Estimated reading time: 15 minutes
One fine Spring day—twas a Friday at midday, to be exact— on the banks of Ballyreeney river, young Jimmy McDaid sat with his father’s fishing rod in one hand. In the other was a cherry vape, a habit he had picked up that year in school from the sixth formers. The gurgle of the stream, as it rounded polished stones on its curving route around the green fields, was accompanied by the occasional squawking bird, high overhead. The sounds of nature. In a word—bliss.
He hadn’t had a bite on the line all morning, and that was just fine. He leaned back, setting the rod to one side and held a hand on top of the reel, ready to pounce at the first tremor. As he stared up at the splotches of white on blue, he detected a new sound. His ear tuned to it, turning his head ever so slightly. Again. This time, closer.
Miaow
Jimmy sat up quickly, anticipating the speed of the current. He raced to the river’s edge and, glancing upstream—lo and behold—saw a blue plastic bag zigzagging his way. Jimmy crouched, bending across the narrow stream and stretching, hooked out the bag and flung it onto dry land. The cries continued, and he quickly undid the knot and let the water flow out of the bag. Opening, he was shocked to find eight or nine kittens, limp little bodies—stripes of grey and white, huddled at the bottom of the bag with eyes that would remain forever closed.
“Poor wee critters,” he said, and began removing them carefully one by one, arranging them on the ground. Among the coats of wet fur, his eye caught movement, followed by a weak cry.
Miaow
Jimmy spotted the shape buried beneath the rest and carefully extracted the little mite, seemingly the runt of the litter, and placed the kitten gently on a dry patch of grass. It was unsteady on its legs and appeared to be only a few days old. Its eyes blinked rapidly, and with the jet black fur and smaller stature, Jimmy reckoned it looked more like a rat than a cat. Noting that it was shivering, the boy held it up close to his face and breathed hot air on it. The kitten shut its eyes against the warmth, a small smile bursting from its chubby cheeks.
He placed it back down again, and the kitten appeared to recover some of its wits, for it turned and staggered toward Jimmy again, curling up next to his leg. Soon after, it closed its eyes and appeared to fall asleep. For the next twenty minutes, a tiny snore like a nail being filed, was a new addition to the ambient sounds. Jimmy divided his time between looking at the rod, his new companion—who he dared not disturb from his slumber—and the litter of wet kittens dead and drying in the high-rising sun.
“Little buggers had no chance. What animal—”
“Are they dead?”
The small voice startled Jimmy. Even more so when he looked down, and saw the expectant face of the kitten staring up at him, awaiting an answer.
Frozen, Jimmy met that stare. The wind picked up, and the little kitten inched closer to the boy’s leg for warmth, tucking its head down for protection. After a minute or two, and when it appeared to have fallen asleep again, the young boy placed an arm around the little black comma, shielding it from the wind.
“Everything’s going to be OK, now. I promise.”
Two hours later, when he finally looked at his watch, he noticed that it was long after schooltime. Bunking off, like vaping, was another new habit and one that he had gotten away with, insofar as the teachers had not yet called his parents. That was likely to change, though, if he wasn’t home in time, and by his count, he would be cutting it fine.
The kitten stirred when Jimmy sat up. A long languorous stretch was followed by a little sneeze.
“Bless you,” Jimmy said, rubbing the drying fur of its tiny chest.
“Thanks,” the kitten replied.
“How—? Am I—?”
The kitten rose on unsteady feet, and staggered to the assembled shades of grey and black figures, lined in a long row of columns like a barcode.
“Farewell, brothers and sisters. Memento Mori.”
“Momento, what?”
Turning, the kitten faced Jimmy, a stolid expression amplified by those large and unmoving black eyes. “You may throw them back into the river,” he said. “The river of life will carry them onward.”
