Fiction

Cooper the Cat

Steven Fox’s Alphabet Challenge, Day 3 ~ The letter “C” is easy. My own name begins with “C”. Many of my favorite things in life begin with this letter: candy, chocolate, cookies, cupcakes, comedy, comfort, cottage, cuisine, cats. The most difficult part of today’s entry was narrowing down the subject. Because Cooper, the cat, changed my life in a wonderful way, Cooper wins. If cats had a voice, I think Cooper’s story would go something like this…

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The cold or the abuse? Cooper pondered as she watched life unfold outside through a closed window. Technically the cold IS abuse, though probably not as severe as the abuse I’ve suffered at His hands. I do love the human children. I don’t wish to leave them. However, I am beginning to fear them too. They have learned too much from the monster they call Dad.

Cooper’s decision was made. She would leave. She was no stranger to the outside world. She enjoyed hunting for food and fighting for fun. Predators that stalked her in the cover of night were the only reason she ever returned to His home, to His abuse. She would find a safe haven, something to protect her from cold and shelter her from darkness.

It didn’t take long for one of those unsupervised children to dash from the house, leaving the door wide open. Casually Cooper made her final escape, or so she thought…

It’s unseasonably warm, Cooper noted. It was a good thing too. The days were getting longer, but the nights were still brutal. Her coat had already begun to molt for the season. She needed time to adjust to the climate. She would use the warmth of the day to first find a place to rest. Her good fortune continued when, right across the street, she discovered a seemingly abandoned garage with a broken window. Purr-fect, she concluded.

Upon sneaking through the damaged window, Cooper discovered a litany of supplies. This garage may have been dilapidated but it certainly wasn’t abandoned. Less than ideal, still it would do nicely. She explored boxes until she found one filled with old blankets and children’s clothes. She had never curled up in a more comfortable bed. Cooper drifted off that night pleased with herself. She was lonely but comfortable, hungry but safe. Tomorrow she would hunt.

After a long slumber, free of drunken yelling, crying children, unprovoked kicking or tail pulling, Cooper arose with a stretch. She climbed into the window sill to sit briefly and absorb the morning sun. A rumble in Cooper’s stomach interrupted her meditation. She turned to set out on her mission for food when she realized she was being watched. In the distance she saw a human female holding a small black machine over her eye. Occasionally the human would push a button and the machine would click. Interesting. Cooper knew adult humans. They are mean. They are unpredictable. They have food. Engaging this human was a future option. However, for now Cooper wished to pursue her newfound freedom. She descended from the window sill, bolted through the back fence, and disappeared down an alley in search of food.

Cooper spent much of the day cautiously surveying her new surroundings. There were many dangers. She needed to learn her escape routes. The cats native to these streets did not welcome her. Quite the opposite, they considered her an intruder. More than once she stalked her prey only to be run off by a flailing human before she could pounce. Massive, loud boxes of metal in all colors and sizes tore down busy streets on large rolling circles. She was horrified by the number of corpses she encountered, the victims of those metal monsters.

The sun is beginning to set, she observed. It’s time to return to safety.

As Cooper crept through the yard she witnessed the human female exiting the garage. Oh no, she panicked, where do I go if it’s no longer safe?

She waited in the shadows long after the human disappeared. She proceeded cautiously through the window and was relieved to find herself alone there. What is that smell?

Cooper made her way toward the door and realized that the human had left two bowls behind. Food and water. She was beginning to like this human. Cooper huddled in and ate every crumb. When she was done she yawned and stretched, time for a nap. That food would certainly hold her over until she could hunt again later.

Eating food left by the human at night and soaking up the sun under the human’s watchful eye in the morning became staples in Cooper’s new routine. That is, at least, until He returned. One morning after basking in the glorious sunlight, Cooper began down the path toward the gate. She had just emerged from beneath the fence when she was viciously grabbed by the neck. NO! Cooper fought against His grasp. Let let me go! She hissed and bit. She swiped and slashed. They were right outside the human female’s window. Make more noise. She began to howl. As He carried Cooper away by her neck she heard it, BANG BANG BANG. The human was pounding on the window.

“Hey! You let him go! Put him down! Don’t carry him like that!” But He ignored the human’s pleas. He never turned. He never slowed. He scurried away from the concerned human like the cockroach He was.

