One evening of one life
It was getting dark. Once again, I am walking down the street where I walked a thousand times and I know by heart. Many believe that we, stray cats, just walk on the road with no objective, thinking only about what to eat or where to sleep.
In fact, no single person will be able to understand and unravel the whole tangle of thoughts, which is now in my head. Basically, I'm not your ordinary cat because once I was a human being. This is evidenced by the fleeting fragments of memories of my past life, which now seem completely ridiculous to me.
Humans are in general ridiculous creatures. They constantly want to stand out from the crowd, to show themselves to others, not realizing that any other person has the same goal. If a person appreciates the merits of another person, it is only so that other person reciprocated. Sometimes it may seem that one person is listening to the other, when in fact he is just waiting for his turn to speak. You will probably disagree with me. Perhaps you're right. I do not know.
Take me – I’m a cat. Just a black cat walking down street by myself, the street that I walked a thousand times and I know by heart. People believe that black cats bring bad luck. Supposedly they are unclean creatures. Of course, not everyone thinks so. But you personally: imagine that you are walking on one of two parallel lanes. And suddenly, a cat crosses your path, black as the night. I can bet that you will move to the other lane. People do not realize that if a black cat crosses their path, he just needs to get somewhere.
I am walking past the cottages. Somewhere nearby some Mexicans are talking. Americans sometimes make fun of their Spanish accent. But Mexican immigrants are people too. Yeah, maybe hungry Mexicans, who were not able to find a job, had to eat a couple of cats, but that was just out of hunger. So cat meat tortas and tacos they sell at the gas station is the same myth like the one about crocodiles living in a sewer. Now the immigrant workers are left behind me and I am crossing the river on a shaky bridge and going to take a walk in the cemetery.
I have not yet met anyone who could easily walk around a cemetery at night. People are afraid of cemeteries. Why? Well, dead people, evil spirits... Why are people so afraid of the dead? Maybe they just have done something wrong themselves, and now they are ashamed to face the dead. What if suddenly a dead person will come out of the grave and recall you all of your sins, and then will jump on you, bite you on the neck and in the morning they will find you dead in the cemetery... I swear, like little children. Human imagination often plays against them. They can get scared of a shade in the cemetery and can pretend that they are doing well when they are in a critical situation. Why am I saying this? Well, to demonstrate, that us cats we have a reasonable outlook on life. People often base their actions on the worst case scenarios, we act based on reality.
Oh, here we go, that seems to be my grave. Rather no, it’s not mine. It belongs to the person whose memories sometimes pop up in my head. I do not know whether a reincarnation of a cat into a person is possible, but if it is possible – it is undoubtedly the best gift to mankind. In my memory there is a story told by someone: a priest began a funeral service for a deceased woman, and suddenly, in front of everyone to see her legs began rising. The priest’s eyes almost popped out of his head. Everyone was hoping for a miracle when suddenly a black cat got out from under the deceased. People like to hope for a miracle when they get into a hopeless situation. This often prevents them from thinking clearly.
So, how did I know that it was the right grave? I felt it. Simply felt like people can feel a smell or a hot griddle.
I suppose I should say something like "sleep tight." I do not know. People cannot accept the fact that a person has died. They come up with explanations that a person fell asleep, even if forever. Probably, "rest in peace" is more suitable here. Well, I think I should go back. To that same street, which I walked a thousand times and I know by heart. Here comes a man. He is walking his dog. Well, what are you looking at, asshole? And keep you dog close, let me go quietly. With dogs you have to walk every day, and with us cats – you just let us out and in a couple of hours we come back. But people like dogs more because they are damn loyal to their owners. When the owner is in pain, the dog suffers too. If you throw your dog a stick, he will not hesitate to bring it back. Cats do not behave like that, oh no! They will do everything to make sure that got what they want. Sounds familiar?
And so, I am back on a familiar street. I don’t call it mine, because nothing is holding me here. Homeless people constantly sleep in the same place until they are chased out. We cats can spend a couple of days here, a couple of days there... People can return to their street after thirty years, and then they feel nostalgic, they make sure to look into every nook and cranny, noticing everything that has changed. And we ... we feel nothing, apart from the smell of other cats living in houses on the same street.
Some teenager decided to play with me. Yes, precisely with me because there are no more cats on the street. They're all settled in for the night. Well, ok, I will go to you, and then what? Are you going to feed me? As far as I can see, you are not holding a large piece of sausage or even sausage scraps in your hands. Will you pat me? No, thank you. You're not my owner. I do not have a person in my life that could be called that. Dogs need owners and us cats – we are not some things to own. Maximum – someone to feed us. No, this annoying kid did not understand what I do not want to interact with him! He is already carefully so as not to frighten me, approaching me with a lowered hand. Dude, if you want to please me, get away from me. Oh, I don’t really feel like it, but I’ll have to run a bit. He probably will not run after me. He is not a little kid.
There is a pretty comfy spot ahead, overgrown with grass. I should get settled there until the morning. Some people think that cats sleep a lot due to laziness. In fact, they just do not need highly spiritual leisure activities. And where do I take these words from? Probably from the time when I was still a human… Well, here we go again! People have come up with so many words, although they could do with half of them.
That's good, I can sleep now. Somewhere on the right I hear screeching of the brakes. If I had not closed my eyes already, I would certainly look at what was happening there. The sound was getting louder. I should probably go look. A truck lost control and is driving straight at me. Oh, damn, I only got comfortable. Bang! Darkness…
And again, I am standing at the grave, which for some reason I want to call mine. Now, how many lives do I have left?