Mreet
She was ruler of all she surveyed. Only now, her domain was limited to this box filled with warm grass, the food preparation area and her litter box.
Mreet knew she hurt. She knew that she was no longer as she once was, that her back right leg was no longer there. She vaguely remembered being trapped in the noisy place with bad smells and the tearing pain in her back leg when she fell too far and landed not right. For a day and a night she had laid there, unable to pull her leg off the sharp thing that held her pinned to the ground. The girl had at last found her and brought her back home. There had been many strange people and more strange smells, but she trusted people and let them do as they will. She had never known pain at human hands. When she awoke, the bad pain in her leg was less, but when she tried to groom the bad smells away, she found that her leg was gone too. Puzzled over these changes, Mreet curled up, rested her head on her front paws and closed her eyes. She had to heal to continue the hunt.
It took many days and many nights to heal. The girl brought her food and carried her to the litter box. She helped to clean the area that was her not-leg. Finally, eventually, the pain became bearable and the fur grew back. It was time to hunt.
She and her kind searched, always searched, for what they knew should be out there, but had yet to find. She and her kind could not comprehend that they were only newly come upon this strange world devoid of the small creatures that skittered and scampered and which were their lawful prey. The round, slow-moving balls that occasional could be found did not run in fear, but more importantly, smelled not right.
She learned to walk again. Step, step, hop. Step, step, hop. It lacked her former grace, but would do. She needed to go out, to continue the hunt, but the girl would not open the door.
MeowwWWR! She felt the breeze ruffle her fur and looked up to see the table next to the window. She could jump that high, before. She backed up clumsily, keeping her eyes on her goal, her whiskers trembling with determination; she crouched low, bunching up her hind leg’s muscles and…. leapt for the edge of the table. Her front paws made it, barely, hooking onto the cloth under a heavy bowl; she scrambled up the cloth quickly quickly as it slid slowly toward the edge under her slight weight. Faster and faster she found herself sliding back, back toward the edge and finally, over. THUMP. She landed in an untidy indignant heap. And before she could right herself, the bowl landed on her head, hard, causing her eyes to cross, dripping its sticky contents down the fur on her face and shoulders.
This was an intolerable situation. She was not where she wanted to be, she was wet and she was messy. She groomed herself carefully, intently. The mess was sticky. With much effort, she was able to clean all but the area behind her left ear and neck. Every time she reached for that spot, she lost her balance and fell over. That patch of fur would just stay sticky until the girl groomed her. It took a long time, but almost clean and with dignity restored, she knew she must try again.
This time she made it.
The jump down from the window was easy. She lifted her head to sniff the rich growing smells, her pupils slitted almost shut in the bright light, her ears turning to catch the sounds of the girl playing just out of sight. The trees were tall and shady. The grass was soft underfoot. The sun was warm on her back. And although the place of the not-leg still ached, her domain awaited its mistress. It was time to hunt.
Step, step, hop. Step, step, hop. She placed her feet carefully on the sharp, loose gravel; it was dangerous in this area. Step, step, hop. She was tired. The prey remained elusive. The night had come and gone; it was time to return to the place of the girl for food and sleep. Step, step, hop. Step, step, hop. Only a little further. She could hear the girl’s voice calling. Step, step……her leg slipped under her on a patch of loose dirt and she fell, slipping and sliding down the embankment to land at the opening of a small hollow under a vine shrouded ledge. She took deep breaths. She looked up the small hill, the path was far, far away. Too far away. She was so very tired. She would sleep and then go to the girl. She sought the depths of the hollow for safety.
She awoke rested and thirsty. She froze. In the shadows there were little movements all around her, little skitterings…. her eyes dilated, her ears twitched this way and that… she sniffed, and then relaxed. It was only the smell of the round things which had no fear. Mreet realized they were around her, that some were on her. She awkwardly got to her feet and shook them off and headed to the opening of the hollow. Step, step, hop. Her left ear felt funny. Twitching the ear this was and that did not help. She sat to scratch it, but unable to keep balanced, fell over on her side. She was very thirsty and hungry. She would go to the girl. The girl would scratch her ear.
Mreet made it home and found the door open. There was food and water and her bed filled with soft grass. She slept. She was abruptly awoken when the girl scooped her up in her arms making happy sounding noises. She purred back at the girl. Still, her ear itched horrible, with tickly feelings going down inside her tender ear canal. MeowwWWR! The girl looked down at her and made a loud noise of surprise. There was a pulling feeling behind her left ear where the fur was yet sticky and then the tickly feeling was gone. She shook her head with relief. She was returned to her sleeping box as the girl held in her hand something small and silver-ish. She watched the girl turned to show the mother-queen. Mreet sniffed in the strange thing’s direction. It was the scent of a very small not-prey. It had been on her? She hopped out of her box and walked over to the mother-queen who bent down to show her the small round thing. It was the size of a small kitten, but it still did not smell right. She turned to find her food bowl and then a warm sunny spot to sleep.
Mreet ignored the not-prey as was befitting a huntress, but the girl kept putting the thing in her box. This was unacceptable. She hissed at it; it ignored her. She carried it to her litter box and buried it; it just shrugged off the sand and trundled out. She whopped it with her paw; it rolled away. Mreet blinked in surprise. She sat upright, tail wrapped around her front feet, the tip twitching thoughtfully. With squinted eyes, she watched the not-prey move away on its own accord. Yes…. She walked over and whopped it harder; it rolled further. She crouched down with her rump in the air, her hind leg twitching in anticipation and…. POUNCE. The not-prey fairly flew across the room to roll up against the far wall. YES!…. this is what she was bred to do, to hunt the small things that skittered and scampered. And just maybe, trundled.
The small silver-grey ball never reacted to its unexpected changes in direction and velocity; it would simple shake the plush fur back to order and trundle along its deliberate way.
The small ball grew larger with time, as did the girl. On a cool night, Mreet curled up with the girl in her bed. The girl, who loved her cat with the totality known only in a child’s love, stroked Mreet’s fur and shared warmth. Mreet purred with contentment. From the other side of the girl came an echoing noise, not quite a proper purr, but more like a hum. Mreet stood to investigate. The round thing was now quite the size of a proper cat, but still did not act like prey nor predator. Mreet turned back to curl up again when the girl plopped the round thing right next to her. She startled but made only a silent hiss. The not-purr was soothing. The round thing settled down between girl and cat making its not-purr. Mreet felt relaxed and content. Her not-leg no longer ached. She slept.
And, as is the nature of all things, time passed, the girl grew to womanhood and had kittens of her own; but, whether they were in the place of green, growing things or the place of endless bright walls, the woman always kept her friends at her side and the three were inseparable. And because the girl who was now a woman loved the cat, the puffball came to, just perhaps and in its own way, acknowledge the cat. So it was, after many, many years, that one girl grown to womanhood, one grey puffball, and one three-legged cat, still remained the rulers of all they surveyed.
MGK
1 Nov 2005