It was the spawning of evil. Meryl entrenched herself into our lives as a pretty little lady, and then morphed into a demon. They say there’s a thin line between love and hate. These days I wonder if hate is a strong enough word.
We met her on a gorgeous morning back in April, the kind that sings “seize the day” through the song of early rising birds. Chris and I set out with a hop in our steps and one destination in mind: the Harlem Animal “Kill” Shelter. Previously we’d wandered over, heard the heartbreak in the abandoned feline’s cries, and joined in. We were obsessed, and like a video montage of soldiers returning from war to visit their families set to adult contemporary music, we couldn’t stop watching.
The cat corral at the Kill Shelter is a lengthy room filled with 6 dozen tightly packed cages lining both walls. There are orange cats, mean cats, kitty cats, and fat cats. That particular morning I was overwhelmed by compassion, and Chris was sweating. As we turned to leave the volunteers asked us to stop being so creepy, I was drawn back by the sweet purr of a timid calico from the second to last row. We were magnets and she was an old rusty razor blade, racing toward impact. Without a doubt, we’d found our cat.
Our love bloomed in early May as Meryl, named after the most famous actress of all time, delighted us with her curiosity and bountiful charm. We took turns feeding pretty little lady from a syringe to bring up her weight, even consulting cat blogs and our local vet for opinions on wet versus dry food. Then we bought wet food, even though it is more expensive. That’s love.
As the days passed from spring to summer, her curiosity grew with her appetite. Her size doubled, and then tripled, her eyes hardened and begin to glow in pale yellow light. “She loves to play,” I said as Chris covered his ankles in bandages, “she’ll grow out of it.”
My patience for our angel waned when she choose my feet for her midnight playground. I tried locking and then unlocking her in the bathroom. It seemed so cruel, but yet, not cruel enough. The first time Chris suggested that adopting our little lady was a mistake I berated him and covered her ears, but within days we’d stopped calling her a little lady at all. The truth washed over me as slowly as the trickles of blood on my toes, “my cat hates me.”
Meryl planned her attacks innocently. She began to appear at inopportune moments, slithering across the floor just in time for my bare feet to bump into her torso. “What’s her endgame?” I wondered. I didn’t wonder long.
Late one September night, the moon shining brightly above us, Meryl made her move. Crawling into my room like she often does, she ignored her normal playground, and stood tall above my head on the windowsill. Watching…. Waiting….. then, with a loud thud she directed the full force of her four legged body backward toward the window. My full length mirror teetered but held, before gradually inching forward to an upright position. It stood there, a stone statue in purgatory. I was asleep, dreaming of Inception and Leonardo DiCaprio, unaware of the danger ahead, but soon enough the decision was made. The mirror found its gravity and cascaded down, crashing into my sleeping body like a kick from a dream within a dream (for the record, I think the spinning top stops at the end). I sprung awake amongst pieces of jagged glass and remained flat, breathing heavily, swimming in cold sweat.
Meryl caught my stare and I felt her displeasure. “Where’s the blood?” her eyes screamed, as she took off in a huff.
She had miscalculated. The mirror wasn’t high enought to shatter into me, just to break into large dull pieces. “Victory!” I smiled in short-lived relief, as I removed the pieces and walked to the kitchen to grab a garbage bag.
To this day it never crossed my mind that Meryl would be waiting for me…..
I don’t have much more to say. It’s too fresh, I’m not ready. All I know is that Meryl won the battle that day, and I’ve since relinquished all power to her. “She’s just a cat,” guests sometimes say. I nod and smile, but know better.
This morning I woke up to find Meryl at my feet like clockwork. I acknowledged her, she gave a short meow, and I nodded back in respect. She’ll continue to remind me of her power for the rest of my life, but I don’t think she’ll ever try to kill me again.
Besides, she has new enemies to pursue.
perfect.
Hahahahahaha. Loves.
I think she’s cute. And no, I still do not want her.
She’s a cat and that’s what they do! We’re just “rabble” in their eyes!