Library Cat: The Observations of a Thinking Cat

Puddle Cat

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.

Maybe it has rained so much out there that the Humans are being forced to sail to and from their appointments? “Dogger”, indeed! It sounds like a horrendous place and I hope never to go there.

However, there was something comforting about the Shipping Forecast. It was like a big warm blanket. As the soft voice wafted downstairs and the rain beat ever harder on the windows and gurgled ceaselessly down the gutters, Library Cat imagined he was a ship’s cat aboard a great galleon, bound for lands afar where he would uncover great culinary and literary treasures. Part of him hoped the rains would never stop, and that in sleep, he’d merge with his dream. But stop they did. A few days later, the rains waned, and Library Cat ventured outside to stretch his legs, refreshed from proper sleeps, and feeling really quite good in himself. Along the gutter, silvery puddles reflected the white sky above with crystal clarity.

A sudden thirst struck Library Cat, and he sauntered off the kerb towards one of the puddles for a drink. All of a sudden, as he looked into the puddle, he became utterly spellbound.

Library Cat had never given much thought to the subject of love. Last Valentine’s Day he’d concluded, after some thought, that “The Valentine”… was a purely Human concept perfectly befitting that specie for whom copulation only occurred on 14th February each year, and who saw fit, on this day, to buy each other odd pre-copulation gifts such as candles that released poisonous fumes, and terrifyingly turgid red bags of air that floated around hallways making unearthly bangs when touched by a clawed paw.

And then it hit him. Love. It shot into focus like a humungous telescope, bringing into his vision the eternal, infinite colours of the universe. The stars in all their yellow brilliance. The soft blue swirls of Neptune. The deep, red, towering supernovas. And who was the cat that had caused such tectonic stirring? Who was the cat that had finally kindled love in our hero’s tiny, feline breast? PUDDLE CAT!

Puddle Cat was beautiful, with a shiny coat and long whiskers. Puddle Cat was stunning. Library Cat was in love. Suddenly the world around Library Cat seemed to dissolve; all but himself, Puddle Cat and a sprouting autumnal narcissus remained. He’d forgotten all about his drink of water.

He walked back the chaplaincy holding the image like a red laser dot, flickering and ungraspable. His heart beat hard. He felt delicious as the thought of Puddle Cat washed over him.

He pushed his way through the cat flap and into his bed, and there he stayed, kept awake by his own purring.

Recommended Reading

‘Sonnet 18’ by William Shakespeare.

Food consumed

Dissolved piece of mud.

Mood

Enraptured.

Discovery about Humans

They trivialise perfection.