A Break

This is me. User. Author. Writer. Whatever.
I've decided that the story of Kaiten the cat is over and done with; I simply can't think of any more that holds to her satiric finess when expressing herself. So I transition.
I give you the place where I will from now on play with concepts and ideas that strike my fancy in the way of storylines.
Thanks for reading.

Nine: My Return

Possibly the only issue on which humans have a correct understanding is that all other life forms on this planet are, at one point or another, striving to escape their custody. They do give up eventually, but attemps at freedom, whether initially or ultimately, can be expected to occur. Why? Human capture, or even interaction, is the single most undesirable experience known to all animals. Well, all animals in their right minds. Disease-carrying squirrels that start black plagues don't exactly share the aversion to little girls that us cats possess.
So when I returned to Sea Eyes after my little outing, I wasn't surprised to find her in tears, under the impression that I had run away. Of course, when she spotted me, she couldn't resist her instincual urge to strangle me via "hug". This time sharp, pointy force was necessary to obtain normal respiration performance.
Unfortunately, I hadn't taken into account the usual human reaction to my action: prevention from a future occurrence. Sea Eyes immediately shut the window and her door, never to open them again for the next two days. That is, until my bodily functions could be put off no longer; my detainment was then rapidly reversed, to my pleasure.
I'm just glad now that things are back to normal, despite the wonderful time I had with Grifick. But his parting words still echo in my head:
"You don't have to go back, you know."
"I know. But going back means realizing my dream of living the high life."
"The high life is where you make it. If you wanted, you could...you could make it here, now...with me.

"I want to be your escape, Kaiten."

Eight: An Old Face

Cats in general, though almost always misanthropes in the way of humans, are generally not unkind to other cats. In fact, it is not unheard of street cats to have one or more familiar acquaintances, despite human generalizations about our common demeanor towards them being applied to all other forms of life.
I, for instance, have one friend who has been my mentor from the beginning, guiding me to the gullible spots in town for food and so forth. He has been one I could count on. Grifick, as he is commonly known, looks not unlike me; medium-long black fur, and a subtle, lion-like mane. The only real difference between us is our eye color: my eyes are a deep ocean blue, his a fiery orange. He wears also a small tear in his left ear, a battle scar. We often stop to talk whenever our paths intersect.
One night, while dozing on Sea Eyes' bed, I awoke to the sound of shaking metal -- the fire escape. I looked out the window, already on my feet. Soon, a pair of noctilucent eyes the color of an eerie turquoise appeared in the dark void outside the window. I prepared to fight, arching my back, fluffing my fur, waiting to growl my formidable warning. And then Grifick jumped in through the open window. My low rumble quickly transformed into a surprised "hrrmm". How in the world did he find me here? My inner street warrior smacked its forehead; my habits of watching for followers had waned. Perhaps he tailed me and waited for night.
He dispensed with our usual warm greeting, and it dawned on me that he was quite winded. "You know," he panted, "it's a long climb up here. How do you do it?"
"Simple scavenging, however perhaps a bit too desperate, but food is an excellent motivator when you are faced with a formidable obstacle."
"Yeah, well, I'm not sure whether or not that's a good thing. I've always prided myself in being able to locate the most convenient food, no matter how hard to find. Speaking of which, how did you land yourself in a place like this?"
"It's a long story. The most important question right now is what in the world are you doing here? How did you find me?"
"I haven't bumped into you in a while, so I got curious. When I spotted you, I tried to catch up, but you were in a hurry. I saw you climb up the fire escape, and I waited for an opportune moment."
"Well, fine," I said, still skeptical, despite him being a good friend. "I hope you know that the kitchen is closed 24/7 to all tourists."
"Of course. I'm not as uncivilized as most youngsters out there, I thought you knew that."
"Naturally. But even the closest of relationships can be torn apart by bare necessities."
"Understood, but it will never come to that. Hey, you look like you're nearing that time of the month. I hope you don't plan on bleeding all over this poor girl's bedroom."
"Of course not. But I can't just take off for a few days; she'll think I've ditched her."
"A necessary cost. Come on, you can crash at my place for a few nights."