He charged through the door and launched Cooper across the room. She scampered away and hid in the dark corner under His bed. She found comfort in the memory of her shortlived freedom. She thought back to the dismay in the female human’s voice as she plead with Him to release Cooper. Wait. Did that human say “him”? The human thinks I’m a boy. She was amused by this. The human mistook Cooper’s tough resourcefulness for masculinity. A female of any species should know better than to make such assumptions. I will befriend her, let her get to know me. I just need to get out of here again.

It would take longer than expected to find the opportunity to execute another breakout. The children were gone now. Cooper had no idea where they went. Their belongings were untouched, but they were absent, no longer there to leave doors wide open. He had become cautious about closing the door. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. She would have to be aggressive. She waited crouched by the door. As soon as this door opens, I run.

Soon He returned home in a stupor. She executed her plan flawlessly. His altered state prevented Him from recapturing her this time. She quickly crossed the street, escaped the streetlight, and disappeared into blackness. She remained concealed for a short time until she heard voices. Humans? She wondered. She approached the yard with caution. Two of them. It’s a risk. I want to return to the garage but I need a better place to hide from Him, especially now… She let out a faint meow.

The humans turned to her but did not approach. Cooper was relieved. The female knelt low and extended her hand. Cooper advanced with care. The humans waited patiently and the female coaxed Cooper along. When Cooper was within reach the female human gently caressed her head, scratched behind her ears, and stroked her back. She removed the collar that Cooper had worn since she was a kitten. He never once loosened it, even as Cooper grew. It had become a choking reminder of the mistreatment she’d endured. This human truly freed me. Cooper had never been around one so gentle and quiet. The male human opened the door and stepped aside, as if to welcome Cooper into their home. She wasted no time. She darted through the door and began to explore her surroundings.

I need a safe place, just in case. She found a bedroom empty except for a bed. She navigated the maze of boxes and books beneath it and discovered the perfect cove in which to hide.

“Where is he?” Cooper heard the male human ask. They still think I’m a boy. They will certainly be surprised by what I have in store for them.

For the most part the humans left Cooper to adjust to her environment. They seemed sensitive to her plight. Cooper liked that about them. Well, that and the food. She was so hungry all of the time now. She ate and slept the days away.

“He’s really filling out.” The male human called Brian once observed.

“I’m not sure he’s a he.” The female human called Carrie replied.

Oh you have no idea…

A couple of weeks passed before they caught on, “I was petting Cooper today and HER belly moved,” Carrie recounted to Brian.

“No way, really?!?” Brian was still in denial.

He approached where Cooper lay in a strip of sunlight on the floor. “You got something in there for us, Coop?” He sat next to her and lightly pet her side. With a stunned expression Brian exclaimed, “I felt it too! Cooper is totally pregnant!” Cooper laughed to herself and dozed back off to sleep.

“I think maybe four kittens” she heard Carrie say as she woke from her slumber.

“Yeah, three or four” Brian agreed.

The amusement just doesn’t stop with these two. Clearly these people have never had a litter of kittens. This should be fun.

Carrie did manage to a decent job on a birthing box. Pillows, blankets, privacy, yes this will do. The Sunday the kittens made their arrival Cooper did not want to leave Carrie’s side. She was uncomfortable and quite nervous. Carrie is comforting, though maybe a little too excited about MY babies. Regardless, she would shadow her human throughout the day. Eventually it became clear that it was time to leave Carrie and settle into her box.

I do wish they would stop looking in on me. Enjoying the show nosy humans? Cooper was irritated by the constant interruptions, particularly from the overly concerned Carrie. Though, as it would turn out, Carrie’s concern was justified. There were more than three or four babies, more than five or six even. Seven kittens were born and some so closely together that Cooper had little time to clear the sac from their faces and stimulate their breathing. A few had even become entangled within the blankets in the box somehow. When Carrie looked in on Cooper for the final time that night, she carefully sifted through the blankets, placing each kitten onto Cooper’s belly, so the new mommy could tend to them properly.

Seven ~ Ellington, Julius, Khan, Louis, Lola, Shojo and Voodoo. Three girls, four boys. This family who owned no cats just a few weeks ago now has eight of them. It’s a good thing they’re decent, for humans.

