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part 2 of the story
Kitten

Alfredo Bravo de Rueda

    “That’s better. And your mother?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You were alone. Don’t you have even siblings?”
    “Yes, two brothers and a sister.”
    “And where are they?”
    “I don’t know. They were here... I think two days ago. My mom started taking us one by one and then she never came back.... That’s all I know.”
    I regretted my own question. It had to have been abandoned for some reason. So I decided to quickly change subjects.
    “And what are you? A female or a male? It’s not that easy to see in cats.”
    “Male, sir.”

    “Well, while we decide what to do, we are going to take care of those ticks and those fleas. Let’s go to an anthill I know. I am going to teach you how to do a good anting to keep your fur free of those parasites. The exercise will warm you up anyway.”
    “I know how to groom myself.”
    “I am not talking about grooming. I am talking about getting rid of those parasites.”
    “Will it hurt?”
    “No, it won’t hurt. Now, come with me.”
    And so, we started walking together. Me in front; the kitten following me behind.
    “I am hungry. And thirsty.”
    “Do you like worms?”
    “Do you have something else?”
    “I can get you fruits. No citric ones. I know you cats don’t get along with lemons and oranges.”
    “Can we go there now?”
    “No. The anting comes first.”
    Once in the anthill, I taught him how to do it.
    “This is why we don’t have parasites. Because we do anting. Come on! Stand on an anthill, let the ants climb on you, and then, rub them into your feathers... I mean, into your fur.”
    The kitten laughed again, but he did as I told him and I was glad to see that his obedience denoted trust, not fear.
    “I will help you with the rubbing this time. But next time you will have to do it alone.”
    And, as I was starting, the kitten came up with another one of his silly observations.
    “It tickles.”
    “I know it tickles, but just for a moment. This is what we are going to do. First, I am going to take you to some spot where we can get some fruit. And then I am going to visit some female cats I know to see if they are willing to adopt a new kitten. A female cat can take care of you better than me and, besides that, you could not live where I live because you can’t fly. It’s too high for you and I’ve seen lots of times kittens, and even cats, crying for help from the top of trees to which they climbed and from which they later didn’t know how to descend.”
    “I could try.... Maybe you can teach me to be a crow...”
    “To teach you to be a crow...” he repeated the kitten’s silly answer rolling up his eyes. “You don’t have wings! You can’t fly! I can’t teach you to be a crow! And crows and cats are not meant to be friends!”
    “Why not?”
    “Because most feral cats hunt crows?”
    The kitten shrugged. He seemed disappointed for a moment but then a new idea illuminated his face.
    “Maybe I can help you build a home closer to the ground.”
    “You are a toddler. Your place is eating and playing, not building homes.”

    I left the kitten in a safe spot, with enough food for the whole day, and I started visiting all the places I knew where families with a mom and dad could be interested in adopting a kitten. I visited three cats even though they were feral, but they said the winter was coming and that they had enough for themselves but could not feed another mouth. So, I tried with a couple of dogs. Same answer. I even tried it with a raccoon. The same. That’s when I realized the problem I had gotten myself into: I had saved the kitten and now he was my responsibility.

    When I came back home, at the tree to whose roots I had trusted the kitten, I made up my mind.
    “Kitten, this is what we are going to do. The families I have visited say they would love to have another kitten, but they are not prepared to feed another mouth so close to the winter. So, you are going to spend the winter with me and then, in the spring, we will find you a new home.”
    At first, the kitten didn’t seem enthusiastic about my decision, but then he welcomed it with a huge smile if that thing cats do with their mouths open can be called a smile. It was as if he knew something I didn’t. The point is that he looked happy with the decision.
    “Don’t celebrate so soon. Toddler or not, you will have to help me build a winter house closer to the ground. I will bring all the materials and drop them here. And you will take them to the spot I am going to select. Do you think you can do that?”
    The kitten seemed happy with his orders. He nodded and said yes over and over.