After Jimmy had carefully placed the dead kittens into the river, watching their journey to God knows where, he picked up the kitten and placed it in the oversized pocket of his coat, arms wrapped around his waist. They crossed the farmer’s field, passing behind hedgerows to escape prying eyes from his house, before eventually finding the country lane which led to the main road. The kitten’s head popped outside the pocket opening, observing without comment, as Jimmy bounded forward, hopping iron gates, and squeezing through bramble bushes with the fishing rod.
Suddenly, Jimmy paused by the roadside. Looking one way, then the other.
“What’s wrong?” asked the small voice at his waist.
“The bus. Sometimes it’s late.”
“And?”
“It’s not late, today. Old Jeannie is still in the living room, twitching her curtain. See?” Jimmy pointed to the house in the distance, and a long white finger curled around the drape. “Which means it’s not arrived yet. I need to make it look like I got on that bus. At the final stop, my ma will be there, watching that I get off, so she can pick me up.”
“Pick me up.”
“What?”
“I said, PICK ME UP!”
Five minutes later, as the blue and white schoolbus swung its way around the small country roads, depositing children on its way, the driver pulled up to a stop outside the old widow’s house. A tall and thin anaemic boy walked off, trailing his schoolbag down the steps.
“See you Bobby,” the driver said, as he said everyday, receiving the same response he always received. Nothing.
“One of these days,” he said to himself, and spat his chewing gum out the window. Suddenly, there was a flash by his side. A frantic movement and high pitched squawking. Wild flapping stung his face. A big black bird had entered the driver’s window, a blur of motion on his chest as the driver beat it madly, further enraging the creature. The driver opened the catch for his box, quickly exiting the bus, slapping his chest and freeing himself of the bird. A fishing line and hook were attached to one damaged wing, with the bird manically beating itself in a dancing circle.
“Bloody crow.” The driver got back on the bus and, settling back in his seat, looked in the rear view mirror not noticing the boy with the fishing rod.
Ten minutes later, Jimmy was dutifully collected by his mother without further drama. His rod was neatly disassembled into three pieces and tucked within the coat. When he got home, he went to his bedroom and locked the door.
“How did you know that would work?”
The kitten was propped on his desk, clearing its throat of a wet phlegm cough.
“Crows are omnivorous. They will eat your tackle grub, and even more so, if it’s seasoned with some ripe wild raspberries hanging on the bush. I gave directions, but your aim was true.”
Jimmy leaned back in his chair, staring at the kitten and smiling.
“Is there anything you don’t know?”
The kitten was downcast for a moment. “I know not of filial love. Nor the depths of darkness that encase a hardened heart. To this, I cannot speak.”
After a pause, Jimmy thought to ask. “Could you help me with my homework?”
The kitten looked up, and nodding said, “Aye.”
For what remained of the afternoon, the kitten was able to answer all of Jimmy’s questions about adverbs; converting fractions into decimals; parts of the human circulatory system; the differences between cities, towns and villages; the continents of the world; the Romans and their influence on Britain; Pattern and shape sequences, and much more. Their session ended with the kitten finally collapsing into a coughing fit, threatening to alert those passing his bedroom. Hiding the kitten in the desk drawer, the boy left the room and joined his family downstairs.
“Homework finished?”
“Done, already,” Jimmy declared. “Can we watch a movie tonight?”
“Not until I see it,” his mother said.
Jimmy winked at her, and stabbed his fork into the mound of chips.
When Jimmy returned to his bedroom later that evening, he slid open the drawer and found the kitten sleeping. There was a wheezing sound with every exhale and Jimmy stared, looking down at the small figure. He went into the bathroom storage press and found a cotton handtowel. Carefully sliding a hand underneath, he slid the kitten onto the soft towel.
“Tired,” the kitten mumbled, weak eyes struggling to open. “Cold.”
“Shhh! You’re OK. Rest. Night night.”
