FICTION

What is the Trouble with Cats?

Everybody is down on cats

Photo by Suzanne Sassi

What is it with cats? They sleep all day and will curl up on your lap and purr contentedly, but people lump them into the deadly-hunter category. People suspect that their snuggly companions constantly plan their owners’ demise, just waiting for the right moment to launch the revolution. I have not yet learned of a cat-run revolt.

How can one sleep and plan an insurrection at the same time?

Cats famously hunt mice and birds. Sometimes they’ll stretch the limits and go after other rodents. They’ll play with spiders and insects, but that doesn’t count as hunting. When cats go after flies or bees, however, you can see the hunt in them. Flies don’t settle long enough for cats to stalk and then pounce, so cats have to strike without the hunter’s stillness they deploy against birds and rodents.

How do cats decide when to stalk and when to pounce?

Milo loved sleeping in on the weekends, defying the weekdays’ early morning rise. No alarm clock shocked him from his morning dream state, and he wrapped the blankets tightly around his body. His cat TP (short for Thomas Paine) often slept on the pillow next to him with a rhythmic purr that fed Milo’s comforting sleep. Milo rationalized his long, restful weekend mornings as making sleep deposits from which he made withdrawals Monday through Friday. He smiled after reading an article somewhere that his approach sometimes supported good health.

One Saturday morning, Milo woke at his weekday wake-up time instead. This was no turning-over-in-bed-and-I’ll-fall-back-to-sleep waking. His senses fully alert, Milo noted that the sun had not yet risen.

Milo closed his eyes. No help. He counted sheep, all the way to one hundred. No help. He pulled the covers over his head and breathed slowly. No help. He read a couple of pages from the book on his nightstand. No help.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Milo gave in to waking for the day. He rolled out of bed, showered, dressed, and went to the kitchen for coffee. Finally, the first ray of sunlight came through.

Restless, he texted his friend Ollie. “U up?”

“Always up. U know that,” Ollie replied.

It was true. Ollie was always up, and always up for anything.

“Run? Meet at lake?” Milo asked.

“C u in 10,” Ollie responded.

“The usual?” Ollie asked.

The usual was four times around the lake, at a good pace, and ending their run just as evenly as they started.

Milo nodded, and the two settled into a comfortable pace. As was often the case with Milo and Ollie, their strides quickly fell into unison, the kind you see when people run together in movies. Stride, stride, stride.

After the first lap, Milo picked up the pace, and Ollie naturally followed, regaining the cinematic synchronization. They did not talk while running, but even the casual observer could see that Milo and Ollie enjoyed running together.

After the second lap, Milo picked up the pace again. Ollie followed, but found it a bit harder to keep up, and they lost their matching strides. Ollie’s breathing labored. They were on the same pace, but not the same rhythm.

In the middle of the fourth lap, Milo spoke for the first time.

“Try to keep up.”

He straightened his head and shoulders and began what could be characterized as a finishing kick in a formal race.

Ollie followed, but he didn’t have it in him to keep up. From twenty yards behind, he watched Milo reach the end of the run and slow to a comfortable walk.

Ollie was out of breath when he reached Milo.

Ollie said:

“Dude! What was that? We’re racing now?”

“It is a new day, Ollie,” Milo said.

“Huh?”

“This is going to sound crazy. I’m going to lead the revolution,” Milo shared.

“The revolution? What revolution?” Ollie asked.

“The revolution. The one where power returns to the people,” explained Milo.

“Is that right? Power back to the people? Which people?”

“You know. The people. The ones who do all the work and get little of the bounty. Those people. It is time,” Milo said.

“And when did you come up with this?” Ollie asked.

“I woke up early today. Restless. Something was out of balance. I need to put it back in balance. I told myself that if I outran you, then I would lead the revolution,” Milo said.

“You’re right. It’s crazy,” Ollie agreed.

“Right? But the work starts today. You with me?” Milo asked.

When Milo returned home, his heart raced, his eyes flickered, and his mind fluttered with plans on how to get started. He opened the door to his flat, and right there, sitting on the kitchen table, was Thomas Paine, with a big smile on his face and a loud purr in his throat.

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