    The obvious choice in winter would be the coastal areas, where the water tempers the temperature. But that’s also where predators go, so I did what I do when I am not traveling to warmer areas near the sea: to just add more feathers and straw to my home. This time, I had no choice, of course, and fortunately, it seemed we were not going to have a hard winter.
    For close to three hours, I brought the usual to build nests: branches, twigs, hair, twine, bark, plant fibers, mosses, cloth, and other materials. Dutifully, the kitten moved everything with his mouth to the place I had chosen, high enough to be safe, low enough to allow the kitten to jump to the ground without hurting himself.
    When I finally returned with the last load, which I took to the spot where the kitten was waiting for me, I started building our winter home. The kitten wanted to help me with everything, getting in the way no matter how many times I told him that I was already on it. Sometimes it was annoying, but helping me seemed to make him happy and I didn’t have the heart to say no, so I kept accepting his help even when his help was not needed.
    Then we had to build dry food reserves just in case we couldn’t find anything edible in days of lasting storms or heavy snow.
    “Are you used to dry food, kitten?”
    “N-no... Just milk.”
    His answer broke my heart so, as always, I changed subjects.
    “Worms and fruit too apparently. Well, this is going to be your first winter. In winter, it’s very cold and there is not much food so, if we run out of food, you will have to learn to eat dry food.”
    “What is dry food?”
    “Insects, seeds, grains, nuts, fruit, mollusks, worms.”
    “I like fruits.”
    “It’s not a matter of what you like. It’s a matter of what we can get. Okay?”
    “Okay... And water?”
    “Water is not a problem. There is plenty of rain and plenty of snow.”
    “Snow?”
    “Powdered water.”
    “Ah!”

    For almost a week we worked together, we ate together and we slept together. Of course, the kitten wanted to do everything I did. Everything but flying. A couple of days later he showed me how he had done his own anting, just as I had taught him, and he passed with flying colors. So, I taught him to make tools. I taught him to build a safe house. I taught him the best places to get food too.
    In the next three weeks, the kitten grew smarter and stronger. His playing habits changed too and now going after some butterflies while I engaged in my meditations was not enough for him. He wanted to wrestle me, to which I always said no, but in the end I always found myself wrestling with the kitten. It did normally start with him trying to lock my neck with his arms to bring me to the ground and it did normally end with me covering him with my wings and hooking his legs with mine. When he was on the ground and I was trying to find my way to his guard, he would sometimes nip my wings to stop my advances and when I was on the ground and he was trying to get in my guard, I would peck him on his paws. Full of life. Full of promise.
    And because some things are better left unsaid, I abandoned any new attempt at asking him questions about his family. We were family now... at least until the Spring.

    “Idiots! They chase us out of their crops even when most of the insects we eat are what their enemies, what they themselves, call agricultural pests. We are much better than all that insecticide they end up eating with their own crops.”
    That was me lecturing the kitten about why I don’t like going to agricultural fields.
    “We the crow help them with their pests more than what we take for food, but they are too stupid to realize that. I must assume they are not the same humans you find on Sundays at the park. Remember I told you about them? Now, it’s too cold, but when spring comes, I’ll take you to the park so you can see them by yourself.”
    “You know so many words...”
    The kitten looked up to me and I liked that. And it was a bit pretentious, yes, but the honest fact was that I liked that.
    “That’s why I always come back on the same! To make sure you continue your education and that you don’t end up like a loafer on top of being a hairball.”
    The kitten laughed when I talked to him like that. I wouldn’t, had I noticed my words hurt him. But in them, he seemed to find permission for familiarity.
    “Are all humans stupid?”
    “I told you about the humans I saw playing on Sundays...”
    “Yes, but that’s on Sundays. I mean... could they be the same humans and be stupid the rest of the days?”
    “Well, there is a couple I have seen. They live not far from here. Sometimes they leave seeds for me by their porch. The guy is middle-aged, almost bald, chubby, glasses. The wife is chubby too, always with an apron, glasses too. They leave me seeds and I sometimes leave them some nice and shiny gift at their front door. Always, remember, you must show your gratitude. There are too many predators in this world, so when you see kindness, show gratitude.”
    “Mm-hmm.”
    “I have to teach you about predators too. Not just in theory, but in the field too. The theory is not good if you can’t apply it in the field.”
    “Did you like the seeds I brought you?”
    “The seeds? Yes. Yes. Those are my favorites. But I guess you had already noticed that. That’s why you picked precisely those, right?”
    “Well..., yes. Are we going to see the town?”
    “Yes, I said yes already. In the spring. But you have to promise to follow my instructions.”
    “I promise. And what is there beyond the stream?”
    “Many things. But none that is really important. What is important is to have a home and a family. All streams have water. All skies have clouds. All forests have trees. But you have only one family. That’s why we are going to find a family for you in the spring.”
    “But I like it here...”
    “You are a cat and I am a crow...”
    “Yes, but you have only one cat and I have only one crow. Every place has families but you have none...”
    “Nice try. We’re going to find you a family in the spring anyway.”

