Alex Howard - Library Cat

Peace at last! reflected Library Cat. No birds, no Humans. Bliss! Come at me, Nietzsche .

He settled back down for a nap.

“Oh my God, yah, the people sitting opposite me on level 4 just WON’T STOP talking, yah. One of them was even SKYPING! Oh Library Cat! Hi Library Cat! Hi! Library Cat, LIBRARY CAT!”

Oh for goodness sake! fumed Library Cat. The Humans are worse than the birds and they don’t even know it!

Recommended Reading

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.

Food consumed

Almost one bird.

Mood

Grossly irritated.

Discovery about Humans

Sometimes, they are utterly blind to their own hypocrisies.

That afternoon saw Library Cat sitting in a ray of sun. Suddenly an intense feeling of imperiousness washed over him. Riding its balmy wave were his father’s words, remembered from a time when he was no more than a bounding Library Kitten.

“Everything the light touches, Library Kitten, is your kingdom.”

“But what about that far-off shadowy place?” Library Cat had responded. “That’s the Hugh Robson Essay Bunker: you must never go there, Library Kitten.”

Hmm, the Hugh Robson Essay Bunker , thought Library Cat now, some six years on. What’s so unpleasant about it, I wonder. And why should I be denied entrance? More to the point, from what archaic law does my untimely forbiddance derive? Biblio Chat had visited it during his last stay in Edinburgh and had claimed it was an “inspiring” experience .

Then a new thought occurred to him. What if my father were enacting a kind of subversion to put me off the scent of something exciting? A scent such as… say… books, or MICE? Mice live in bunkers after all .

Library Cat recognised his thought development as highly stupid and illogical. His relationship with his father had been strange at times but he never really thought him capable of hoodwinking him away from rodents in the manner that was now occurring to him. But the thought of mice had entered his head. And when the thought of mice enter a thinking cat’s head, they scurry around in there until their presence is so ubiquitous that the cat in question must seek out a mouse to appease the craving.

And so it was that Library Cat, filled with the image of large, tasty mice, ventured from his sunny, concrete throne beside the library on that late October day, and headed to the enigmatic Hugh Robson Essay Bunker. Down the stairs he went.

All at once a sight of terror met his eyes. Humans typing. Constantly typing! Typing and shuffling notes in a pallid hot void of whirring machines. But worst of all were the mice! There were mice everywhere, but they were strange robotic mice with long, genetically modified tails and no eyes. Each one seemed stunned into enacting the Humans’ dastardly deeds, only emitting an eerie “click” as they were dragged across the desks. To hungry Library Cat, they were a parody of temptation.

Get me out, NOW! thought Library Cat, and with that he turned and galloped back up the stairs, crossed the square and resumed his concrete throne.

But the thought stayed with him – the Humans, their robotic rodents complicit and eyeless. Library Cat wanted to shut out what he’d seen, and all its Camus-esque existential hideousness.

Well, at least I now know , thought Library Cat, calming down. But I think I need a normal mouse to get over this. Mmm, normal mice… Normal tasty mice…

Library Cat left his concrete plinth and began to stalk the dirty perimeters of the library, keeping his head low and his breathing soft, hoping for a tasty snack.

There! Just in the corner of the library and George Square Lecture Theatre, he spied what he was looking for: a turgid, naïve field mouse snaffling around for crumbs. Library Cat’s eyes widened. He tiptoed stealthily forward… one paw down… then the other… and…

“Library Cat, Library Cat! Are your thoughts academically citable?”

From behind him there bellowed the stricken voice of a nervous student.

Obviously they are, I’m Library Cat , thought Library Cat, turning his head back to face the student – a girl smoking and wearing a pashmina scarf – in anger.

“Ya, OK, but which referencing system should I use to cite your thoughts, Library Cat?”

MLA , thought Library Cat.

“Why?”

Because the letter L reminds me of the curvature of a mouse’s tail when fleeing in abject fear from my pernicious paw. It stirs me. Now do you mind? I was trying to hunt…

“Thank you, Library Cat, you’ve helped me a lot!”

Honestly , thought Library Cat exasperated. He turned back just in time to see the mouse’s backside disappear down a tiny hole in the concrete behind the library.

And yet another mouse I’ll never see again… fumed Library Cat, his ears twisted back in fury.

Recommended Reading

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig.

Food consumed

(Almost) one mouse.

Mood

Frustrated and cheated.

Discovery about Humans

They are self-absorbed when stressed and should practise feline-inspired mindfulness.

Library Cat watched in horror.

A few yards off, walking imperiously over the cobbles, was his French cousin Biblio Chat. Unlike last year, when Biblio Chat arrived in Edinburgh having given up France for Lent, this year he was on the hunt for a particular book, entitled Mice and Mousing: Towards a Camusian Phenomenology of the Hunt .

It was difficult to describe the level of hostility Library Cat harboured towards his French cousin. Biblio Chat’s jaunty air, his frilly red collar, his late-night Refléxions de Sartre (whatever they were) and his showy rejection of Whiskas wet food all stirred a strange rage in him which he could neither fully understand nor control. He was, in deportment and character, the complete antithesis of Saaf Landan Tom.

Honestly, he should take a look at himself , seethed Library Cat as his cousin trotted, high headed, towards him past the David Hume Tower, ignoring the inevitable attention he garnered among those Human students around him by keeping his eyes semi-closed and his head held high as if he might be bathing in a bright ray of sun, while maintaining his trademark Cheshire Cat smile. He didn’t so much walk as glide and there was something so ethereally learned about him which made Library Cat jealous. Everything about him was preened and shimmering with self-aware Frenchness.