Old Tom (final)
The kitten continued to mew and purr, returning back to the bowls set out for it. Over and over between the bowls and Old Tom interrupting the route with a little mew here and a purr there.
“It is strange how these beings live, yes?” Tom said.
“Meow. Rrowm,” Yes, but they are so handy, the kitten said.
Watching the kitten eat heartily, Old Tom said, “Yes, we have the better life; we, who learned early on to stay down on all fours. They never realized their error in standing up.”
“Yowl!” Lucky for us! Said the kitten.
"What, their language offends you?” Old Tom began circling the young feline.
"Ya- OW- l” Can’t be too careful. Said the kitten.
"I keep it up merely as a curiosity. Your mother was a purest then?” Tom was curious.
“Meoooow. Miiioooo. Rroww-mawr.” Strict. It is hard on the tongue. Any Dogs around? The kitten looked around the kitchen for signs of a canine.
"No, I find it a palpable language. What was that? Dogs? Oh, yes we have them here. They are as incorrigible as any other dogs, though more easy going than some.” Tom said.
“Mew.” Where are the dogs? The kitten was on alert again.
"Do you speak at all?” Tom decided not to give away any more detail to this unknown creature least it spoil Tom’s situation.
The kitten walked the perimeter of the kitchen in search of canine scent. “A little, we, my litter, and I were separated. The being who took me was unacceptable. No where near as well trained as mother's. I aim to find members of my litter and mother,” the kitten said.
"Well, if you so choose to remain here, this is as compatible as any other, but I think you may find it better than most.” Tom left the kitchen and slowly sauntered to his window sill throne in the living room, where he was before so rudely awakened.
The young kitten followed, “You are lazy.” He followed the older cat through the dinning room. The kitten watched as Tom leapt up on to the window sill, kneaded the cushion his human had placed there for Tom’s comfort, settling in for a second morning nap. The kitten rushed to sit in judgement of the older feline under the window sill on the living room floor. Looking up the kitten said, “You have let go of your heritage.”
Old Tom merely sighed and rolled over into a sun spot on the sill. As the warmth of the light through the window warmed his old bones as it had the spot in the cushion that eased the age of the under side of his body. Tom stretched out to take full advantage of both the sunbeam and the pillow. Tom yawned. “So, what is it that you want me to do?” Tom asked.
“Want you to do? You should do something, that’s for sure. Stop being the lap cat of this human.” The kitten got up to walk back to the kitchen and finish the bowl of food the human had set out for him. “Free food moocher that you are!”
Offended, Tom sat up stopping the freeloader, “Free food moocher? I catch mice that would destroy the food supply. I will have you know I have counseled my human through college and two career moves. And a move across the state away from his parents. I earn my benefits.” Tom turned his back to the upstart and settled back down for his nap.
The kitten paused long enough to assure himself that Tom wasn’t going to add any further retort. “Well, you should get out of here and get back to being a cat. Live an independent cat life. That is what I am going to do.”
Tom opened one eye and yowled at the backside of the kitten, “Well, you haven’t earned the food you ate to day. My food might I add.” Tom reflected on when he was a young kitten; seeking out his mother and liter mates, thinking himself to be progressive. He had returned to his human, lucky to be taken back. Survival. It wasn’t all what it sounded like when you are a young cuff. This one will likely never be anything but feral. Nothing to do for it. You either come to your sense or not. This young one didn’t see that he was looking backward. He hadn’t tried anything new. Yet. You just can’t force progress. Tom purred to himself to drown out the sound of the kitten consuming his meal.
