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I am the adoptee of two cats, and I love them dearly. They each have different personalities. Belle believes my purpose in life is to cater to her and avoid sharing the air she breathes. Alright, you furry brat, take your toys and shove ‘em.
My second cat, Theo, is a relentless attention seeker and has a bottomless belly. He gets into things, headbutts me, and nips my chin. He is a curious cat — you heard the adage, “Curiosity killed the cat.” How is he still alive? He is a professional thief; you need something stolen and hidden? He’s your man.
Have you ever felt they can read your mind when they look at you? Have you noticed that they want to have a conversation with you? My point is they can.
My cats have alarm clocks built-in. Their alarms go off at 3:00 a.m. and again at 5:00 a.m. holidays and weekends are irrelevant, and there are no sick days or days off for good behavior.
I drag my sleepy self to the kitchen. Set up the coffee pot and tap the life-reviving power button. I lean on the counter and watch the liquid magic pool to the bottom of the glass pot. I breathe in the aroma for a much-needed jumpstart, “Belle, smell that. Doesn’t it smell wonderful?”
“Smells like something Theo left in the litterbox for you.”
What….?
I told you! I didn’t imagine things.
Feeling slightly off-center, I ask Belle, “Did you grumble at me?”
With her bright eyes and loud voice, she meowed a response. Alright, Maryanne, pull your shit together. Sit, sip your coffee and let the caffeine kick in.
“Hey, Can Opener! Did you forget something?”
I took a deep breath and looked down at Belle, “Well, our food. Do you plan on starving us to death?”
My jaw dropped, “Yeah, with an attitude like that, you will.” Holy shit, I just answered a cat. It’s official, I have finally lost my last marble, and I am sure Theo hid it.
Belle huffed and pranced away, “Theo, we are going to starve today!” She looked back and gave me a mean squint.
A speedy deeper voice came running from upstairs, “What?! Belle, I am too young to die! Please, I need to eat.” He prances in front of the oven glass door, examining his big belly, “I am wasting away.” He mopes his way to the living room behind Belle.
Come on, caffeine; it’s time to kick in. I put the cat food down and called Belle and Theo to breakfast. They must be holding a grudge — I giggle — or starved to death.
I grab my coffee, today’s newspaper, and read…. “Theo, I am about to whoop your furry ass! Where are my reading glasses?” I mumble, “probably somewhere with my last marble.”
I walk into the living room, and Miss. Belle strolls past me with her nose in the air and goes to her food bowl with Theo right at her side; full of exciting energy, Theo is happy to announce, “I knew we weren’t going to starve. I knew it! I knew it, Belle. I knew it!”
“Theo, shut up.” Theo crouched a little and gave his classic sad eyes to Belle.
Suddenly a smell came lurking from upstairs. It made it to my nose, “Damn it, Theo! You nasty boy. You stink. Ugh!”
I hear a burp from the kitchen, “What?” In walks Theo, “I made a present just for you. I hoped that you would like it.” He gazed at me with his big pathetic eyes and put his head down.
I took the tag off from my new sweatshirt and got dressed. I know I am well caffeinated, “Hey, can I have that? I want the tag. I love tags. Come on, can I have it?” Theo pranced around, begging at high speed.
Belle jumps up on the bed and yawns, “Theo, you are a dork.”
I dropped the tag to the floor. Theo was thrilled. Tossing it up in the air and giggling between loud purrs. Belle grumbles, “Moron.”
I collect my socks and head downstairs to the kitchen to put them on. A golden envelope was lying on the table; I turned it over and opened the red wax seal. In it was parchment paper. Written in exotic lettering, it read…
“Blessed Maryann,
With your genuine kindness and love built through reincarnated generations, you have been granted the ability to communicate with your Egyptian ancestors, the feline bloodline.
Your admiration and genuine heart have opened this door to understanding your native language.
Goddess Bastet”
No time to comprehend my gift. I hear Belle, in a tattle-tale tone, “Theo, you are in big trouble. I can’t wait to see this. You are getting a spanking this time,” and she chuckled.
Theo casually walked up to me, purring and rubbing against my leg, “Theo, what did you do?”
Without answer, he went into his favorite hiding place, under the recliner. With snarkiness, Belle said, “Theo left a present for you on your clicky box.”
I walk into the living room to find someone had thrown up on my laptop keyboard, “Theo!”
He scampered upstairs, whimpering the whole way, “My belly hurt. You are mean, Belle. Mean!”
Communicating with cats can be considered a blessing. Still, it’s like I have two naughty wild children. Running wildly, accusing me of starving them, furring up my black work slacks, stinking up the house, and puking on my belongings — two naughty children I love dearly.
Belle crawls up on my lap, “I am glad you understand us. We have been praying to the blessed Feline Goddess for a very long time,” Belle yawned and went to sleep.
Theo curls up at the end of the raised recliner with Belle and me, “I love you, Can Opener,” he also fell asleep.
I close my eyes, “I love you too.”
THE END
Maryann Linquist & Mojha R. MacDowell
8/23/21
