Odd Cat Out

Macbeth had just finished her early morning patrol of the hallway upstairs, and the whole length of the stairway that dropped down; leaving tiny spheres of her fur behind her like bread crumbs. Then she hit the livingroom, and kitchen settling in nooks of bookcases, and tiny coves between furniture that allowed her passage, to let her elegant bengal circuitous tail (that was like a wisp of spiraling smoke from a bonfire of gold and black, seperating like steps that led into the sky) drift along the tops of cedar or graze the metallic stand that supported the record player. On the way back to her partner Dria and their hiding space in the cellar, she could hear the familiar creakings of one of her newest pet giants rising and grunting from their strange nightly slumber that was only once every night. How, she wondered, could any living soul only sleep once in an entire day? It seemed ludicrous and obscene in a troubling way, but she passed it off as another baffling mystery of these odd creatures. Dria was already there waiting at the top of the stairs for her. Her eyes were so fiercely penetrating that Macbeth couldn’t take it sometimes. She could only rub against her mate and purr to try and silence the unbearable tension that arose from those aqua green serpentine eyes of Dria’s that seemed to jump out of her black fur coat and demand some kind of venerable respect.

Macbeth was wrongly convinced that she was the Alpha of the house, and always made desperate attempts to prove it. After a long while of huddling and snuggling with Dria in their discreet balls of duel warmth on the third step of the chilly cellar stairs, Macbeth was feeling cramped and getting an awful kind of antsy. She knew the recently installed pet giant was out on the couch in the livingroom like some sort of covetous pig, hogging all that territory of couch that could of fit at least six cats to himself. Macbeth looked at Dria and blinked in a challenging and haughty way as if to say:

“You think I won’t do it, don’t you? Well I will, and you’re not stopping me. I’m the goddamn Alpha, and I’ll do anything I damn well please! Just you watch me!”

Dria looked back lazily, not entirely convinced of this heavy look of promise, but loving Macbeth all the same. Dria crouched on her hind legs and stretched her arms out on the stair as she yawned, as if to respond to the cavalier of Macbeth and her high horse respectively:

“You were planning to go stir up trouble, weren’t you? You made all this huffing and puffing, and for what? Well now, why don’t you go then and let me sleep you big blowhard?”

Dria then settled back into a casual paw dangling sleeping position and immediatly dozed. This infuriated Macbeth to the point that her fur rose on her back, making a little mohawk of spite. That wise black cat with brown drops, that were placed in an almost precisely artistic manner, could really get a rise out of Macbeth by just being her aloof self. Macbeth wanted to kick her with a dirty back paw but opted instead to just drool a bit over her, letting the saliva run down Dria’s well groomed back, and leave a split in her fur that made her look like she had a cowlick running down both ways all the way to her belly. It was a passive aggressive move to be sure, but achieved the desired effect. Macbeth stole off their perch on the steps and passed through the kitchen like a thief in the night. Her belly slid across the tiles like a snake, and before the giant had a chance to think, she had crept around the corner to stare with heated authority at the crowing presence of the male giant, who was examining some box-shaped thing with strange symbols and pictures scrawled acrossed it. The giant looked up from his book, and acknowleged Macbeth with a beaming smile. Macbeth was appalled and alarmed by this exchange, though she would never tell Dria that she had been scared. Macbeth could almost feel the gold within her black ringed spots changing to a lighter yellow as she circled back to an already awake Dria who was gingerly passing a felt mouse toy from paw to paw, and meowing in a queer way as she did so. Dria glanced unamused up at Macbeth, who was wearing the bluff of confidence in her walk, and half closed an eye-lid in a way that posed her inquiry with a sneer:

“I thought you were the Alpha? Do you want me to go and dominate for you? Is that what you really want you chicken-shit?”

Though this wasn’t really what Dria meant by her multi-faceted look, it was just what Macbeth saw. If she could have peered closer beyond her increasing well of fears, that were ever present, and stare straight past Dria’s elongated whiskers, she might have seen that Dria had on a happy playful look of a cat engaged in her own imagination and machinations, but regrettably that was not the case. In a mad rage, Macbeth dashed around the corner from the kitchen to the livingroom, and lunged at the reading giant with both arms and legs extended and claws flashing like a fiery throwing star of doom! The giant screamed as Macbeth sunk teeth and claws in his face and hands, causing the female giant to come clumping down the stairs in an outrage, screaming and prying Macbeth free of the scarred giants shuddering form while the she giant and the he giant threw threats at Macbeth’s back as she retreated in victory down into the depths of the house with her newly acquired sense of pride followed by tiny flecks of fear that blew up behind her like soft gusts of wind from an overhead ceiling fan.

Several hours later, Dria was still staring at Macbeth with those owlish eyes, and Macbeth was trying to ignore her. She knew what Dria was saying though, it wasn’t that hard to guess.

“Why do you do these drastic things, Macbeth? Now you’re punished, and you probably won’t get as much food as I will. You know I’ll share with you like always, but it really doesn’t help your case when you act a fool like this. If you really want to be in charge you must be more like the cool and calm waters that gradually weather the stone. You can’t just take an eye out, and think that’s that, ‘I’m in charge’.”

Macbeth crept around Dria in a circle, and hopped on the dryer before leaping onto the heating system where she spent most of her time brooding. Dria shook herself and thought ‘It’s going to be another long day’, before following her reckless partner up into the dark recesses they called their home away from home.

The End

©

4/28/19

Bunny Villaire

(Edit #4)