Dinner for cats - A short story



  Diner for cats

  A short story

  by Sebastien Lebaillif

  Copyright 2011 Sebastien Lebaillif

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  1. Scout

  Steve was enjoying the sunshine in his back garden. When the sun came out earlier in the morning, he had decided that was the perfect opportunity to take his breakfast outside, the way they used to do with Janice, his ex-wife. He had cleaned the wooden table and one of the two chairs, carefully putting them in the perfect spot, where they would be in the sun the longest, and went to the convenient store for some shopping. A Sunday newspaper was now sprawling across most of the table, leaving only a tiny space for his big coffee mug and a half-eaten Danish.

  “That’s really nice.” thought Steve squinting at the sun. “Why don’t we have this weather every day ?”

  Memories of when they had arranged the garden with Janice came floating back in Steve's mind. He had kept the house since she wanted to move back to Australia to be closer to her family, probably the main reason that drove them apart in the first place.

  He was living here alone for almost 2 years now. At first the house seemed a little too big for him, the extra space sometimes made him feel like he was living in a ghost house. He would leave traces of human life everywhere, a half-finished drink here, a pair of dirty jeans there, just to make it look more alive. With time though he had adjusted and stopped doing that.

  Nearing 45 he was quite attractive still, tall and fairly muscular, he went to the gym everyday to keep in shape, and he dyed his short black hair every other week. He dressed with simple elegance, using the timeless formula of white shirt and black trousers. He hadn't had any serious relationship since his divorce, and he was quite happy this way for the time being.

  In front of him the grass seemed to scream “green” in the sunshine. Along the fence, the tall shrubs young leaves and buds had materialized by magic. He hadn’t noticed them yesterday. Spring was really here. Steve took a moment to observe in more details the flowerbeds noting mentally that he would have to spend a couple of hours next Sunday to work the garden.

  He took another sip of coffee, returning his attention to the sports page of the newspaper, when movement caught his eye. A cat was lazily strolling on the grass. It must have come from behind one of the shrub.

  “Where did you come from little buddy ? Is there a hole in the fence ? Or did you climb it ?”

  That last thought was a relief; Steve hated having to deal with his neighbors, especially for fence business. The pettiness of those haggling matches, who was supposed to pay, what material to use, etc, always made his skin crawl.

  Steve was soon captivated by the grace and the insolent carelessness of the animal. It had not glanced at Steve even once, proof that it didn’t consider the human a threat.

  “It's like it can somehow smell that I am totally relaxed.”

  The cat’s coat was a beautiful uniform deep gray, shining almost blue at times. The fur looked smooth and soft, inviting. It had been a long time since Steve had petted a cat.

  It stopped suddenly, and cocked its head towards Steve as if it had heard his thoughts. The copper eyes shone warmly in the bright light. Slowly, it started changing course and approaching the table, still walking lazily, its tail a straight vertical line.

  “Where do you think you’re going ?” said Steve.

  The cat raised its head slightly, sniffing the air and blinking for an instant.

  “Oh, you want food don’t you ? You look well fed to me; why should I give you anything ?”

  There was enough Danish left to share, but he didn't want to risk the cat coming back later and becoming a nuisance.

  A couple of meters from the table, the cat stopped and sat, its shiny eyes firmly set on the food it could smell.

  “Oh no, forget it, I’m not giving you anything.”

  Steve could see that the animal was not wearing any collar, so he couldn’t sure if it was a stray cat, or if it belonged to someone in the neighborhood who hadn't bothered labeling his pet. Thin scars decorated its muzzle and ears, no doubt mementos of the fights it had been through.

  “Probably a male then.”

  The unblinking stare and the patient wait of the cat started to soften Steve’s heart. He couldn’t help smiling when he noticed the tip of the tail bouncing left and right, the only thing that disproved the cat wasn’t a well-carved statue.

  “So, you want to show me that you’re a well mannered cat, that you can wait for your food. Well, alright, I’ll give you something to eat, you’ve earned it.”

  Steve took a piece of Danish and threw it towards the cat. It landed between them, a meter apart from each other. The cat retracted its head; it seemed like an offense it had to move to get to the food. After an instant hesitation, it nevertheless cautiously approached the piece of Danish, sniffed it a couple of times, before condescendingly wolfing it down. Steve was struck that an animal body language could be so expressive, and that, he, could understand it.

  He was ready to throw another piece when something, Steve couldn't say what, made the animal turn its head briskly towards the rear of the garden, its ears pointed up. Without warning, the cat started running. It disappeared briefly in the shrubs, before Steve could see it climb up the fence and then jump down in the neighbor’s garden.

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Cat. I am very happy to have made your acquaintance.” said Steve sharply.