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part 3 of the story
Kitten

Alfredo Bravo de Rueda

    The kitten protested as I explained to him my plans on our way to the home of the nice couple.
    “You are sick and I can’t cure you. They are our only hope. This is going to be transitory. When they cure you, we’ll be back together. Sounds like a plan?”
    “I am fine now. It was food poison.”
    “You are not fine and it was not food poison. If they accept you, I will visit you every day. If you get sicker and have to go to the hospital, they will take you to Cat Hospital, which is hundreds of miles away from here. Do you want that?”
    The kitten shrugged. He was old enough to intuit there was no Cat Hospital, but he understood, and he kept walking at my side. We had to make multiple stops because the kitten, tireless just a few months ago, now needed frequent rests to catch his breath.
    “Maybe they can allow you to stay and we can be together...”
    “They don’t speak our language and I don’t want to push our luck. They look nice and that’s all I know, but many predators look nice too until they decide you are their dinner.”
    The kitten shrugged again and we retook our trip until we reached the front door. The nice lady in the apron was there, watching us with a smile. She called the male and the male, her husband, the chubby bald human ran after her. For a moment I was startled. Maybe I had done something wrong and they felt threatened. But no. Their faces showed stunned smiles, not hostile expressions of fear and distrust. So I stepped forward, looked at them straight in the eyes, and then turned to the kitten. I tried to convey with my eyes the message our different languages couldn’t. But it worked, so I turned and started my way home.
    The kitten wanted to follow me.
    “Stay here! Only they can cure you!” said I, declining to turn around to not betray my moist eyes.
    “No! I want to go with you!” the kitten protested.
    We agreed from the moment we left home that this was the only way. “Stay! It’s temporary! Stay or you will never be welcome to my home again!”
    The broken voice of the kitten suctioned all my resolution, all my strength. But I had to stay firm.
    “Stay! Stay or there will be no us ever again! I will come to visit you this Sunday... but you have to stay!”
    From that moment, I didn’t say another word because my voice was breaking. But I could hear the kitten cry and it would’ve given anything to come back and console him. I had to be strong for both of us though, so I extended my wings and flew. And only when I was high enough in the sky, I myself cried.

    That night, although I can’t remember the specifics, I am sure I dreamed of Lawrence. I can’t be sure whether that dream added to my sadness or somehow tried to relieve it, for what it might matter. But, as the leaves kept falling outside, oblivious to my sorrow, the idea that came to me in the morning was the one of paternity. Had my infatuation for Lawrence had a future, we could not have been parents. We could’ve left and started a new life, but we could never have been parents. On the other hand, here on Earth, in the world of reality, the kitten was the closest I would ever be to having a son. Both cases involved love. Both cases involved loss. Both cases involved pain. But if a spirit protective of nature had decided to bless me at least once with a wish, that would have been to see my kitten recover his health. Sorry, Lawrence, but that’s how I felt and that’s how I still feel. Would I change Lawrence’s Alpha male personality and sharp intelligence for the kitten’s silly questions and his unsolicited wrestling hugs? Yes, anytime.
    So that morning I just moved closer to the gate of my humble safe house with its straw grate, lay on my bed, and stayed the whole day watching leaves fall, watching them being pushed around by the wind. Spirit protective of nature, grant my wish and I will believe in you.