SIDE NOTE: When the kittens were old enough to wean themselves naturally we began the re-homing process. Louis went first to my youngest son’s best friend’s family. He is now “Levi”. Lola followed. She went to live with my cousin’s family. Unfortunately Lola ran off while out playing with her new puppy brother and was likely picked up by another family. 😦 Khan was a birthday gift to my niece. My oldest son kept Ellington. My daughter kept Shojo. My husband and I kept Julius and Voodoo. Cooper went deeper into witness protection. She now lives with dear friends and is allowed to roam their expansive property at her leisure. She also gets lots and lots of affection when she wants to be inside around her new humans. Each and every one is treasured and loved by their respective families. I get regular updates on all, except for Lola, obviously. I like to think she’s living it up with a great family too.

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The Apple

Ben Turner burst through the door, kicked off his shoes, dropped his backpack and ran into the kitchen. As expected, a shiny red apple awaited him on the counter. Without word, he snatched the apple and climbed into a bar stool to enjoy it.

“Hungry today Benny?” Asked Grandma, as she took inventory of the contents of the kitchen. Ben smiled through his mouth full of apple and nodded excitedly.

He loved everything about having Grandma live at his house. Even getting her moved in last summer was a great adventure. Ben got to ride with Daddy in a big truck all the way to Grandma’s. He felt so grown-up as he helped carry boxes and possessions from her house to the truck. All the way back home he and Grandma sang and laughed.

On his first day of third grade, Ben came home to find the largest, most succulent red delicious apple sitting upon the counter. Grandma smiled and handed it to him. That day, and every day since, they would sit together as Ben finished his apple, happily discussing the events of the day. Mom and Dad were at work, so Grandma even helped Ben with his homework. He would never tell them, but Grandma was a much better teacher than his parents. She was warm and patient where they were usually hurried and flustered. Even when he struggled, Grandma would smile, pat his head, and slowly start over.

Homework wasn’t the only thing Grandma was the best at. Grandma always cooked the most divine meals. He appreciated Dad’s morning Eggo waffles. Mom’s packed lunches were certainly edible. Oh but dinner… Ben looked forward to devouring Grandma’s dinner time creation every single day.

“No homework today, Grandma!” Ben exclaimed as he wiped the sticky apple remnants from his face with the back of his hand. She grinned and shook her head. She motioned him toward the sink and turned the faucets to just the right temperature. He put his hands under the running water and allowed Grandma to gently wipe his face.

“Good”, Grandma replied, “I am making a special dinner tonight. I could use your help. Wash those hands up like I taught you.”

Getting to help Grandma in the kitchen was always a treat. She called him “the official kitchen taste tester” and let him sample all of the food before it was served. He scrubbed his hands as clean as a surgeon in preparation.

As they got to work, Ben wondered what was so special about meatloaf. Sure, Grandma’s was the best as far as meatloaf is concerned, but this certainly didn’t constitute a “special dinner”. His disappointment was quickly replaced with elation when he realized that they would also be baking a chocolate cake for dessert. Not only would he get to taste test the batter, but he’d also get to apply the frosting and lick the spatula. His Grandma was the best grandma.

Mom and Dad gushed over the luscious food that Ben and Grandma had made them. The cake was delectable and moist. The homemade frosting was a perfect balance of light, sweet, and chocolaty. Everyone ate until they were stuffed to capacity.

After dinner, while the adults cleaned up, Ben headed upstairs for his nightly bath. He wanted to hurry to allow Grandma enough time for a bedtime story. She was even better at storytelling than she was at cooking. Grandma didn’t even need a book. She made up plots that twisted and turned. Characters that became as real as life. Stories that would make them laugh and some that would make them cry. The more time she had, the better the story would get.

Grandma peeked into Ben’s room just as he had finished donning his pajamas. He climbed into bed and Grandma sat down to regal him with the story of “Super Bird”. Ben giggled at the title. Of course Grandma knew exactly how to give that bird life and suck Ben into her world of make-believe.

