The Catalogue
It burnt.
Whoever considered the idea of resting spread out under a window sill was eloquently insane. My abdominal skin felt raw and sticky under the thin layer of fur. It sucked my energy. I only felt drained as I lay helplessly in my enclosure of self-reflection. Reflection of decisions – of regrets.
It kept burning.
It would only take a couple pawsteps, just a few. The sun was cut off by the window sash a matter of centimetres away. However, I still lay there. Sprawled out. Sprawled out just like a soldier on no-man's-land. Burning. My eyes were locked shut tightly, leaking some form of gooey substance which only further trapped them within their hollows. Curse my luscious grey fur – holding me hostage to the cosmic rays of the sun. No neck massages can suitably balance the agony in which I was experiencing.
Click.
In a rush of adrenaline, my eyes escaped from their sticky enclosures.
Mia, I mewed.
"Willow, sweetheart," her voice raised a whole octave from its usual tone. It made my ears flick backwards awkwardly, "what are you up to, you rascal?" She continued to reach out a sweaty hand and fiddle with my twisted ears.
Save me, I moaned.
"Don't you look comfortable there," she giggled.
Stupid woman.
Do I look comfortable? Is your nervous system a complete wreck? Mia had never been the most intellectual of humans I'd encountered, although, aren't humans of her disposition much more down-to-earth? If anything, she would've had an increased chance of sensing my shocking body heat and therefore uncomfortable position. Furthermore, shouldn't she also contain a higher level of empathy? This is if we were to think generally, of course, due to her belonging to the less-intellectual half of the race. Maybe a third perhaps – as the saying goes, it is tricky to class anything into black and white.
She finally moved her ignorant fingers towards my belly and, subsequently, she hissed whilst snatching her now singed fingertips. "Ack!"
Now you realise, eh? Now? I loved the girl to bits but...please.
Save me, I mewed again, distressed that I had to repeat myself.
"Willow, dear, you must be roasting under there!" Being as extra as she is, she placed a hand on her heart. "I'm almost impressed."
No! Please! Remove me! I beg of you!
"Mew, mew, mew-mew!"
"I guess I should leave you be. I'm sorry for disturbing your peace, dear, and make sure not to sunburn," she chuckled before hanging her jacket upon the coat rack and disappearing through the kitchen's doorway.
MIA, I meowed once more in pathetic desperation.
However, she was long gone, probably taking my last meow as some attempt of farewell. I was left to suffer once again under the Devil's eye as I felt the prongs of his trident sink into my belly. I winced, awaiting my slow, pitiful death via roasting alive. I had always hoped for a much more honourable death than this. If twisted fate had desired for my death to be via roasting, then I suppose my preferred decease would to be somewhat of a low-key heroic firefighter story. Due to my unheroic size, I'd be unable to stroll out the door of a house, crumbling from conflagration, with a fair maiden such as Mia lying unconscious within my brawny arms. Due to my lack of lips and clumsy muzzle, I'd be unable to place her unconscious body onto the gravel a fair distance away and give her the passionate kiss of life which all listeners and viewers had been awaiting. No. I'm not ignorant enough to consider something impossible as a dream. That's a fool's path to depression. Rather I would prefer to be much less extra than that.
Everyone must have heard of those cats who sniffed gas and alarmed their owners promptly, saving the lives of the whole household. One night, Mia would finish grilling my night-time halloumi cheese slice and would incidentally leave the oven running. I would snuggle into bed with her, as a loyal cat would do, but awake suddenly during the night with a couple twitches of the nose. I would paw and paw. Gently digging my claws in deeper each time until she awoke. After nuzzling her button nose briefly, I would guide her to the nearest exit in a sensible manner whilst checking for causes of the gas leak. When I evacuated her safely, I'd return in a hurry to see if I could solve the cause of the stench of gas but on my return from the kitchen, as I reached the front door, a ball of fire would well up at my rear. Glancing behind me, I would rush towards the screaming Mia. Leaping. Attempting to thrust my body mass into her open arms...but failing. I would instead fall limp at her feet, only hearing the gentle melody of her inaudible words - faint as they faded into white noise.
That seems to suit me well. If only I had the guts... If Mia's life was at stake, perhaps my instincts would take over instead. In the cat world, at least, remarkable intelligence comes at a price, further cursing me with unchallengeable anxiety.
It kept burning.
I was brought back to reality from my tangent.
For a moment, I actually had relief from my intense suffering whilst I was bathed in thought. However, I was back to being bathed in sunlight. As peaceful as that sounds in words, trust me, words are misleading indeed. I had returned to my endless circle of heating up, being drained of energy and then being unable to shift myself due to this lack of energy. The laziness I had inherited from the kitty genes was what got me in this position. Was this the circle of life, perhaps? Mufasa had made it sound so grand and admirable when bearing that luxurious mane of his, but he also used such misleading words. The circle of life was what I was experiencing right here: to be born, to reproduce, to laze, to burn, to tire and to roast until decease. A cat's life cycle is nothing of interest to humans, hence why such a grand fellow as Mufasa himself had to entertain them with that nonsense. The life cycle of a cat must be ten, no, maybe a hundred times worse in Africa where the much-praised lion dwells. I wonder what form of agony the lions of the African plains must suffer through in order to fulfil such a cycle? Never mind, I'm being ignorant once more. It likely ends their suffering much more briefly so instead of sizzling in their own body juices, like me, they simply grill on high heat. A significantly more elegant death than my own. I guess a lazy house cat such as myself doesn't deserve such a desired life.
It hurt.
Ouch, ouch. This must be it. This must be my last minute! I relaxed my muscles, which had long been tense in order to have as little contact with the surface I lay on as possible. I felt my vision blur and fill with extraordinary amounts of the gooey substance from before. The light. I saw the light. Before me was a light so powerful, so bewildering, I was in absolute awe. I relaxed, preparing myself for the blast of euphoria which had been rumoured to follow. But...
The light began to fade.
Well, I say fade, more like it completely cut off.
Was it not my time? Was my life cycle not destined to be over? Had fate gifted me with a second chance? A second chance to have that desired heroic death I'd thought over not too long earlier?
My eyes felt unlocked. I was washed with relief. A tightening in my belly almost regretted my return to this monotonous, but much appreciated, life as a house cat. Where would I be? Maybe this was even the afterlife? Perhaps I would awake and find myself without Mia, woefully. Or perhaps I would awake and find myself a great lion stalking the African plains, blissfully. I was embraced in anticipation, so much so that my eyes could barely bring themselves to open, but I begged them to. After a tedious sequence of internal pleading, they let up. I officially awoke from my brief slumber, creaking my eyes open bit by bit.
Awaking to a full-face view of the sky. The full-face view...of a cloud.
I blinked.
I blinked once more.
I really was a pitiful creature.