Alex Howard - Library Cat

Soon the pair turned the corner into an alley. It had the soft bite of intrigue that all cut-through alleys in Edinburgh have. A sign bearing the name “Heriot Place” glimmered whitely on an ancient black and brown wall that itself was labelled “Telfer Wall” in ornate, gold letters. The air was lambent with catnip and scent marking. Ahead of them, the alley stretched out threateningly, its wet, narrow pavement gleaming like steel in the reflection of the full moon above. About halfway down, Library Cat could see a group of cats huddled beneath a flickering light. As they advanced closer, Library Cat glanced up at the enormous tenement buildings either side and wondered in which direction he’d bolt if things turned sinister. It was either back down to the main road the way he’d arrived, or straight ahead into the deeper, darker gloom of the unknown. Dogs barked in the distance; a few Humans nearby smashed something glass on the floor.

Finally, the pair arrived.

Library Cat eyed the cats in the group. It was immediately evident which one was attractive to him. In the corner, half-concealed by bracken, a small tortoiseshell sat wide-eyed beneath an electric meter. Her paws were extended down determinedly in front of her as if she was trying to resist being pushed forward from behind. Quickly, Library Cat preened his face and the backs of his paws, and with adrenaline rushing through him, stood up and trotted over to the tortoiseshell. He sat down in front of her. Holding Library Cat’s glance, the tortoiseshell purred melodically and began rolling her snake-like coat over and over on the muddy path, a white paw outstretched celestially towards Library Cat like God’s hand breathing life into Adam in Michelangelo’s Creation . Library Cat was transfixed. He didn’t know where to look. This is amazing! He trotted over and nuzzled her. Her fur felt like silk. For a moment he smelt the sweet stagnancy of her breath. It was tinged with the reek of a Sheba terrine. The purrs of the two cats harmonised for one moment. One blissful time-stopping moment.

But then all became strange. The tortoiseshell flinched, suddenly, and became wide-eyed. A certain awkwardness stole through the air. The two cats surveyed each other silently for a moment. Library Cat didn’t know what to do. A weird heat started to rise inside of him from the sheer embarrassment. What had gone wrong? Do something, do something, Library Cat . The awkwardness was terrible. This couldn’t go on. Finally, with a de-clawed paw, Library Cat gently biffed her on the side of her back while uttering the only icebreaker line he knew: “Prrrrrrrrp?”

Almost instantaneously, the tortoiseshell quadrupled in size. Her fur extended out into the air, and her cavernous mouth opened brutishly to reveal a long track of fangs through which she spoke a deep, spitting, sibilant hiss, swiping her paw against his side, before darting down the close and into the gloom.

Well, that went well , thought Library Cat, as certain other members of the cat fraternity turned to eye him, standing alone, his paw still outstretched. Two amorous white cats looked up from their canoodling. A ginger, eating a mouse, paused mid-chew and gazed over. A clutch of tiny mewing shorthairs, suspiciously young and probably still within kittenhood, played boisterously over the silence. Finally, breaking the stasis, a green-eyed alley began walking towards Library Cat poised-of-claw, but thought better of it as Library Cat rose sharply to his feet and growled him down.

“Grrrrrrrooaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrooooooooooooooooow wwwwww…”

And then it happened. Suddenly the scene became a throbbing ball of fur, fangs and noise. Hisses, scratches, swipes and bites all tumbled over each other as Saaf Landan Tom – originally enjoying the company of an amorous she-cat near a litterbin – bounded into the middle of the scene like a lion, thrashing this way and that.

And then nothing. Library Cat was alone. The alley was empty, with the cats seeming to have evaporated into thin air. He had no idea where they had all gone, and was loath to cry for Tom, lest the baying throng stampeded back for some reason. A dog barked nearby. He shivered. Looking down at his paw, he noticed a few red beads of blood beginning to plush up on its white tip like tiny berries. He dunked it down in a nearby puddle to wash it.

And then he saw her again. PUDDLE CAT! Her whites ripped and silver; her blacks velvety and ethereal; her eyes flickering like emeralds and her whiskers like white lace; and her expression seeming to speak the secrets of a thousand interminable years of knowledge and wisdom.

Library Cat was speechless and, more to the point, thought-less. Gently with the sweet-terror of a Petrarchan prince, he moved his mouth closer to the image. ( She moved in too! Oh the joy! ) He wanted to contain the moment forever but couldn’t think how. Could he kiss her? He must kiss her. I have to kiss her! And with that, he lowered his head down to hers, and was just about to rub his cheek against her soft head when…

“Eow!”

Saaf Landan Tom jocularly sat down in the puddle sending a raft of muddy ripples fleeing in all directions from the sheer bulk of his enormous fluffy backside. He had something in his mouth. It was a note:

Sorry about that mate. Not what I planned. Home?

As the two cats wended their way back along Lauriston Place, their breath pluming little clouds of condensation in front of them, Library Cat began to feel a little… how might we put it… unusual. He had only had a few snickets of catnip, and was initially feeling a little woozy and lightheaded – a perfectly normal response. But now things were turning strange. Objects began to take on the shape and fluidity of a Salvador Dalí painting, with melting colours and sounds. Fireflies seemed to buzz above his head, and he found himself bounding up joyfully to snap at them only for them to disappear into the black. Traffic lights and dustbins suddenly seemed to gain an alarming and inexplicable sentience. All of a sudden, shimmering in front of his eye line, he could see himself linking with Puddle Cat in an ensouled room, red with light and ablaze with bitter sublimation. Her black fur was interminably deep like jet, while her white fur was glowing moon-silver like platinum. Now she emerged purring through the gloom to Library Cat on the street, nuzzling him gently. And then they were eating mice after it had happened, and then… nothing… All images vanished as a diorama of blackness passed across his vision.

Recommended Reading

Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh.

Food consumed

Watery lumps of jellied chicken, a mouse, half a lamb kebab, and some grade-one catnip.

Mood

Heady excitement, to delirious, to a crushing nihilistic disappointment.

Discovery about Humans

Their abuse of chemicals at night isn’t as incomprehensible as previously thought.

Shame. That’s what Library Cat felt right now. Pure, unadulterated cat shame.