She told him of a little bird, smaller than all of the rest, who longed to be special. The other birds teased him relentlessly because of his minuscule stature. When he just couldn’t stand the bullying anymore, the little bird ran away from home. She painted a vivid picture of the bird’s travels and especially his destination, the circus. Ben’s eyes widened in wonderment as Grandma’s words portrayed a magical place, full of color and laughter, where the little bird was accepted and loved as the “World’s Smallest Bird”. Ben’s expression turned to concern as the little bird began to grow until he was no longer the smallest or unique. His concern turned to relief when the bird didn’t stop growing until he was the circus’ newest attraction, “Super Bird”.

By the time Grandma finished her story, Ben’s mind was full and his eyes were heavy. Before he drifted off to sleep, he told Grandma, “I am going to sleep now. I want to dream about Super Bird.” Grandma tucked him in tight, kissed his forehead, turned on the nightlight, and softly closed the door behind her.

The next day began like any other. Mom was up early to prepare lunches and leave for work. Dad made toaster waffles for breakfast. Grandma zipped Ben’s coat and helped him with his backpack before hurrying him out the door for his short walk to school.

During lunch that day, Ben began feeling ill. He wasn’t sure what was making him sick. He didn’t have a stuffy nose or a tummy ache. His body didn’t hurt and his head felt ok. He just didn’t feel right. That sensation would linger for the rest of his school day. At the final bell, Ben gathered his things and prepared for his walk home.

He exited through the front door and spotted Mommy in the parking lot near the sidewalk. She hadn’t picked him up from school since second grade. Why was she here now? As he got closer he realized that Mommy had been crying. Those around her rubbed her arm, placed a hand upon her back, and some hugged her. Ben didn’t know why, but his eyes began to well with tears. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached his mother. He looked up at her inquisitively and she responded with a tight hug. Mommy kneeled until she looked Ben directly in the eyes. Then she said something so impossible, so infuriating, so cruel… She said, “Ben, Grandma is gone. She left this world and moved on to the next. Baby, Grandma died today.”

“NO!” Ben howled as he shoved his way out of his mother’s embrace. “You’re lying!” She had to be! They just ate dinner together the night prior. Grandma’s bedtime story last night was one of the best yet. She was fine, she was better than fine! She just helped him get ready for school this morning. She wouldn’t leave Ben without saying goodbye. She couldn’t!

Once he escaped his mother’s grasp, he started to run. Each step landed quicker than the one before it. He heard his mother call for him, but this only gave him cause to run even faster. He wanted to be too far away to hear her lies. Warm tears streamed down his cheeks to his quivering chin as he ran toward home on a mission to end this heartless joke. Today when he burst through the door, he didn’t bother to kick off his shoes and he didn’t shed his backpack. He continued his uninterrupted sprint through the house until he reached the kitchen.

There the harsh truth became his reality. Ben gasped for breath as he stared in anguish at the empty spot upon the counter.

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‘Til Death Do Us Part

The lights of an oncoming truck slammed against the windshield with blinding force. Todd Gibson was instantly robbed of his vision. Being unable to see the winding road ahead of him, Todd fought to keep the tires on the pavement. The unfamiliar turns and rocky terrain were too much. In a moment of panic he grasped his sleeping bride by her arm, “Jen!” Jennifer woke with a start as their car plummeted down a steep, rocky ravine. In an instant, it was over.

Despairingly, Jennifer turned toward her new husband. She knew immediately that his life had fled him. “No!” she choked, “No Todd, it’s not fair…” she heard her own voice fade into merely a whisper. It had only been a few hours since Jennifer and Todd’s honeymoon began. Struggling to remain conscious, her mind wandered to the beautiful day prior. The day Jennifer and Todd had taken their vows and become man and wife. Now, “until death do us part”, had in reality, been only a matter of moments. She thought back just a few hours earlier as they were to begin their trip to the mountains. Todd opened the door to their SUV for her and lightheartedly said, “Mrs. Gibson, your chariot awaits”.