    Next Sunday I came back to visit the kitten. I had to know if they had had a chance to take him to the vet, the animal doctor, and if they could cure him. Something in my heart told me they had not kicked him out; that they were not that kind of humans. But I had to take that risk. It was his only chance of survival.
    As soon as I landed, the kitten, as if he had known the precise place and time where I was going to arrive, came running from the porch. He was there and he came running. And he was smiling with that same silly smile, with an open mouth, that I remember from the very first time he opened his eyes under my wings. At least that was a good signal.
    “I am so happy that you came!”
    Purring and rubbing. Purring and rubbing. He was happy indeed. And so was I.
    “Did they find out why you are sick?”
    “The doctor is a human in a white apron. He said I have cancer.”
    And there it was the word that my memory had banned, the damn word I was so afraid of, and which now was on the lips of my kitten.
    “But they can treat you, right?”
    “Yes. They started two days ago. They took me to four or five places the very same day you brought me here and then they filled out a lot of paperwork. And finally, I got to see the doctor in the white apron and I saw him writing something on a piece of paper. Those drawings they make on paper are called writing and they make those drawings always before they do something important.”
    “I don’t care about the way they make decisions. Did they start treating you?”
    “Yes. First, they put several plastic tubes in my arm. Fluids, they said. Then they did something I didn’t like. Chemo and x-rays... No, chemo and radiation. But they said something about x-rays too. They made me nauseous, but now at least I can run. And I feel stronger after the fluids even though I have eaten practically nothing. Is that medicine or magic? What do you think? Maybe it’s magic and they use the writing for...”
    “They like to jot signs on paper. It has nothing to do with magic. But... But... It’s great news! It’s great news to know that they can cure you...”
    “I missed you a lot.”
    “And I missed you too but, you see? That was the right thing to do.”
    “So, we can leave now?”
    “No! Aren’t the humans nice to you?”
    “Yes! I like them. But you are my family. I want to be with you!”
    “No! You have to be grateful to these humans. They got you a doctor and they are curing you!”
    “I’d like to visit them every day. But you are my family!”
    “No! Besides the moral argument, you need to continue with the treatment. If you abandon it, cancer will return and then they will not have you back.”
    “I don’t care. I miss you!”
    And then, although in a very unconvincing tone, I tried to reprimand him. But it didn’t work. “You are no longer a small kitten! Look at yourself! If you abandon the treatment, you will die! I know what cancer does! Crows have cancer too! On the other hand, if you stay, I promise to visit you every day. Is that okay?”
    The kitten shrugged but, after an instant of hesitation, nodded with that exaggerated nod cats have.
    “Good! Then tell me how has been your day.”
    “They gave me my own bowl. Good food. It comes from a can. Some toys too. Stuffed mouses...”
    “Mice. Stuffed mice. That’s the plural of mouse.”
    “Okay, mice, and then... what I was saying? Ah! A bed.”
    “And you want to exchange all that for my straw house?”
    “Yes!” said the kitten without hesitation.
    “But you can’t... at least, not for now. Where are you sharpening your claws?”
    “The trees outside.”
    “Good! Have you brought them gifts to show them your appreciation?”
    “Yes. I found a nice sponge in the kitchen and I took it to their bed. Every day I find a new one, so I have always something to bring them to their beds. But I don’t like the name they want to give me...”
    “Which is?”
    “Tuxedo.”
    “Your name doesn’t have to be Tuxedo. That’s just the name they will use to call you. But they are treating you well?”
    “Mm-hmm.”
    “Good! Now, let me examine you closer to see if your sores are healing.”
    They were. I felt relief. I felt envy too. They were better parents than I. Why couldn’t I help my kitten as they had? That’s when I saw the nice couple. They were watching us standing, from their porch. The nice woman then got inside the house and, soon after, she came with my bowl of bird food. For an instant, I resented their generosity. But then I felt that accepting it was the least I could do after all they had done for my kitten. So I approached the bowl and ate. It was not bad. Then the kitten also approached his bowl and I ate a bit more from his plate, as we did when we lived together. And that felt better.