Needless to say, I always find him hard to refuse. He had a place in an alley next to a restaurant, and made space for me while I scoped out an inconspicuous place to make my monthly mess. But as our time together wore on, I realized that he was more to me than a mentor; he was my best friend and companion.

Seven: A Rude Awakening

Humans possess a grossly inaccurate belief that all cats have a natural predator side to them that automatically sufaces at the soonest glance of anything that might remotely resemble "prey". They also believe that this predatory "alter-ego" is fascinating to watch. I often hear my peers scoff at humans' repetitive tellings of any related personal anecdote, or fact to that effect.
I only speak of this aggravating, commonplace characteristic due to the fact that only two days after I had first slumbered on Sea Eyes' bed, the gained comfort of which I can only describe as celestial, I was cruelly rent from my doze and callously dumped on the floor in front of...a window, one that overlooked a street scene, a feature of which was a bird. There was absolutely nothing special about the bird. I chose this moment of opportunity to play dumb, despite Sea Eyes' repeated excited instructions to look out of the window. I nearly laughed at her frustration when I looked at her pointed finger with disinterest instead of the "singing chicken". However, this tool of amusement that doubles as a mild restitution for lost sleep is highly unoriginal; it has been utilized by many before me, and likely will be for many after. Hey, you can never kill a classic. I love thwarting humans' attempts at creating a fascinating nature experience right in the comfort of their own living room. When they try to produce an end that justifies a horrid means (namely, waking me up), and that end is taken away, it's great to see the result of a deserved fate: a long face.
How's that for inaccurate belief?

Behind the Sea Eyes

As Chloe walked down the hall, she saw a bird outside the window, not thirty feet away. She quickly ran back to her room to fetch Sammy. He would like to see something like this -- he was a cat after all, and cats hunt birds. She could already see him crouching low to the ground, waiting for a moment to strike. She found him sleeping on her bed. After deliberating about whether or not to wake him, she picked him up and rushed him to the window. He looked out of it for a moment, and then stared at her. "No, look! Look at the bird, right over there!" she pointed, but he just looked at her gesturing hands. "Look! Prey! Look at the bird, you dork!" Her pointing index finger then became the subject of his gaze. Disappointed, Chloe walked Sammy back to her room in her arms and set him on the bed.

As she exited the room, she wondered whether or not it was a good idea in the first place to indulge her whim of having a cat, much less a retarded one. Well, I'm sure the best times are soon to come, she thought to herself.

Six: Learning Human

As I lay on Sea Eyes' bed, I heard the approach of another human. It was a middle-aged woman, brunette, tall, and a demeanor characterized by a practical life. As soon as she saw me, her face went from composed to quite the opposite. She started yelling at Sea Eyes, calling her "chloe", and pointing from me to the window. "Chloe", as she was called, started talking very fast and soon the other human stopped yelling. Then she said something emphatically and walked out.

It was in this point in time that I wished I knew what they had said. I could only ponder the significance of my not being shooed out. Soon Chloe walked over and started stroking me, speaking in soft tones. One look at her eyes told me everything; no one else had known of my visits, but despite the surprise I was still able to stay. Her continued speech with a repeating pattern of intonation made me think I was here only at her promise to do copious amounts of duties, because it sounded like she was listing them at me. This speculation made me pause - maybe this human stuff wasn't so hard to learn after all.

Later she let me out of the room. I took this time to entertain second thoughts about getting so deeply involved with these doltish beings. However the thought of returning to the streets, constantly foraging for food and heat, quickly dissipated my doubts. I simply couldn't give up the meat scraps at the nearby human eating facility, though. I would have to lead a double life, eating from both worlds, sleeping in one and getting occasional pleasure from the other.

In any case, I decided to finally test out the famed human beds for a night. Oh, was it the most blissful sleep I ever had the chance to enjoy.

Five: Next Stop: The High Life

My evil plan was successful, as usual. I have to admit that doing that kind of, maybe, just a little bit made me sorry. Of course, I being a cat, internal resistance is futile. The emotion was assimilated.