With all of the energy she could gather, Jennifer reached out and feebly grasped Todd’s hand. She tried to find some sense in what had just happened, but her mind was becoming unclear, and an eerie darkness closed in around her…

Jennifer found herself alone in a strange, ominous world. Ahead of her was only more of the same cold blackness, but from behind her, Jennifer felt a comforting warmth. She turned toward the source of the heat to see a brilliant blue light. Inside of this majestic glow was the hazy shadow of a man. She was sure it was God. Knowing she would find comfort and safety with Him, Jennifer started toward the silhouette. The shadow became clearer as she drew closer. The figure offered his hand as if to beckon her, guide her to him. However, from deep within the darkness, Jennifer began to hear voices…

They were mere whispers at first, but gradually they grew stronger. She recognized these voices. They were those of family, friends, her loved ones. Again she turned toward the inviting light; the shadowy figure grew closer still. As she turned back once more to the haunting darkness, the voices of her loved ones were unmistakable. Jennifer longed desperately to run to them, to mourn her loss with them, to let them comfort her. Still something in the light held her there. Finally, as she stared once more into the welcoming illumination, she knew what it was. The shadowy figure wasn’t God; it was her husband. It was Todd. Jennifer realized now that there was life in the darkness and death in the light.

Instantaneously the light dimmed, and the voices faded. It was time for Jennifer to make a choice or risk being trapped in this dark abyss for an eternity. She wanted so terribly to be with her loved ones, but losing Todd forever was more than she could bear.

Jennifer Gibson died at 11:37 p.m., on the evening of June 22, 2013.

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A Christmas Wish

Six year old Olivia sat alone on the frozen ground just outside of an empty church. Across the street, families lined up outside of “The Mobile North Pole”. She enviously watched several boys and girls about her age climb the snow covered stairs and make their way inside to sit on Santa’s lap.

She noticed how warmly they were dressed; thickly lined coats to protect them from the blowing wind, fuzzy boots to cover their little feet, and thick, clumsy mittens to keep their tiny fingers from the sting of the cold. Olivia looked down at her own shabby attire; before she had stolen a coat out of the donation box just inside the church foyer, she wore only an over-sized hooded sweatshirt. At that moment she wished she hadn’t been so concerned about getting caught and took a few extra seconds to steal a pair of boots too. She wore just tennis shoes so small that her big toe was starting to bore a hole through the tip. The ache in her glove-less fingers was beginning to give way to numbness. She tucked her hands up into her sleeves.

She focused on a family of 3 in line across the street. The little boy was smaller than Olivia. He was enthralled by the lights and the bustle of the holidays. His eyes darted from scene to scene with awe. He wasn’t even aware that his mother and father had positioned themselves to use their bodies as shield for him against the bitter wind. Tears began to well as she thought of her own parents. Before her father left, she had warm clothes, a soft bed to sleep in, and a roof over her head. “We never had much, but it was so much more than we have now”, she thought. Olivia’s mother could not find a job suitable enough to support herself, much less her daughter. Without her husband, she wasn’t able to keep up on rent. They were forced to stay in shelters when beds were available, and in the car when they weren’t. Olivia missed her Daddy very much but knew he was never coming back.

She remembered the last time she saw him very well. It was a Sunday morning right after spring break from school. Daddy was unusually quiet that day. Mommy seemed upset. Olivia heard them argue the night before but that wasn’t unusual. The silence, however, was very strange. After pushing food around his plate for a period of time but not really eating it, Daddy stood abruptly from the breakfast table. Before he turned to walk away, he pushed Olivia’s hair from her face and gently placed a kiss on her forehead. He said nothing as he left the room and walked out the front door. Neither of them had seen nor heard from him since.

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” Olivia thought, “and Daddy won’t even be here to celebrate with us.” However, it occurred to her that she didn’t have a gift for him anyway. Why hadn’t she made him a gift, just wrapped something? Maybe then he would want to come home to open it.

“Livi, honey?” Olivia’s mother, Lisa, finally emerged from the store where she had returned the cans and bottles the two had collected from the street earlier. “Where did you get that coat? You know what, never mind. It’s going to start snowing soon, sounds like it’s going to be a white Christmas!” Lisa tried to sound upbeat for her daughter’s sake, but the holiday coupled with the upcoming storm also meant that space in shelters would be scarce tonight. She really didn’t care how that coat came to be in her daughter’s possession. Tonight Livi would probably need it. “Livi, did you hear me? Livi? What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing”, the somber little girl mumbled. “May I go see Papa Claus before we go, please?”

