Alex Howard - Library Cat

I am going to join the movement! he asserted to himself, followed by a loud and sonorous “Meow!” (which, to a Human, translated as “Hark!”) He bit the questionnaire off its railing skewer, walked over to the library steps, placed it on the ground and manoeuvred himself square in front of it. With a stretch of his paws, a shake of his haunches, and a twist of his whiskers, he poised himself ready to fill it out.

But then he realised he had a problem. Yes, you’ve guessed it, Human. He looked down bemusedly at his paws… he didn’t have a pen.

I’ll “think” the form complete , thought Library Cat, and proceeded to think the form complete as follows.

DO YOU AGREE WITH THE CLOSURE OF THE LIBRARIES?

Having thoroughly considered the adverse effects that library closures would exact upon the serendipitous consumption of discarded bacon rind, I wholeheartedly condemn this move. It would be deleterious. The books? The strokes? The chairs… I mean ARE YOU DAMN MAD?

Forename: Library

Surname: Cat

Occupation: Cat

Address: Library

Date of Birth: The early twenty-first century

Do You Own Your Property? If I sit on it, then yes .

Ethic Background: Black & White / Thinking Cat

Orientation: Currently west-facing .

Library Cat felt satisfied. Getting his feelings out made him feel much better. His breathing that had formerly been elevated with excitement began to settle down again. He looked around at the other Humans to see how they were reacting to the news that the library might close. Outside on the library’s great concrete forecourt, there was a lot of shouting. Placards were being waved, and people stood at desks with pens and posters trying to accost passers-by. Some appeared to be offering cake to incentivise enrolment.

Others shouted down a megaphone that amplified their voices to the level of a landing jet plane, so that they might outdo those around them who were just talking normally. And in the middle of the fracas, a man with a grey beard walked up and down with a board over his front and back shouting that all these ideas were phony and that everyone would go to hell if they didn’t stop and talk to him about God instead; but then even he slid behind a desk and tried to tempt people away from the fire and brimstone with a nice cup of warm tea, for which he required a £1 donation.

Library Cat’s ears flattened at the jabber of the senseless din. Why don’t they listen to each other, instead of trying to convince others about their own thoughts? Surely they’d learn that their ideas cancel each other out, in the same way that mixing acid with alkali makes water , mused Library Cat with a certain pompous confidence at his glistening comparison.

He began to feel a little uneasy again. Everyone seemed trapped in their own little bubbles of self-righteousness, while phrases like “common good” and “the people” and “Faslane” flew through the air like tiny javelins. If there was one colour to describe all the people in the scene, it’d be red. And red made Library Cat nervous. Red wasn’t his world; his world was the colours of blue and green… possibly with a hint of taupe.

There must be a name given to all this caterwauling , mused Library Cat. I wonder what it is?

“Time for a New Politics!” a voice shouted triumphantly.

Library Cat sighed. It’s that “Politics” thing. The time has come again. I guess I should get to the bottom of this politics business once and for all.

So Library Cat sat down in a muddy urn of daisies next to the library café and adopted the stature of a sphinx, proudly guarding the pyramids and ancient secrets on the banks of the Nile. It was the correct posture for thinking deep things, and Library Cat often adopted the sphinx pose whenever there was an especially challenging concept that needed pondering. It was a kind of mark of respect to the great cats of ancient Egypt.

The great cats who were worshipped as gods by their Human servants as is correct , Library Cat often thought. He closed his eyes, tucked his paws back on themselves, swept his tale close in to his side, and stared to think.

Who was a Politics? And what does a Politics do? he pondered.

It occurred to him over time that a Politics made things called Laws. And Laws stopped the Humans from doing Bad Things. Like Cycling on the Pavement, and selling day-old tuna.

But who actually was a Politics? Let me break the word down… First, there was “Poli-”. Well, “Poli-” or “Poly” comes from the Greek prefix “polýs” which means “many” , thought Library Cat with satisfaction. Yes, like “Polycarbonates” means Many Car Bonnets, and “Polyamorous” means many… well… Cat Best Friends… But what about “-tics”?

Was that not a tic I noticed this morning, on my white paw? Those annoying blood-sucking creatures? Yes , thought Library Cat, looking back it the tiny lump on his white leg, small and firm like a chocolate raison. I have a tic right here. They have that annoying trait of continually sucking your blood even when you think you’ve licked them off. And then they grow fatter and fatter on your blood. And then there reaches a point when they’re SO engorged by your hard-earned blood – good, honest blood that you’ve worked hard to nourish and oxygenate – that they eventually drop to the floor dead, martyrs to their own greed…

Now let’s put the words together , thought Library Cat.

“Poli-” and “-tics”. “Many Blood Sucking Creatures”. The Humans recruit many of these Blood Sucking Creatures to Stop them doing Bad Things. Okay…

All of a sudden, there was a stir around Library Cat.

“Library Cat, Smile! Wow, this could be your campaign poster!!!!”

“Quick, Get the Library sign in behind him!”

*Click*

“And again!”

*Click*

“Smile!”

*Click*

“Any thoughts on the laws you’d pass, Library Cat?”

Bloodsuckers , thought Library Cat, turning away and heading back to the chaplaincy quite exasperated.

Recommended Reading

Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell.

Food consumed

1 x ant (mistakenly).

Mood

Apathetic. Cynical and lofty.

Discovery about Humans

They tend to value their own beliefs above those of others. They have “Laws” where cats have intuition.

In the days that followed the political demonstrations in George Square, heavy rains set in. Library Cat remained indoors. Cars sloshed over the cobbles sending streaks of water down against the panes of his bedroom window. From upstairs, a radio garbled through the day in a sort of post-apocalyptic refrain: “Dogger, severe easterly six to seven, cyclonic in places, good; Forties, Cromarty, Fair Isle, eight to nine, warning of gales later, moderate or good, occasionally poor.”

Library Cat was baffled by these strange broadcasts. They seemed to come from another world. Eventually, he ascertained that the broadcasts related to the waters surrounding the United Kingdom and were called “The Shipping Forecast”, but he was unsure why they were relevant or to what ends the Humans were to appropriate the information.