhing, then returns to licking herself again, only faster. The audience starts moving forward. Teenager runs up first, then Sibling jumps down from the car. Sibling is the first to make it to Kitty’s side, until Bear bestirs himself and stalks up beside her, whereupon both Sibling and Teenager back off slightly.

Now the mercurial Kitty changes the scene again. Suddenly rolling over, she jumps to her feet, and streaks away down the sidewalk stage left. All the guys—Sibling, Teenager, Bear—give chase, with Teenager in the lead. As the whole group runs out the Hermit’s sight behind an azalea, however, he doubts that it will be Teenager who wins the prize. Having seen Bear and Kitty eating companionably together on his porch the day before, The Hermit is betting on Bear. And, although he can’t hope to follow the group quickly enough to see for sure how the race turns out, as a male, he’d like to believe that at least one of the tomcats caught Kitty and they consummated their lust together. It’s late in Kitty’s cycle, though, he realizes. She may have run away just because she is thoroughly sick of this sex thing and wants to ditch all the guys. The Hermit will never know.




2 responses

10 08 2008

Have you by any chance lost your Kitty?

11 08 2008

She is long gone. That was written in 2000. Like all Free Range Cats in my experience, she was killed. Well, uh, usually hey just disappear and I assume they’ve been killed. But I found Kitty under a bush one morning with a long, ugly open scar on a back leg. A trip to the veterenarian didn’t save her. Since then I have resisted the charms of all wandering cats.

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