Lisa glanced at the line across the street. It had dwindled but the thought of not getting a bed at a shelter tonight dismayed her. “I don’t know, honey. Santa is probably very busy, it IS Christmas Eve… OLIVIA!”

Too late. Olivia wasn’t interested in her mother’s reply. She was on a mission to see Santa and she wasn’t taking no for an answer. Thankfully the streetwise child knew to check for cars and stopped to look both ways before just darting into traffic. Upon arrival at Santa’s door, a fatigued looking elf stopped her.

“Sorry little girl, Santa needs to get going. He has to get back to the North Pole and get the reindeer ready.” Olivia had ignored her own mother, this ornery elf wasn’t getting in her way. “Aren’t you a little tall to be an elf?”, she asked as she attempted to slip past him. He had to admire the little ragamuffin’s spirit. Besides, he was too tired to try to reason with a kindergartner so he let her by.

Bolstered by her success in slipping her Mother and dodging that elf, she burst into Santa’s tiny cottage more determined than ever to make sure Santa heard her wishlist. ”Please, Papa Claus, don’t leave yet! My list isn’t long, I promise!” Without hesitation she continued, “All I want for Christmas is a warm place to sleep”, she said confidently, then with her voice trailing off, “… and I want my Daddy to come home.”

Initially this stranger in the red Santa suit was irritated that the tall elf had allowed another kid in after quitting time. “This Santa gig doesn’t pay overtime”, he thought. Immediately upon hearing Olivia’s wish list, however, he was stabbed by a deep pang of guilt. Clearly this child was homeless and truly believed him to be THE Santa Claus. In reality, there was very little he could do for her. Briefly he stood staring at her in stunned silence, but quickly mustered a hearty “HO, HO, HO”.

He then instructed Olivia to take him to her mother. He couldn’t even remember now why he had been in such a hurry to leave just a few minutes prior. Olivia complied and led him across the street to where Lisa was waiting for her. Santa and Olivia’s mother spoke briefly before he took them both back up the stairs into that church. Lisa caught the uncomfortable look on Olivia’s face as they passed by the donation box. There would need to be a long conversation about stealing, but how could she not marvel at the little girl’s resourcefulness.

Olivia was brought to a room that contained toys and books where a pre-school aged boy sat on his mother’s lap listening to her recite “Twas the Night Before Christmas” while his beaming father looked on. Olivia recognized them as the little boy and his parents from the line earlier that evening. The boy’s cheeks were still pink from the cold wind. The woman smiled warmly and motioned to Olivia to sit down and join them. The gentleman excused himself and followed Santa & Lisa out of the room and down the hall.

After the story ended, the little boy’s mother dug through the donation box until Olivia was decked out in winter clothes and boots that actually fit her well. As they returned the other items back to the bin, Livi found a pair of men’s gloves. This time she asked the woman if she could take them. ”I think they would make a nice gift for my Daddy,” Olivia told her. The woman nodded and handed Olivia a hat. ”Take this too. It’s cold out there,” she said. Olivia was ecstatic. Now she had not one, but two presents to give Daddy. Surely he would want to come home!

Soon after, Santa and Lisa returned to collect Olivia and her new things. Santa then drove Olivia and her mother (much to Olivia’s dismay, in a car and not a sleigh!) a short distance to a nearby shelter. They had only one bed available that night, but would allow Livi and her mother to share it.

Soon Olivia was crawling into an old but cozy bed. Santa kissed her forehead, just like her Daddy had before he left. “Good night little angel”, he whispered. ”Thank you Papa Claus…” was all Livi managed before sleep overcame her. Before he left, Lisa hugged the kind stranger and thanked him profusely for sacrificing his own Christmas Eve just to give them the gift of warmth.

Later that night Olivia woke with a start Somewhere in the distance she could swear she heard the sounds of jingling bells. She shook her mother vigorously. “Mommy! Mommy! Papa Claus, he came back!” Olivia exclaimed as she crawled from the bed pulling her mother’s arm.

“Oh love, Santa is busy tonight. It was just a dream,” her mother replied tiredly, “please come back, try to…” she stopped as Livi spun toward the entrance…

…for at that very moment, the door of the shelter flew open, and there stood Olivia’s father.

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