story
Changing the facts
Middle of the night Cat woke me up with the pat-pat-pat…. stillness…. pat-pat-pat that suggested a kill-in- progress. On my bed. He knows not to bring them indoors and I’ve been finding dead baby rats in the garden for about a week, but maybe he wanted me to know and congratulate him or something.
Anyway, I roused myself and turned on the light but the movement and so forth disrupted the system and I was greeted by Cat snuffing and seeking amongst the bed clothes. Where the fuck had it gone?
There followed a companion-piece, like some kind of 80s cop-show duo, he and me seeking and searching, me lifting and he pursuing, on the bed, in the bed, between the layers. No sign of any prey. The sound of his keen in-out smelling focus was loud and clear, quick breath out, deliberate certain breath in, over and over.
He peered over the edges of the bed on each side, giving a short blast of smell-location as he did so, and then jumped down to seek under the bed. I shook everything out. Still nothing. Then he went off to search the rest of the flat. I waited a while then, exhausted, lay down and switched off the light. Knowing it wasn’t in my bed, and knowing he can see quite well in the dark, and knowing there really wasn’t anything else I could do, what else was there to do but lay down?
After a few minutes Cat came back and jumped up to search the bed again. Judging by his continuing smell seeking, it was definitely the bed where the creature had last made any impression. Being too smart to waste effort, and no doubt the trail fading already, Cat lay down too. Then changed position, and shuffled about, got up, searched again, and came to lay down by my arm. He was restless but apparently resigned in the same way I was.
Then he took my wrist between his teeth and gripped. He sometimes does this as a love token, a gentle but firm hold of the edge of my arm or wrist as if to imply “I hold you dear”. But a love message seemed inappropriate to the situation, and sure enough he moved his jaws in such a way that I could feel the tiniest pin-prick of his teeth once, twice, then a gentle firm pressing down, followed by a move to a different spot, then the same again. I said his name in a voice to signal upset and he stopped right away. Settled down, had a wash, moved to my legs, went to sleep.
It seemed very much as if he was sharing with me the frustration of having been thwarted in his desire to chomp and crush with his jaw. The search had been a joint effort, and we also the frustration of the lost prey.
This morning he was over it. Meanwhile, I’m delaying the efforts of dismantling my bedroom to locate the dead or dying prey before it starts to stink.
Anyway, I roused myself and turned on the light but the movement and so forth disrupted the system and I was greeted by Cat snuffing and seeking amongst the bed clothes. Where the fuck had it gone?
There followed a companion-piece, like some kind of 80s cop-show duo, he and me seeking and searching, me lifting and he pursuing, on the bed, in the bed, between the layers. No sign of any prey. The sound of his keen in-out smelling focus was loud and clear, quick breath out, deliberate certain breath in, over and over.
He peered over the edges of the bed on each side, giving a short blast of smell-location as he did so, and then jumped down to seek under the bed. I shook everything out. Still nothing. Then he went off to search the rest of the flat. I waited a while then, exhausted, lay down and switched off the light. Knowing it wasn’t in my bed, and knowing he can see quite well in the dark, and knowing there really wasn’t anything else I could do, what else was there to do but lay down?
After a few minutes Cat came back and jumped up to search the bed again. Judging by his continuing smell seeking, it was definitely the bed where the creature had last made any impression. Being too smart to waste effort, and no doubt the trail fading already, Cat lay down too. Then changed position, and shuffled about, got up, searched again, and came to lay down by my arm. He was restless but apparently resigned in the same way I was.
Then he took my wrist between his teeth and gripped. He sometimes does this as a love token, a gentle but firm hold of the edge of my arm or wrist as if to imply “I hold you dear”. But a love message seemed inappropriate to the situation, and sure enough he moved his jaws in such a way that I could feel the tiniest pin-prick of his teeth once, twice, then a gentle firm pressing down, followed by a move to a different spot, then the same again. I said his name in a voice to signal upset and he stopped right away. Settled down, had a wash, moved to my legs, went to sleep.
It seemed very much as if he was sharing with me the frustration of having been thwarted in his desire to chomp and crush with his jaw. The search had been a joint effort, and we also the frustration of the lost prey.
This morning he was over it. Meanwhile, I’m delaying the efforts of dismantling my bedroom to locate the dead or dying prey before it starts to stink.
