"My Little Kitty"
The best thing Nabi did was sleep with one of the neighborhood cats and have kittens. They looked like everything that is right in this world - absolutely adorable! Other than that, I don't have many good memories of her. Neither does my mom. Over the phone, my mom would constantly let me know what strange sounds Nabi had made all through the night, what sofa she attacked last, what smells she was responsible for. And with each complaint, I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that she was my cat and my responsibility. Nabi was barely manageable when I was still around; without having me there as a dedicated carer, she suffered from neglect and acted in kind. She went from being "My Little Kitty" to "Public Enemy #1".
"Nathan, if you don't do something about this cat, I'M GONNA KILL IT WITH MY HANDS, I swear to God!" - Mom
Sometime during sophomore year, my mom told me that Nabi had gone missing. I told her not to worry, that Nabi was making the most of her freedom and would be home when we least expected it. By then, Nabi was the least of my concerns. I was 400 miles away and preoccupied with sex, drugs and rock and roll (okay, maybe just sex). Secretly, though, I hoped that Nabi wouldn't come back. I hoped that she would find a new, better home and finally relieve my family of the burden and myself of the guilt. Days and weeks passed with no news. My mom never told me if she had come home, and I didn't bother asking.
It's been years since I've seen her last. It was then a complete surprise for me when I saw her in my sleep.
I was lounging in my backyard at home, laying out, enjoying the sun. I then see Nabi, only much older and worse for wear. Her pretty, black and grey coat had been replaced with coarse, thick hairs that accentuated her wiry, muscular frame. In fact, she did not resemble Nabi or a housecat at all; she looked like a bobcat. It wasn't until a mouse started crawling toward me that I recognized her by her voice,
"Don't worry! I got it!"
The mouse leaped out of Nabi's way. Nabi dove and dove again, each time throwing herself around with greater violence. Within a few moments, the mouse had scurried to safety, but not without leaving Nabi in a heap, with several cuts and bruises.
"I'm sorry I let you down." Nabi said with great disappointment.
I inexplicably had Neosporin, cotton swabs and bandages handy, so I began to dress her wounds.
"That's OK. You didn't even have to." I answered, reassuringly, bandaging her open cuts.
Nabi then looked up at me, into my eyes. "You're not going to leave me again, are you?"
I stroked the stiff, hard hairs on the back of her head and took a half-second too long to answer.
"No, of course not." And I meant it.
"Nathan, if you don't do something about this cat, I'M GONNA KILL IT WITH MY HANDS, I swear to God!" - Mom
Sometime during sophomore year, my mom told me that Nabi had gone missing. I told her not to worry, that Nabi was making the most of her freedom and would be home when we least expected it. By then, Nabi was the least of my concerns. I was 400 miles away and preoccupied with sex, drugs and rock and roll (okay, maybe just sex). Secretly, though, I hoped that Nabi wouldn't come back. I hoped that she would find a new, better home and finally relieve my family of the burden and myself of the guilt. Days and weeks passed with no news. My mom never told me if she had come home, and I didn't bother asking.
It's been years since I've seen her last. It was then a complete surprise for me when I saw her in my sleep.
I was lounging in my backyard at home, laying out, enjoying the sun. I then see Nabi, only much older and worse for wear. Her pretty, black and grey coat had been replaced with coarse, thick hairs that accentuated her wiry, muscular frame. In fact, she did not resemble Nabi or a housecat at all; she looked like a bobcat. It wasn't until a mouse started crawling toward me that I recognized her by her voice,
"Don't worry! I got it!"
The mouse leaped out of Nabi's way. Nabi dove and dove again, each time throwing herself around with greater violence. Within a few moments, the mouse had scurried to safety, but not without leaving Nabi in a heap, with several cuts and bruises.
"I'm sorry I let you down." Nabi said with great disappointment.
I inexplicably had Neosporin, cotton swabs and bandages handy, so I began to dress her wounds.
"That's OK. You didn't even have to." I answered, reassuringly, bandaging her open cuts.
Nabi then looked up at me, into my eyes. "You're not going to leave me again, are you?"
I stroked the stiff, hard hairs on the back of her head and took a half-second too long to answer.
"No, of course not." And I meant it.
posted by Nathan at 10:08 PM
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