The Cat That Came Back

Mark was a good child. He didn’t argue with his mother’s curfew, he went to church three times a week with his parents, and he bought his little sister gifts when he had the extra money. In fact, one of Mark’s only big flaws was that he did not know how to respect boundaries. This came out when he poked Stella, his sister, one too many times in the back, or when he played with his mother’s makeup when he knew that she had asked him a million times to leave it alone.

His lack of understanding boundaries came to a head one day while he was playing with his cat outside. The creekbed was almost dry since this had been a very light summer for rain, but it was still deep enough for Mark to wade through with his shoes off - it was safe since he could see the bottom. He held the cat above him, careful not to spook her with the moving water that leapt through and around his ankles. They played fetch for a while on the other side of the shore and Mark threw the stick closer and closer to the stream until it plopped in, taking his little cat by surprise. She sniffed the water before turning her nose up at it, recognizing this stream and her history with it. Mark was sneaking behind her, grinning at his luck, before she turned around and walked past him. He muttered a child-friendly curse before trailing the cat further into the mesquite trees.

Despite blending into her surroundings perfectly, the cat moved with caution and regularly glanced behind her, although for what is unknown. All Mark knew for sure was that she led them away from the stream with purpose, and that he was already peeved about it. He tried distracting her by throwing bugs out of her path, stones far away to entice her with the noise, anything, but she did not stop until she got to a small rock, ten minutes away from the stream, and lounged across it to nap. Mark rolled his eyes, but laid down next to the beautiful tabby, who nuzzled near him. She seemed comfortable around him for the first time in a while.

Unfortunately, as she snoozed, he picked her up in his arms, rocked her gently back to complacency, and strolled as slowly as was necessary back to the stream. The leaves rocked overhead in warning, the rocks threatened to trip him but could make no physical moves of their own, and Mark continued to bring the cat back home. Or, almost home, as it turned out. He rounded the corner of the beaten path back to where the water made gurgling sputters, as if drowning on its own words, and he cradled the cat deeper into his neck. The cat was at peace.

Then, he sharply raised it and chucked it from him. She sailed into the stream, hitting with impressive accuracy for a child just barely over the tottering stage, before screaming in hate and scrambling as far away as it could. Between the furious trees and the deepening of the sky, it was not long before Mark lost sight of the cat completely, and his shouts to come back did nothing but scare away whatever animals remained after the desperate wailing of the tabby.

Mark went home slowly, more silent than ever before. He did not speak to his parents at dinner, did not play on the wooden rocking horses with his sister before bed. He simply locked himself in his room and prayed to be forgiven by the cat. His mother heard his whispers and let him be.

He had no faith in his solitude though, and jumped up at every sound. The crack of thunder was the tree limb that his precious cat had been hiding on snapping, the howling in the background is a coyote chasing his beloved pet, and the knock on the window was the knock of another imaginary family member here to lecture him on his wrongdoings. He pondered what he did wrong, why his friend no longer wanted him, and he knew it was his fault. The cat knew what he was doing, that he was going to toss her into the creek once again, and she didn’t put up with it this time. She didn’t skulk up the bank, dripping and half her size. He didn’t get to find the same bemusement that he always did.

Not until lightning flashed and he saw that his window was open, that there was something moving underneath. He jumped up to examine, hoping but not expecting to see her.

A low hissing notified him of her presence in the room. He grinned and made a move to hug her, welcome her back, soaked in rain and all, but her stature held him back. The stern talks he had received about space and boundaries from his father came back to him, and rather than embrace his almost-abandoned pet, he laid out his bath towel for her to lay on, curled up on the opposite side of the room, and watched his friend sleep.