    I have to admit that that winter was not that cold thanks to the kitten. On the coldest days, when temperatures are cruelly cold, nights after which you find the frozen bodies of animals who couldn’t find proper shelter, the kitten’s fluffy body gave me as much warmth as I gave him. His silly questions made me company. And soon I even got used to the nights when he woke me up trying to milk me in his dreams with his raspy tongue.
    We watched together from our shelter the snow and the freezing rainfall. We sought together that January rachitic sun’s warm rays and its blinding shine with eyes wide shut. One day he wanted to know where all the cats came from. Another day he wanted to know where all the crows came from. And I got used to answering truthfully what I knew and to making up all the rest. Then he started making questions about the humans I had studied. And then about something else. And then about something about which I had already given him an answer that he had forgotten. And if you find an inconsistency in me becoming so lenient with him when I had been so strict with myself, you are correct. But I didn’t care. Probably by then, the kitten knew me better than I knew myself because every time the avenging angel of my orderly, methodical life wanted to raise its voice to reprimand him for one of his whims, the kitten purred and rubbed his neck on mine, and the avenging angel, having lost my endorsement, went away.
    Fortunately, none of us got sick, or hungry, or received the unwanted visit of some predator. So that winter was not the coldest but it was cold. I myself felt its freezing arrows through my feathers. But I was so happy that I couldn’t remember when, at any time, real or imaginary, I had loved life so much. And that’s when Spring came.

    When Spring came, I didn’t mention again the search for a new family for the kitten and the kitten didn’t seem interested in reminding me about that either. So we tossed the issue into the trunk of unwanted questions, where I had already tossed the questions about the kitten’s family, about why his mother had abandoned him, and we moved on. That Spring brought me the answer though.

    It all started with the lumps and the sores. My first inclination was to explain them as insect bites, ticks most probably. So I took the kitten to his first anting of that Spring. Then I changed the straw in our bed in the hope of finding and punishing the culprits. But I found none. The kitten continued being as playful as ever, not giving importance to his skin lesions. Cats know how to hide pain very well after all. Or maybe he knew and just wanted to keep the light of his candle alive for me. Maybe. But I did feel something was not right.
    The matter is that the lesions persisted and by the third day, I went to forage for the medicinal plants we the crow know. I personally turned them into an ointment with the stream’s water and some saliva and applied the compound to his wounds. I even visited the cats I knew to make sure I was not harming him with my stupid crow diet; to make sure I was not doing something wrong. I also inquired with them about the anting. Probably those sores were the result of the anting. What works for crows doesn’t have to work for cats after all. But no, it was not the anting. I didn’t know what to do. Icy water seemed to run through my spine and the kitten started noticing it. And yet, the more he noticed it, the more cheerful and playful he was. But I knew something was wrong. I went to every single animal I knew for an answer but they either didn’t know or told me something I had already considered.
    “Don’t worry. It’s a rash or scabies” he said once trying to make me feel better. But it was not a rash. We the crow know about rashes and I had already applied on his wounds the medicine we know for rashes and even the one we know for scabies. Those little spiders would’ve had no chance against our medicine.
    Then his salivary glands inflamed and he started having difficulty eating. To that, bowel problems followed. He either couldn’t urinate or relieve himself like before or had the kind of diarrhea I had only seen in animals affected by food poison. Of course, Spring yielded to Summer and Summer to Fall and we never could go to see what was beyond the stream, much less to the city to see the humans playing in their parks. I tried and retried and kept making questions but the battery of liveliness in the kitten seemed to be turning off. That’s when, after many times trying to find a solution in the vain hope of keeping my little piece of heaven with me, I knew there was only one thing left for me to do. And I did it.

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