Sea Eyes welcomed me with open arms when I jumped onto the windowsill. A little too open, in fact; I found it rather difficult to extract my body from them without using sharp, pointy force. But before she knew it, I had wormed my way into her heart - and, more importantly, her warm, comfy room. I was becoming more of a snob already with each step.

Her room was nothing like some dreadful infant girl's room, painted dark gray-blue instead of pink, a nice contrast. She had a single white lamp on her white ceiling - or rather, three lamps pointed in three different directions sharing a base. The walls had several large frameless pictures on them, spaced around the room. Surprisingly, there were no pictures of athletic or movie stars to be found. She had a loft bed, with a ladder. Underneath there was a desk with a computer and lots of books decorated here and there with small stuffed animals. The room gave me a sense of simplicity and individuality. It was as if it meant to convey, "yes, I'm a girl, and yes, I like girly things, but I don't have to be perky or pink." Not only that, but her room didn't carry a trace of any other animal, so I could have her full attention to myself.

All in all I felt that Sea Eyes and I would get along fine, as long as I got everything I needed. Pretty soon I would be a high-rollin' girl of the city, with Sea Eyes in tow.

Four: I Put on the Act

I figured if I was ever to have a chance at my version of affluence, I would have to play "dumb" for a while - that is to say, I would have to be a cuddly kitty in order to make any advances in my master plot.

So play dumb I did, and I readily ate out of Sea Eyes' hand despite instinctual red flags. She seemed quite elated at this, and the next day she tried to stroke the top of my head. I simply must confess that this is the route most animal control dolts take down the back of the head and towards the throat to slide some infernal object of restraint around one's neck. I even surprised myself by reacting on such a small scale as a simple hair-raise. Sea Eyes seemed on the verge of spontaneous combustion, so great was her excitement at this point.

But me being a cat, there is a low to zero tolerance for spontaneous combustion due to emotional overload. I cut short our meeting for the day. I could only imagine how much Sea Eyes would pick up the pace with bringing our affiliation to the next level in lieu of this novel development. By now I reasoned that level-ups were a good thing, so what did I care? The faster to my fantasy, the better.

Little did I know (and that doesn't happen very often), I would come to regret letting this escalate, because of some various human practices. But that story is for another day.

Three: An Evil Plan

You'd probably think that all cats have an insidious, self-serving master plan, but let's face it - most of the house cats that you interact with have brains that are too clogged with fat that they are ostensibly incapable of any cognitive endeavor. However, amongst any experienced stray, this is ordinarily the case. Such as I, for example. Whether the goal is the cozy life, or your next meal, you have to have a plan in order to survive. This is the law of brain and claw. All smart cats know this, and this is why when you try to feed a forlorn-looking stray kitty in a feeble attempt at planting the seed of companionship, you somehow feel used and pawn-like after the cat eats and then scrams, or in especially genius and cruel cases, eats and comes back, and then scrams after a week or so of such a routine. The simple truth is this: us cats? We're heartbreakers. Furry, cuddly, cutesy heartbreakers. And that is the way it'll always be, whether it's a stray running away after a new relationship, or your long-time pet putting itself before you in a situation, cats will break your heart. The only fool in these interactions is the human who thinks their cat loves them profusely, and will never leave their side, for better or worse. Please - your cat loves you because everyone knows not to bite the hand that feeds it. You give your cat food, warmth, protection, health care, fuzzy toys, and your undying love. Who wants to give that up?

And Sea Eyes is the same way. Only I won't run away. I will squeeze all the room and board I can get out of this thing, and when I do I'll be the cat every other stray looks up to, a regular city girl. And all the guys down in the alley will say, "hey, isn't that Kaiten? Boy, she definitely knows how to work those big, stupid bozos."

It may not be much for a peak of an existence, but hey - every sinister plan has to end somewhere.

