Seven Miles Away
Cat didn't know what to do. It was noon already and everything was wrong. Very wrong. Every other morning, when the sun came up, she would jump on the bed and gently, quietly, wake Alma. Alma would smile, pet Cat, murmur a few quiet words, and their day would begin. But this morning, Alma wouldn't wake up.
Noon came and went. Everything that they had done together, had not been done. The phone rang again. Cat paced. It rang and rang. Cat jumped on the bed for the twentieth time. Alma would not move. Cat settled down next to Alma to wait. Again.
There was pounding at the door. Cat waited. A key in the lock. Cat stayed by Alma. People rushing in, shooing her off of the bed. More people. More noise. Cat ran outside to get away from it all. She saw Alma on the stretcher, covered with a sheet, being rolled into the ambulance. Cat waited.
For three days Cat waited. The door was closed, she couldn't get back in. She had no food. The nights were getting cold. She cried. No one heard. She dreamed, huddled in the grass under a tree. Of good times. Cat and Alma together. Food. A warm lap to hold her. Kind hands to brush her. A soft voice to talk to her. Cat slept, shivering. Cold.
When daylight came on the fourth day, she hunted for food. She was lucky and found some scraps in a trash can down the road. She was weak, but hurriedly swallowed it down, fearful of being in a place she hadn't been before. She went home. And waited again. Another cold night.
Cat was getting weaker, she knew she had to do something. She had to follow Alma. She tried to think but couldn't. She could only walk. Walk away from that house where she had lived almost all of her life. All of the life she could remember anyway. She started up the road in the direction Alma had gone.
The woman, seven miles away, cried. Two days ago she had lost what she considered her best friend. She forced herself to go to work, but she could not control what she did after she went into her office. With the door shut, she put her head down on her desk and cried. She knew that her co-workers would not understand. It was just a cat, after all. Just a cat. Just nine years with a warm heart that loved her just the way she was. Eyes that looked to her with trust. Walks through the meadow, chasing after leaves and butterflies. Evenings spent together, quiet purring at her side. And her friend was gone. Died quietly, quickly. Permanently.
The woman got through the day, rode home, and fixed herself something to eat. Sat down in front of the tv. Paid no attention to the show. Sat there for twelve hours. Got up, took a shower, got dressed and went to work again. The following day was Saturday. She stayed in bed for 24 hours. Sunday she got up and fixed food. Did not eat it. Put it into the refrigerator. Went back to bed. She cried. Monday, she went through the motions all over again. Day after day.
Thanksgiving came. She went to the small family gathering. Put on a brave face. Ate. Said thank you to everyone, then went home again. She turned on the tv. Did not watch the show. Sat there for 12 hours. Ate. Got dressed. Went to work.
Seven miles away, Cat sat by the side of a road. It was early morning. It was raining. It was cold. Cat didn't know which way to go. She had lived off of whatever she could find, where ever she could find it. But now her will had gone. She was wet. She shivered. She didn't know what to do. So she just sat there.
Mike ran through the rain to his car. He had to be at his job at the Animal Shelter by 7 am. He'd make it. Just. Before he came to the turn for the main road, he had one stop sign. He slowed, tapped the brake, looked, and was just about to shoot through the empty intersection when something caught his eye. On the side of the road huddled a wet, bedraggled cat. Well, nothing I can do about it he thought. His foot hit the brake again. He got out, in the rain, reached into the back seat and pulled out an old jacket.
Slowly, he approached the cat. It didn't move, except to shiver. It's long, grey fur was matted. It was thin. It's eyes were dull. It never looked at Mike. He went over to it, put the jacket around it and picked it up. It didn't make a sound. He put it into the back seat and hurried on to work.
Cat sat in the back of the car. She had been in cars before, but always with Alma. She was scared, but too cold and hungry to react. The car stopped and the man reached for her. He kept her wrapped in the jacket and carried her into the building. She was passed off to several people. She was given food, bathed and put into a cage. She slept, warm for the first time in a week. There were no dreams for this sleep. Just a warm, long sleep.
And Cat's days began. Food in the morning, passed into her cage. Sounds of animals all around her. Someone let her out for a few minutes each day. Her cage was cleaned, her litter box emptied. She was put back into the cage. She could move around, but not walk. She could lay stretched out, but not run. So she just laid there. In the evening, food and water was passed into her cage again. She slept. Sometimes with those wonderful dreams, sometimes not.
Occasionally someone would open her cage and put her on a table. Cat would sit there calmly, head down while people looked at her. She would never raise her eyes to look at the people. She would be put back into her cage while the people went to another cage. Some of the animals went out the front door with strange people that seemed happy. Some went out the back door with attendants that seemed sad. Day by day Cat was moved to a cage further towards the back of the room and new animals came in to fill up the front cages. This went on for two long months. She was now in the last cage.
Seven miles away the woman turned her TV on. It was Saturday. Again. So many had gone by. Christmas had come and gone. She had put up no decorations. She briefly spend an hour or so with some family members, but just like Thanksgiving, her heart just wasn't in it. Now it was sometime in January. She was off for three days. Monday was a holiday. Which one? Could she remember? Did she care? No. She stared at the tv. She didn't watch the show.
She no longer felt the ghost of her friend in her lap. No longer saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She had packed up all traces of her friend and put them into a box, way back in the closet. She cried. Softly now. The tears rolled down her plump, gently wrinkled face one by one. Without thinking, she got up, got dressed, picked up her car keys and went to her car. Where was she going? She didn't know. She was just going. She drove, without thinking. Just drove. She drove for seven miles. She turned the car into a parking lot. She turned off the engine and looked at the front of the building. Humane Society.
The woman sat in the car, staring at the building. What am I doing here? Do I want another cat? NO! I darn well don't. Do I want to go through this all over again? NO. Then. what. am. I. doing. here... She got out of the car. She walked into the building. An attendant was sitting behind the desk and asked the woman if she could help her. Words came out of the woman's mouth. Yes, do you have a cat just like me? The attendant looked blankly at the woman. The woman said words again. Older, lonely and sad. Slowly a light came into the attendants eyes. She smiled and said, yes.
Cat laid in her cage. Mind drifting. Drifting back over all of her years. Cat figured she had seen about eight summers. She relived them, one summer at a time. Her dull eyes were closed, her long fur laying close to her skin. Someone came to her cage, bent down and opened the door. She was picked up and put on the table again. She just sat there, head down. She heard a voice. A soft voice. Talking to her. Calling her. A hand reached out and brushed her fur. Her head was gently cupped in a warm hand. The voice kept talking, the hand kept stroking her fur until finally Cat looked up. She lifted her head slowly, raised her eyes slowly. The voice kept quietly talking, the hand kept its soft touch. Cat looked into the eyes of the woman.
A week later, seven miles away, the woman sat in front of the TV, the warm soft body of Cat by her side. She stroked Cat's long fluffy fur, Cat purred her thanks and snuggled closer. Cat was thinking about what she would do if the woman didn't wake up the next morning. The woman was thinking about what she would do if Cat didn't wake up the next morning. They both smiled, knowing that they were happy for now. They watched the show. Together.
This story is reprinted here with permission of the author, Karel Bergstrom. Please visit Karel's Restless Legs Syndrome support site, Nightwalkers to read more of her stories and for the story behind the stories
