by David Allen
A lone stray cat lay curled up silently beside a reeking
dumpster at the edge of a dark alley. All around it, the moans and
pained cries of homeless men and women rang through the air. The
beast shivered slightly as a cold breeze slid past.
"Hey, Frank…"
The voice was weak, but very near.
"What?" The
second voice held an equal lack of strength.
"It’s a cat."
The creature opened
it’s eyes slightly at the sound of the familiar word.
It caught sight of
two pathetic looking men in rags sitting across the alley staring at the
cat with hungry eyes.
"I’ll split it with
ya’." The first man said quietly. "Just help me nab it."
The cat stiffened
as the two men crept closer. This was not the first time a starving
man had tried to make a meal out of it. Nor would this be the last
time. The alleys and streets were full of men and women that would
eat anything to survive. Cats were a delicacy.
"I think it sees us…"
The second man sounded edgy. He couldn’t bare to see a meal like
this escape.
"Just be ready."
The cat sprang
into action, rising up on it’s haunches and sliding into the narrow space
behind the dumpster. It could hear the two men cursing under their
breath. Yet the cat knew it was not free. The small space in
which they hid had only two exits. It could see the two men clearly
from its vantage point, one on each side of the dumpster. The cat
knew it was trapped.
"Frank!" The man whispered,
"We gotta get it outta’ there."
The other man knelt
down, "Here kitty…"
The cat had seen this
ploy several times before.
"Here kitty, kitty…"
"What are you doing?"
It was a new voice, one the cat did not recognize.
The voice was
thick with strength and authority. It was the kind of voice that
demanded respect.
The man turned and
shouted something foul at the new arrival. He stepped out of the
cats view still shouting curses, his voice was cut off by a hollow thumping
sound. The sound of him toppling to the ground was unmistakable.
The remaining man spun on his heels and ran.
The cat cocked it’s
head and froze.
A large black man
stepped into view. He was clad in a heap of filthy dark rags.
His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the cat, a smile warm smile spread
creased his lips, "Hello there, mister cat." He laughed softly to
himself. "Were those bad men gonna eat you?"
The cat did not move.
"Well I’ve got somethin’
you might fancy…" The man pulled a small chunk of meat from one of
his pockets. He tossed it to the cat and took a step back.
"You enjoy that, mister cat."
The man silently withdrew from the cats view, leaving it to feast.
The cat began to gnaw on the fresh
meat. It purred slightly as it chewed, savoring every bite.
When it had finished gorging, it crept out from behind the dumpster and
looked around. The large black man sat in a corner several feet away,
shivering in the cold as he slept.
Cautiously, the ragged cat curled
up beside the man and dozed off.
For several days the cat
followed the man around. In the day time they would roam the streets,
sharing whatever food they could find. At night the cat would curl
up next to him and sleep soundly. Sometimes the man would stroke
the cat’s filthy fur with all the affection he could muster.
Both creatures were miserably
homeless. Leftovers from what men called society. Physically
the cat and the man were complete opposites. But in a much deeper
sense, they were the same. There was no room in the ‘civilized world’
for them. The world simply ignored their existence, secretly hoping
that outcasts such as these would die off and vanish.
Together, the cat and the
man shared a certain sadness. It hung in the air between them where
ever they went. They could not ignore it, for it was the sadness
of living on the outside. They were unwanted, unneeded and unloved.
There was nothing that could
hide those sad truths from their view.
One morning the man uncovered
a paper bag full of money. He grinned with excitement, knowing that
money was the key to being a part of the world again. With money
he could afford new clothes and get a job. It was only a start but
the possibilities were endless.
His face lit with happiness,
the man strode toward the ‘civilized’ end of town. The cat followed
closely, sharing his excitement.
They’re journey came to
an abrupt halt after only a few minutes. A band of filthy men emerged
from the shadows, surrounding the man and his cat.
"What ya’ got there, boy?"
one of them asked, his voice thick with hatred.
The man glanced around nervously,
noting that he was outnumbered. He knew he was in trouble, his thick
voice wavered, "I aint got nothin’ but my lunch." He held the paper
bag close to his chest.
"Well guess what?
You in our turf now, and you gotta pay your dues."
The cat mewed softly, taking
several nervous steps toward it’s master.
The fight was short lived.
The gang tore into the man with no remorse, beating him until he had stopped
moving.
The cat lunged into the
fray, desperately trying to protect its master. Something struck
it across the skull, it reeled through the air, landing several feet away
in a pile of refuse. They snatched up the paper bag, sharing cries
of victory and wandered off to split up their find.
The man twitched slightly,
seeing only his dashed dreams and stolen hopes.
Through blurred vision he
watched the cat crawl miserably up beside him.
The poor creatures left
eye was swollen shut, puss dripping from the infected wound. Blood
trickled slowly from it’s ear.
Through a haze of pain and
sorrow the man reached out and placed a comforting hand upon the cat’s
mottled fur. Several minutes later his eyes rolled back into his
head and his breath ceased.
The cat whimpered softly,
sensing the sudden emptiness that emanated from it’s fallen master.
It closed it’s eyes in sad resignation, and for a brief moment it was encapsulated
by a sensation of pure and undiluted peace.
And like an crisp blue wave
collapsing upon an ocean shore, an unfathomable
blackness rushed in from every direction.
The End