    After a few hours lying on the grass under the timid sun of late September, the kitten felt in the mood for more of his annoying wrestling, but then I found that I didn’t find it that annoying anymore. So we wrestled in the grass. He, as always, was going after my neck to lock it and bring me down to the ground; I, as always, ended up covering him with my wings when he was on his back. He, nipping my wings with his little teeth; me, pecking on his paws when he was on his back trying to get back on his feet. Just like before. And then dusk approached on the horizon and I could see his disappointment when he realized I was getting ready to leave. As if happiness could last forever...
    “Tomorrow I’ll be back. Same time. Okay?”
    “Okay.
    “And these are good people. Don’t make me look bad.”
    “I won’t.”
    “Okay.... Don’t forget I am coming tomorrow at the same time.”
    “Okay.”
    So, I opened my wings and started my flight. Nobody needed to tell me that the kitten had stayed there, watching me leave; watching me even after I had turned into a point and disappeared in the darkening sky.

    I started that Monday with the anticipation any father would have at knowing that he was going to spend another day with his beloved child. Yes, the kitten was not the sharpest tool in the box. He could even be silly sometimes. But I loved him the same. And when I approached the house that morning, he was already there, in the same spot, searching the sky with his big eyes until he saw me. When I got closer, I noticed his big eyes fixed on me and that beautiful smile of his with his mouth open, as if he were thirsty.
    “Good morning kitten. Do you feel better this morning?”
    “Yes. But I feel better now that you are here.”
    “Did you leave them their sponge?”
    “Yes. Just before I came here.”
    “Did you take your medicines?”
    “They mix them with my food. Yes.”
    “Good! Good! Now tell me what have you learned today... I mean, yesterday.”
    “That I miss you.... You know what? Yesterday evening I was with them in their living room. I asked them if you could stay.”
    “Really? What did they say?”
    “Nothing. I think they couldn’t understand what I told them.”
    The kitten had spoken to them and assumed they had understood his meows. Wasn’t he adorable?
    But I did understand them better than him. I overheard them once. The male human said crows brought bad luck and the female human said crows brought good luck. Do I bring good or bad luck? What kind of idiotic question is that? What would the kitten have said if asked that question about me? ‘Just saying. Ah? You brought me good luck.’ You see? Well, being a crow never brought me much good luck anyway... If only I could be sure the kitten has recovered his health...
    “It doesn’t matter anyway. They put birds like me in cages and I will not live in a cage. I have gone through winters alone before and I can do it again.”
    “Let’s go together then.”
    “No! You don’t have feathers and this is going to be a hard Winter. If you had feathers, I’d invite you myself. Sorry...”
    “But we spent last winter together. Don’t you want me back?”
    “The last winter was different.... It was milder than this one is going to be. This one is going to be a hell of a winter.”
    “You don’t want me back?”
    Maybe a better dad would have killed his expectations right there by saying ‘You know what? No, I don’t want you back!’ so the kitten could move on with his new life. I know of crows whose cancer came back over and over. We would never be free of that curse and if the kitten left with me, the humans might not accept him back again. They could think he was feral, which he was; and not domesticable, which he was not... maybe. I don’t know. But house cats have longer and happier lives. Or maybe not happier... The fact was that I was a flawed dad. I also needed him back, so I wasn’t going to lie to myself. I too needed to know I was going to see him again to have a reason to get up each morning. And I needed to teach him all I know as a crow, so he could be a cat of good character when he grew up. Of course, there was much more I could teach him besides anting; things like the best spots to get good fruit, and the clues that could indicate the proximity of a predator. I wanted to teach him the signs that foreshadowed a mild or a hard Winter; how to get water if the stream dried up in the Summer; take him to the park to teach him in situ the customs of humans on Sundays and on days that are not Sundays. Too many things and so little time. But his health came first. Because I couldn’t explain to him that this was going to be the new normal, that I could not take him back home again, I settled for another afternoon of wrestling and of lying down on the grass.

