THE FALLING DARKNESS AND APPEARANCE OF MYSTERY CAT II

I deciphered the words at the top of the first sycamore leaf.
THE FALLING DARKNESS AND APPEARANCE OF MYSTERY CAT

How very odd this was. Impossible perhaps
but here it was.
I was amazed at the manuscript my good cat Clio had written.
Why had she left it here? If it was that important
surely there must be a Cat King somewhere to have
given it to.

Also, being curious, I further examined the
"ink" that she had used on the leaf pages.
What was it? And what instrument had she used to write?
Soon I discovered that she had used her own claws to do the
writing with. Each claw like the nib of an old fashioned
fountain pen. Now to the ink. That's a different story.

As far as I could tell it was blood. Whether animal or my own
I cannot say. God knows she scratched me enough times over the
years. She could have written a book with it I'm sure.

And now, as to the content of the book itself, here's where I start to share with
you what she wrote. As I said the title seems to be
THE FALLING DARKNESS AND APPEARANCE OF MYSTERY CAT

And then her story begins:

I, Clio, write these words to record a history of the strange life I have lived.
And not just me, all of us.

My life began as a kitten. The usual ball of string
upbringing among the people animals.
They dangled the string and I was expected to bat at it.
I did this for a time (foolish me, the string did hold a
mysterious fascination early on) but eventually came to my senses.

They tried to get me addicted to their noxious herbs encased in
annoying and colorful little plastic spheres that they would roll noisily across
the floor but I refused. The herb might be enticing to some but
I knew I was not meant for that. My life would be an adventure.

But I go on about nothing important. The real adventure began just
a long season ago. I say "long" as if we cats had all the time
in the world. Compared to the people animals our lives are
but a glimmer on the water of the creek behind me.
That's alright though.

We is what we is, and a gift given by
the unseen one, no matter how we perceive it, is still a gift.

The strange days began in darkness.
The best time of day if you ask me.
On one particular night.
It was a full silver sphere night as well.

The cat face of the great orb, hanging in its glorious circle high above us,
smiling as always before the dog star begins to eat away at it plunging us
again in darkness.

I wandered familiar paths in the back yard of my people animals.
Crouching low beneath the hollyhocks, winding my way through
the ferns and flowers, stopping ever so often to smell a branch
to see who was out and about.

There was a scent on the thick stem of a sunflower.
I smelt of it once, then again. This was no smell I knew.
Its language was mysterious and unknown.
I got no picture of the cat who made it. Or any other
creature for that matter. For all I knew of it, it might as well
have been made by a fish swimming in the air.
Ha! What a picture!

Hmmm. I do like fish though. Raw or cooked.

NEXT: THE CAT IN THE MOON GOES BACK

- Jeff Falk