Alex Howard - Library Cat

Err… yes I was INCARCERATED, since you must know…

“Yes I did, he seemed fine, but he was in a fight a couple of weeks ago…”

“Ah OK, it could very well be that. Oh come, come, none of that hissing, Library Cat! I think we might need to calm you down! (I think we better give him a shot first just to settle his nerves).”

Um… I think NOT, you slithering bolus of snakes…

“OK, if you think that’s best.”

And what about what I think?!

Library Cat felt the door of his box swing open and the fingers of The Green Human clench around the scruff of his neck. Then he felt the fur by his waist being pinched thickly and firmly as if it were caught in a door. His whiskers trembled. Resisting, he mustered all his strength to drag himself along the table. A thin film of sweat had coated the underside of his paws, and the table was plastic and slippery. As a result, Library Cat’s paws skidded across it as if it were an icy paving slab white with a winter hoarfrost. And then Library Cat’s mind blacked out… numbed into darkness by pain and the smell of antiseptic.

The next thing he knew, all thoughts had ceased. In one corner, he saw a screen with green worms on it that writhed rhythmically to the sound of “bibb-bibb-bibb-bibb”. In the other corner, he saw a second Green Human preparing a strange mixture. Normally, at times like this, Library Cat would devise a plot – a manipulation, a machination, but whenever he attempted to engage his brain in the grip of the Green Human, his mind yelled back in a long, spiralling loop of nouns, strung together like a summer bunting: pain!-SURVIVAL-pain!-SURVIVAL-pain!-SURVIVAL-pain!-SURVIVAL-pain!-SURVIVAL-pain!-SURVIVAL-pain!-SURVIVAL-pain!

Library Cat’s eyes blurred as he saw the second Green Human pour the strange mixture into a thing that vaguely resembled a mouse with a long, straight and extremely sharp tail. He watched the last drop bungee from the end of the container like honey from a spoon. Then they inverted the mouse thing, and pushed the end, sending a little spurt of liquid high into the air.

“You feeling better, Library Cat?”

“M-wah,” said Library Cat weakly, his eyes half closed.

Now the first Green Human tightened their grip as the second Green Human walked purposely towards him and then disappeared beyond him. The last thing Library Cat remembered was the pain of a red-hot, sharp fang pushing thickly into his ruched-up fur.

Silence.

“Library Cat! Can you hear me?”

I can indeed , thought Library Cat.

“Look, a treat! You’ve been such a good boy!”

Kindly don’t patronise me. I’ve been no different to usual. Where am I?

Library Cat looked around him. He was in a waiting room, but was unsure why. Gradually the neurons in his brain started to warm up and flicker with memories, like a cantankerous photocopier receiving its first user of the day. The vet. The Green Human. The gratuitous and sudden cruelty . Tentatively he stood up. He saw, in front of him, a parcel of blooded dressing. Looking at it made him feel suddenly light and faint like a delicate papier-mâché lampshade. Then he remembered. He sat down again. Numerous Humans were stroking him gently. He heard himself purr. This shocked him, because the moment he heard himself purr, he knew that he couldn’t conceal his hostility any longer. He felt relaxed, and grateful for the Humans’ company. A pressure had been released somewhere near his rear end. Gradually he lifted himself upon all four paws once again. The Humans fell suddenly, respectfully quiet as if half-expecting him to break into an exemplary recital of Rimsky-Korsakov’s ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ at the pianoforte. He edged to the side of the table and leapt off.

“M-wahhhh!”

Library Cat had landed with a splat on the floor, all four paws splayed outwards like tent poles, and his aerial image resembling the flayed skin of a Scottish Wildcat, pinned barbarically upon the living room of some nobleman’s mansion.

“Too much too soon, Library Cat,” the Green Human said between laughs. “He’ll be a bit woozy for the next hours. Make sure he remains hydrated, and refrain from giving him salty treats for the next forty-eight hours. Oh and ensure he keeps the cone on.”

Cone? What cone? Why are you talking about a cone? mused Library Cat, mildly perturbed.

And then he noticed. Cutting in along the radius of his peripheral vision was a large plastic circle.

The Cone of Shame! wept Library Cat inwardly as he envisaged how ridiculous he must look with an enormous satellite dish for a head.

If they wanted me to not scratch, they’ve only to ask politely. Oh not the Cone of Shame. Anything but the Cone of Shame!

Later that day Library Cat began feeling his way around the chaplaincy with a massive plastic cone on his head obscuring his view and mocking his spatial awareness. He tried to conceal his humiliation by hiding in the gap between the fridge and the boiler. It was one of his favourite spaces. But the Cone of Shame stopped him. He tried diverting his sorrow by riffling through books, but the Cone of Shame snagged the pages. He tried eating, but the Cone of Shame scooped up his biscuits and flung them in the air. Giving up and feeling sorry for himself, he decided to go for a walk… but the Cone of Shame snagged on the cat flap. Finally, he discovered that the Cone of Shame was much like the barb on a fishing line, and that if he reversed into the necessary spaces, he could get himself into them. So he reversed out the cat flap, reversed through the railings of George Square, and reversed through the glass gates of the library, and up into the stairs to the Towsery.

Sheepishly, Library Cat skulked along the rafters to the Towsery where the warmth of the fire was already circling down the cone and onto his fur. The Head Towser of Edinburgh University Library! Wearing the Cone of Shame. Oh the Humiliation.

As he turned the corner to this evenings gaggle of thinking cats – all either high-tailed among the stacks, nibbling at mice between the rafters, or flicking through ancient tomes by the orange firelight – Library Cat paused, awaiting the inevitable rumble of jeering purrs. Indeed they came, but subsided quickly also. After all, most cats face the Cone of Shame at some point in their lives, and while especially humiliating for a thinking cat, it never need stand in the way of a cat’s character. Promptly the other Towsers jumped up and set to work nibbling the tight meshed plastic around Library Cat’s neck. Library Cat was moved at the sudden act of camaraderie, and felt his humiliation begin to dissolve.

Eventually he was free, and he stretched with plentiful purrs of gratitude, nuzzling the faces of his faithful saviours.

Later, Library Cat headed back to the chaplaincy. He knew that at some point he’d have to confront his Human again. A bubble of panic curdled in his belly. He wondered whether he could trust his Human any more after he’d taken him along to the Vet without asking his permission. He went into his room and hid.

“Library Cat? Oh, Library Cat, come out from under there! All right, all right, I’ll take off my green coat. There. Happy now? Oh Library Cat, please come out from under there. It’s OKAY, Library Cat, trust me. Ahhh… There! You see? I told you…”

Mmm, good stroke.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that earlier, Library Cat. But it was for your own good.”

Please don’t bring up the Green Human. I’ll forgive you in time.

“Don’t give me that look, it was for your own good, Library Cat. Trust me.”