Two: A New Opportunity

This wonderful one-sided relationship between me and the girl continued. I grew weary of referring to her in my head as "girl", so despite my better judgment, I gave her something resembling a name. This girl had big, dark blue eyes, and dark brown, almost black hair that went a little below her chin. She wasn't skinny or fat, but was of average weight for a human. The look of most humans' eyes when they see me is either disgust at a pest or eager to capture a "cuddly" prize; her eyes bore a look of kindness, almost respect. I suppose that it was this look in her eye that possessed me to keep returning to her. So she was no longer "girl", but "Sea Eyes".

Our routine, of sorts, was this: I would drop by around midday, and there Sea Eyes would be, waiting with a can of tuna or some chicken scraps to place on the floor in front of me - from a distance. And every day when she placed the food down, her hand would linger longer and longer. One day, for whatever odd reason, she would not put the food down. Her hand just hovered above the ground with the food in it. Past experience told me that foolishly taking the food led to capture and cages. No way was I going to let it happen again, especially in the hand of a girl, Sea Eyes or not. So I just sat there, waiting for her to put the food down. I'd already eaten a small snack that morning, so I could sit out this game of chicken as long as I wanted - I was only here for the food. Finally relenting after about two silent minutes of this, she placed the can down and resumed her usual spectator's position in the window. That's the deal with humans: you just have to show them who's boss. Of course, humans always rebel against their boundaries, thinking they're the boss. My philosophy? Ignorance is bliss.

And the next day, Sea Eyes did the same. We had another round of playing chicken, which ended up with me taking a couple of steps closer to her hand, and sitting down, waiting for my baited hook to jerk. Seeming smug, she put the food down. Too bad all cats are mutinous in the end until they go soft for the cushy life. Pretty soon, they can hardly walk, those fatties. I will never forego my ability to flee for the temporary apeasement of my tastebuds. She didn't really win. Humans are so funny, thinking cats are lesser than them. And yet, they will do just about anything for them. I admire those who have mastered the art of conquering humans, the ones who get a soft bed but outside access, the healthy, rich ones. And that thought sparked an idea: maybe Sea Eyes was my key to the high life. Yeah - the concept was so simple. Simply feign submission, she'll let me have access to her room, and then the house, and then it'll be a mere hop, skip, and a jump from my dream life. Cats are so cruel, using humans as servants, and yet humans take such joy in indulging their every need. Where's the injustice in that?

One: A New Face

I am most definitely and assuredly NOT a people cat. Unfortunately for me, little girls are almost always kitty people. Usually when most girls bring a cat home, their sensible parents don't let them keep it. However, some little girls have rich, doting parents, who care about nothing except their "little angel"'s instant gratification. It's pathetic, really. Parents who let their kids walk all over them let the kids become completly dependent on the parent at the same time. If every human had half the sense cats do, the world would be so much better for me - but they're not. This is the manner in which my freedom met its demise.

Dang. I missed my chance to make my rounds around the neighborhood, searching for scraps before the garbage men made theirs. I'd have to get close to humans if I wanted to eat that day. After a long time of searching and dodging stupid pint-sized girls, I spotted a discarded can of tuna fish and mayo...up a couple of levels on the fire escape. It's a good thing I know how to jump and climb up ladders. Yum. It was worth the effort. You have to enjoy those moments, because it's not every day a cat like me gets a meal like that. But I guess that tricksy tuna must have impaired my judgement, because I decided to take a bit of a nap after that big climb. Little did my tuna-drugged self know at the time that I chose to nap right under the windowsill of a bedroom window, to be later occupied. I guess you never really can have your cake and eat it too.

When I woke up, I was staring into the eyes of...another girl. A teenager, but a girl nonetheless. She did nothing. I stood stock-still, tensing for the runaway leap, but the girl made mo move to grab me. Interesting. Homosapiens typically have this annoying misconception that small animals love to be held and cuddled until the point of strangulation. I walked away, wary of this too-good-to-be-true encounter.

The next day, I found another can in the same spot. Too tempting to resist, I indulged. And so began the relationship between me and a human, of all things. Who knows - maybe I'm a people cat after all.