Library Cat: The Observations of a Thinking Cat

Breakfast

Library Cat was trying to sleep. He was counting sheep to help him:

One, and indeed, Two, and indeed Three, and indeed, Four, and indeed, Fiv – hmm, would we call that one a “sheep”? Could be a goat?… And indeed Five, and indeed Six, and indeed Seven…

It was early morning. All around Library Cat’s bed, dust sparkled in a thin ray of sunlight. Around him, books rested in hidden corners. There were thick books, small books, old books with golden spines and bookmarks of red ribbon, boxes of books, and – his favourite – books with small slivers of catnip sitting on top of them.

And indeed Eight, and indeed Nine, and indeed, Ten… On the floor was more ribbon, this time chewed and frayed, and scattered like confetti. To one side was a scruffy bowl of dried food and water, and beyond it, a dusty cat flap that swayed gently in the gusty autumn air.

And indeed Eleven, and indeed Twel… OH IT’S NO USE! Library Cat opened his eyes, a resigned expression on his face. Lazily he raised himself up on his four paws and arched his back up into an old medieval humpbacked bridge. He paused. Then, after a brief shake of the head, he yawned, revealing a whole line of pink, concertinaed ridges along the back of his mouth.

That feels most pleasing, he thought.

And now his paws. First the black one with the white tip – he stretched it right out like a policeman’s truncheon raised in warning. Next, his white paw followed in slow succession. And then he rested (for too much sudden exercise is detrimental to a cat’s constitution). Some moments later, after a brief snooze, he rose fully and walked over to the window. His bedroom was in the basement, and in order to see the outside world he was forced to leap upon a low windowsill and raise himself up on his hind legs, his forepaws on the windowpane, so that his eye line was just about level with the pavement outside. Today, he gazed out blearily. Beyond the cobblestoned road that lay a short trot from the chaplaincy’s railings was George Square, littered with coloured leaves that spun in little vortices of wind along the pavement. It was early autumn and the light was apricot coloured, and as the little leaves spun crisply down the pavement, Library Cat sensed for the first time that summer was well and truly over.

A few moments later, Library Cat was pushing his head out of his grubby cat flap into the chilly morning air. All was perfectly still. A bolt of cold shivered through his paw as he touched it down upon the damp pavement stone. Around him, the tenements eyed each other like battalions of troops frozen in the anticipation of an impending battle. In the distance beyond the square, a bus lumbered drowsily through the early morning mist. On the air was the Weetabixy scent of the McEwan’s brewery that was so characteristic of the city this time of year.

One must not think on an empty stomach, considered Library Cat, and with that he looked down at his paws. The gaps between the cobbles were rinded with dirt and moss, but deep within these gaps there lay little treats that only a cat’s eye might see – bugs! After voraciously lapping up some creepy-crawly hors d’oeuvres, Library Cat turned right and headed to Edinburgh University’s Main Library that stood like a cold grey cube in the silent morning air.

Recommended Reading

Ulysses by James Joyce.

Food consumed

1 x fat beetle, and 1 x millipede thing.

Mood

Moderate, rising. Becoming good.

Discovery about Humans

They don’t come out in the early morning.