    My temporary access to heaven didn’t last long though. By the time Winter ended, the sores came back. The lumps came back. The sores in his gums came back. Then the vomits. The intestinal problems. And the battery of his life began to run out of energy again. No more wrestling. We just lay on the grass. So, the nice couple took the kitten back to treatment, and for a while, he seemed to get better. That’s when I had to leave.
    It was going to be a hard Winter and I had to leave for the warmer coastal areas of the Chesapeake Bay for the last two weeks of January. Then it was also during February as an unforgiving blanket of snow kept covering everything on my side of the forest. And then also for the first week of March. My humble straw house would still be buried under the snow, snow like I had not seen before in my short life. Every day of those seven weeks I felt guilty for the kitten’s moist eyes when I told him I had to leave during the worst of that Winter because that Winter was not going to be like the Winter before. But that was not the worst. It was as if that treacherous Winter had been waiting for me to leave to bring the worst of my kitten’s cancer back.
    “But haven’t they taken you to the vet?” asked I at my return with indignation.
    Of course, they had. They had sent the kitten back to chemo and radiation. But this time it was too late.
    “They said it had mestized or something like that; that my cancer had spread to my kidneys and liver,” said the kitten with a tone of resignation. ‘Metastasized’ I wanted to correct him but that would’ve been stupid. What good is knowing things if you can’t change anything?
    And by the time spring began to fill the expectations of every living being, the kitten gave me the news I had feared so much.
    “They want to know if I am ready for the vet. But they can’t understand that I want to go with you.”
    The void was there, so thick that could be touched; so empty that nothing could fill it. And yet, I had to be strong for him. Maybe being a father was the worst that could happen to me, even worse than having been born to be attracted to other males. So, as my kitten’s big eyes were running out of light, I decided to teach him all I knew about humans on Sundays and on the days that are not Sundays and how I preferred them on Sundays, when they played with their dogs, their balloons, their balls, and their dads. Thus, that morning I came up with that idea in mind, but the kitten was no longer there. I turned to the porch and I could see the nice woman weeping. But I was in denial, so I cawed louder and louder to let him know that I was there. And yet, the kitten didn’t come. Maybe he was inside, sleeping so deeply that not even my caws could wake him up. So, I used my olfactory skills to follow his scent. I moved around in the yard of the nice humans for some time until I caught his distinctive body smell, his kitten body smell. And that led me to a small mound in the backyard. And that small mound told me everything I needed to know.
    I couldn’t cry at that moment because I still couldn’t believe the end had finally come. Yet, the end had finally come. So I opened my wings and I flew for I don’t know how long, searching the area for the most beautiful flower I could find, and I brought it to my kitten’s grave. Done that, I left.

    It has been a week since my kitten died. I am an adult crow. I know everybody dies someday, some sooner than others. I have tried to come back to my old study days in the park, where humans celebrate Spring with their dogs, their balloons, their balls, and their dads. Nothing is the same though. The kitten is not there. And that’s all I know.
    I have tried to convoke him in my dreams, but I wake up every morning with no memory of a dream where he could have visited me, even if it is only a dream. I need to believe he is somewhere though, that all those hours of wrestling and purring have not just gone to the universe’s dustbin to be discarded and forgotten. So far, nothing though.
    And then one day I finally dreamed of him. He was high in the sky, in the sun actually. He was watching me and I could see that silly smile of his with his open mouth. So I didn’t think it twice. I opened my wings to start my flight toward him, but that’s when I woke up. I was lying on my bed of straw again. Alone, with another long day ahead and with nothing really meaningful to fill it. That’s when I decided I had to fly to him; to risk it all for a chance to live another day with him, to wrestle with him, to lie on the grass with him, on this grass or on whatever they have where he lives now; for that and for another chance to correct his bad grammar.
    So I opened my wings and started my flight, my most important flight, and the sun seemed to welcome me. I got higher and higher, closer and closer to my kitten. At some point, I felt my strength was abandoning me, but my love for the kitten was stronger, so I kept flapping my wings. And then I could feel his presence getting closer and closer. I could feel something more than air in my lungs. And then I felt my heart pounding in my chest harder than ever, but I didn’t care because I was going to see my kitten again. So I kept flapping and flapping, getting closer to the sun, getting closer to my kitten.

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