I perched on the thin wooden ledge of the open window, the warm night air rustling my orange fur. This was my favorite spot when we had company. My name, Charles, echoed softly in the distance through the noise of the party, as planned. Sally, an anxious human friend of my human, sat with her knees tightly pressed together, her fingers wrapped nervously around a beer bottle. I could feel her eyes on me like we had a little secret between us.
I also wanted her to scream, for I loved the scent of her fear. It made me powerful. Her essence filled the room with a mix of concern and something else, possibly love. I couldn't quite tell. All I wanted was to keep my balance and Sally’s attention while not being distracted by the street noises below or the party behind her.
“Come here, baby,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Charles, come and sit with me.”
I massaged my torso and jaw against the narrow edge of the window frame and felt a sadistic thrill when I wobbled just enough to make her gasp. I knew I wouldn’t fall. I enjoyed straddling the two bustling worlds, one below and one beside me, with the sounds of laughter and chatter. I adored this quiet moment of mine underneath the noise of the party. Zeroing in on Sally’s anxieties gave me focus and joy. I have always been prone to mischief.
I heard Mike's voice, too, deep and scratchy. I could tell he smoked cigarettes, which I despise. The way he spoke to Sally in a false baritone with pretentious swagger irked me. I’d like to scratch him. His unkempt hair looked fun to claw with my front paws. I imagined the feeling as I watched it blow sideways in the breeze.
Mike’s eyes hovered around Sally, wide and wild, his every gesture an effort to capture her affections. I twitched my tail in mild irritation, for I could sense her discomfort. Sally fully turned her awareness to me, evading his gaze. We exchanged a look, communicating that we would attempt to ignore Mike, regardless of his actions.
I found it amusing- how he struggled to entwine himself around her without getting out of his chair. Observing that Mike’s desire was to be acknowledged by this human whom he loved, I felt his presence bothersome. It reeked of weakness, which I instinctively have the urge to kill.
Visiting with me on past evenings, Sally whispered about lost dreams, unrequited love, and her lack of self-respect. She would not give herself over to someone who loved her as deeply as Mike. Not only did she not deserve his obsession, but his endless affection irritated her. No one with any self-worth, in her less-than-humble opinion, could ever love her.
How could she possibly hold admiration for someone so eager to please, yet so purposeless? I noticed her body language shift as she sighed, her posture rigid. It was clear she needed more from Mike. Passion? Goals? Dreams? She needed a spark, a drive that extended beyond just her. Though rudderless and low, Sally had youth and hope for a successful future. Mike was uninspiring, and though they were both without direction, Sally yearned for a significant life, whereas Mike didn’t seem to care.
I observed him as he grappled for her attention, like I used to chase a laser pointer, blissfully unaware that the magic I sought was beyond my reach. As I licked my paw, I wondered whether watching their interaction was amusing or profoundly sad.
“Why don’t you come sit on the couch with me?” Mike suggested, not to me. His hopeful tone rang in the air like a dinner bell. I knew this wouldn’t work. Sally would not sever our connection- not when I teetered so dangerously close to the edge.
“Shhh… please be quiet. Charles is clumsy, don’t scare him. I swear he’s trying to give me a heart attack.”
I thought smugly about how much more Sally would rather be with me than Mike. I had a hold over her. Making humans fixate on me was my favorite pastime, especially when the idea of touching me increased the scent of their fear. I was a powerful lion.
“Cats have nine lives,” Mike offered flippantly, trying to soothe her worries.
If only he understood how inelegant I could pretend to be, especially with my fluffy belly weighing me down. I couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at the thought of what would happen if I faked a tumble. After all, I was a decidedly ungraceful feline, or so I’ve heard the humans say.
“Don’t go spooking him,” Sally snapped at Mike in a harsh whisper.
Her sharp tone made my ears perk up. It made my heart quicken; her intent was unclear to me. I heard her fierce determination and sat staring, frozen in indecision. A shift occurred. She rose and walked to Mike, speaking to him in hushed anger, breaking our connection. As I watched them bicker, my role in the evening's entertainment unfurled. I was more than a cat in their lives. I was a point of conflict, a symbol of connection and worry that intertwined their fates, even if only for a short while. I was also a pawn.
Again, the human bodies moved. They were saying goodbyes with something bittersweet in Sally's voice. I rubbed against the sill, feeling a twinge of sadness, wishing for a happier sort of trouble, feeling used and abandoned. Alas, I was prone to melancholy and comforted myself in knowing I possess this unbecoming character trait.
Outside the window, in a bigger world, the city loomed large. It felt both like a sanctuary and the scariest place on Earth. As Sally stepped outside with Mike, I risked one last glance down. She was staring up at the moon. He was looking at his feet. The brightness seemed to illuminate everything around them, and her face glowed. I wanted to jump down to her, but my survival instincts were keen. Instead, I remained safely on my ledge, surveying my tiny human home and the chaos swirling within it.
Time passes in a feline way- a series of naps mixed with the desire to play, fight, and love. I count the days by the wear and tear of my favorite chair, once occupied by humans but now owned by me alone. My eyesight is keen and my memory is strong, though my joints ache and I no longer have the desire to eat copious amounts. I find myself unsteady from time to time, so I stay off the windowsill. Truthfully, it was a slow, organic choice. I had forgotten about my youthful high-wire hijinks until today, when Sally showed up again out of the blue.
It’s a party. I wonder when my human is going to stop hosting at some point and let the house stay quiet a little longer, but I don’t terribly mind the intrusion. I like people, even if it takes all my willpower not to bat at their ponytails and bite their ankles.
I remember Sally’s magnetism as soon as her soft voice says, “Hey Charles, hey buddy. How’s my little man? Still so handsome.” I show her my belly. They love it when I do that. Sally scratches me gently under the chin, and I know it is on. Once again, she will be my human for the duration of the festivities. This symbiotic relationship forms.
As I settle onto Sally's lap, my soft orange fur brushing against her cozy sweater, I can feel the warmth between us. The room buzzes with laughter and chatter, but all that matters is our little bubble. With her kind tone, she says she needs me and calls me her steadfast buddy in a sea of unfamiliar faces. I watch the crowd with keen interest. Sally's eyes dart around the room, taking in the new friends mingling with the old. I know she isn’t entirely comfortable; she has not visited in a long while. In this moment, I want to be her secret weapon against awkwardness. With me, she can escape the overwhelming noise, even just for a moment, like we did the last time, but without my shameless youthful acrobatics.
Remembering Mike and his smoky scent, I am relieved he is not present. I can tell from her smell that she no longer lives with the man. I struggle to find a single whiff of him, tire of the task, and bid him good riddance. Sally seems puzzled by her surroundings, and I wonder if she needs Mike to help her find her place among these old friends who have become strangers. I wish to speak up, perhaps flick my tail and remind her of how wonderful it is to be here now with me, and that sometimes, it is okay to let the past be just that. I purr contentedly instead, curling up closer. I see a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and know it is false.
“Hey Charles, baby, hey buddy,” she whispers next to my ear, “I’m going to head out of here soon, and you might not see me again.” I venture a look into her eyes, more for her benefit than mine. “I don’t feel like I belong here anymore. My old friends all think I’m a meanie and a liar.” She puts her mouth next to my ear, and I can feel the warmth of her breath. “You know what?” she whispers close, “I have to agree.” I push my head into her cheek. She recognizes my empathy and is thankful.
“I gotta go. Don’t take it personally. You know I love you,” she says, giving me one last squeeze and setting me down on the carpet. And though I don’t quite understand it in the same way, I give her a suitable heartfelt goodbye. I purr and rub against her leg. I love you, too, Sally.