Alex Howard - Library Cat

Their rules take the pleasure out of things.

Library Cat ran and ran in the pouring rain. His paws started to feel numb and cold as he galloped through watery clods of mud on the Meadows. As he ran, he looked over his shoulder at intervals towards the library. The mirage of its grey, square form bounced up and down through the drizzle with the motion of his run, getting further and further away by the second. To his left was the great hill of Arthur’s Seat, shimmering uncannily in the fog as if superimposed there by a lazy special effects editor. He felt himself panting like a dog. Without stopping he darted across a main road. A car braked just in time. Had he been any slower, or had his coat possessed a little more black than light-reflecting white, or had he not stared in the direction of the car with eyes not quite as vibrant and neon green, things would almost certainly have turned out differently. Eventually he slowed his pace, his front legs beginning to buckle. Calming down, he headed up a small alley, called “Meadow Place Lane”. Torrents of water poured out of gutters as a wind howled all around. Everywhere broken umbrellas lay in bins bent and twisted like electrocuted daddy longlegs. The air smelt dank with the fresh smell of moss and earth, which wasn’t altogether unpleasant. Shortly he found himself in a square. A large tree stood in the centre of it, bejewelled with white Christmas lights. Behind it stood a shop called Scotmid.

I’ve heard talk of this fabled place , thought Library Cat gazing up at the large sign. He sauntered over and sat just shy of the threshold, feeling pleasant wafts of warm air slip out during the moments that Humans entered and left through an automatic door. He thought about the journey he’d just made in an effort to keep alive its various details for the return trip.

There was the library, the big park, the car, and then the… what came next?

But the harder he tried to recall the details, the faster they seemed to recede back from view, like a knowing mouse in its hole when it gets the whiff of hungry cat stalking slowly close by the other side.

“Hello, cat, you look lost.”

Library Cat looked up. Above him was a bearded, gangly Human, quite possibly a student, carrying a large square box, from which he extracted and chewed large Trivial Pursuit segments of some doughy food. It smelt wonderfully of anchovies and tuna. Library Cat rubbed his side against the student, purring loudly, and was duly rewarded for his affection with a morsel of the stodgy anchovy goodness which dropped to his feet. It was the most delicious thing Library Cat had ever tasted. The Human started to move away.

Um, I think not , thought Library Cat, trotting after him, his tail held high in the air, as if the Human had suddenly morphed into the Pied Piper of cats. Presently, Human and cat turned a corner towards a large green door that opened into a stairwell.

“No, no, no, you can’t come in here. Go home!”

I’ll go home when I please , thought Library Cat, but first I’m having more of that stodgy anchovy stuff. And I’m also not altogether sure where home is at the moment .

The tenement stairwell was echoey. Beneath Library Cat’s paws were small black and white square tiles as if its Human designers had entertained a funny notion that one day other Humans might be inclined to play chess there. Higher and higher they spiralled until Library Cat felt the warm waft from an open door. He darted in.

It was a student flat. In the room straight ahead of him a few Humans sat on the floor while drinking a clear fluid from tiny cups which seemed to them to be disproportionately funny. From another room to his left, a big black cloud wafted into the hallway as an unspeakably loud alarm started to squeak on the ceiling, while another Human balanced dubiously on a three-legged chair to try and whack said alarm with the end of a broom. And from yet another room, whose door was propped open rather randomly by a traffic cone, there came the noise of “grrrrr”s and “arrrrgh”s (and worse) as another student jabbed away at a laptop keyboard, illuminated exclusively by the dull glow of an adjacent desk lamp.

So this is how the other side live , thought Library Cat, following after the bearded Human and the delicious hammy stuff into the main room with the giggling drinkers.

“Guys, we’ve got a new flatmate.”

“Eeeeeeeeeee! Oh my god he’s so cute, can we keep him?”

Of course you can’t, you moron , thought Library Cat.

“Oh my God, can you pick him up?” said another, hoisting Library Cat up by the belly so that his head and back end flopped pathetically downward like a damp rugby sock.

Kindly place me back down and leave me be .

“Aw, he’s quite friendly.”

Mmmmm… no I’m not .

“He doesn’t seem to bite or claw…”

I have the power to, should I so wish .

“Careful, he’s looking a bit grumpy. I’d put him down if I were you.”

Yes, so would I “if I were you” .

“Have you fed him?”

“Well he likes this pizza…”

“Make him some dinner.”

Good thought…

“Here puss puss puss puss puss. Over HERE puss puss puss…”

Yes, I know. I’m not blind .

“Has he gottun a collar on?”

It’s “has he got a collar on” not “has he ‘gottun’ a collar on”.

“Um no don’t think so…”

“Is he that cat that hangs out in George Square? What’s he called… Library Cat?”

Honestly, you should really know who I am by now .

“Yeah it’s HIM!”

Oh God , baulked Library Cat, squirming suddenly from a clammy grasp and bolting towards the kitchen.

Out in the kitchen, the smoke had slightly subdued and a window had been flung lavishly open, sending great rolling plumes of icy air into the room. Wary from the overabundance of attention he received in the living room, Library Cat eavesdropped upon a conversation through a crack along the hinge of the door.

“He said, that she said, that he said, that he pulled her on a night out,” a boy was saying to a girl.

“Really… no way.”

“Yeah. And Tom said that Livvy said that Lawrence thinks that isn’t true?”

“Right.”

“But did he say to you anything about what she said to him?”

This conversation is unfathomable , flinched Library Cat, backing away from the door, wondering how it was possible for one sentence to have so many pronouns and not one antecedent. That dark room seemed more my kind of room . He made his way to the room with the single yellow light glowing over a desk and behind it a girl holding her head as if its contents might explode. The room was big and cold. An electric heater glowed in the corner, sending out the throat-rasping scent of burning dust. Christmas lights adorned the window, and a pin board hung, slightly skee-whiff, above the desk.

“This question just doesn’t make any sense!” the girl suddenly piped up, rising from her chair and beginning to pace the room holding a scrunched piece of paper that she gazed at in fits and starts. Finally, with one massive sigh, she cast the paper down to the floor, sending it swirling on a little loop-the-loop and coming to rest by Library Cat’s paws at the door. Then she plonked down on the bed in the darkness; a few moments later her face glowed a dullish white from the screen of her mobile phone.