The next morning was a Saturday, which meant town. The day was spent hanging out with friends at the shopping centre playing vintage arcade machines, bowling and then for dinner, loaded dirty fries and a thick shake to celebrate. Loser pays. Or to be more precise, Loser’s dad pays. He stayed at his friend Mike’s house for the remainder of the day, before being driven home that evening. When he arrived, he went straight to his bedroom, and opened the drawer.
The kitten blinked rapidly at the bright light, shielding its eyes with a small white paw.
“Good, you’re OK.”
The silvery tear trails from the kitten’s pink eyes said otherwise, but Jimmy had already paced across the room and returning, held a page up which momentarily blocked the harsh light from the bulb in the ceiling.
“Do you know what this is?”
Squinting its eyes, the kitten peered up. “The planets. Discounting Pluto, of course, which recent records disqualify, given its diminutive size.”
“OK, good. Mike says we have a test on Monday, and I need you to tell me what you can, so I can pass it.”
“I…” the kitten coughed, doubling over, convulsing in a coughing fit.
“My God, I only just realised, you must be hungry. And thirsty. I’ll be back in a sec.”
The boy returned with a small bowl of water and dry crackers, crumbled into bite-sized flake pieces. When the kitten had regained control, it walked unsteadily to the water bowl and supped. There was a limp to its movements now. Jimmy could see one of the feet swollen and pink. The fur there was ragged and patchy in places.
“Better?”
“Better. Thank you.”
“OK. So, I don’t need to know about the planets now. That’s a tomorrow job.”
“So, what do you need?”
“Well,” Jimmy said, grabbing the back of his desk chair and sitting down. “Mike was telling me that his dad gave him the talk. I’m not sure what he means by that, but it’s do with boys and girls. Anyway, there’s this girl in class. Amanda. And I really like her. And, well, I want to know how to approach her. So, like, what advice can you give, about, you know, talking to girls?”
The boy and the kitten talked long into the night, Jimmy laying in the dark and staring up at the ceiling while the kitten talked. The boy received an education that few his age would gain in the entire span of their lives.
The following morning, when Jimmy awoke, he felt his worldview expand. Smiling as he practically leaped from the bed, he opened the drawer.
“Morning my little—”
The kitten was a hollowed shell of a creature. The skin had pulled back from its skull revealing large bulbous eyes. It shivered atop a carpet of fallen hair, its naked and emaciated form was various shades of pinks and blues and blacks. Thin veins trailed along its undercarriage. There was a dry scratchy sound released through its clenched teeth. The eyes, white film like fruit mould, pricked the dull pupil, as they rolled desperately in their sunken socket.
“You…OK?”
The kitten’s dry lips smacked together and it rolled off its back, large head rocking to one side, aimed in the general direction of the speaker.
“I…soon will be,” came the rasping response.
“I hope you weren’t too tired last night,” Jimmy said, a note of guilt inflecting his voice. “You should have said, if you wanted to sleep. It’s just…you know a lot. And, well, there’s a lot I need to know, you know?”
The large head rocked on a thin neck.
“If you’re sick, you need to rest. Right after my exam tomorrow. Deal?”
The kitten closed its eyes, and nodded.
Jimmy, feeling somewhat guilty dabbed his fingertip in the water and placed a few drops on the dry lips of the kitten. A slow purple tongue eked out from its dry pit for sustenance, before the soft screeching snoring returned. Jimmy slotted the drawer back in place and left the room.
As luck would have it, that day saw record temperatures for May. Prior plans were shelved, and the family decided to spend the afternoon at the beach. Seeking shelter from the sun in the evening, they extended their family time into a night at the movies. When they returned home, Jimmy went straight to bed exhausted. The next morning, he was awoken by a soft scratching sound. Remembering the kitten, he rushed to the drawer and opened it.
Gasping for breath, the kitten’s eyes bulged. A dry rasping cough spluttered blood onto the wooden panel. It tried to rise, staggered, hit the drawer partition and fell again.
“It’s OK,” Jimmy tried to reassure him. “You’re going to be OK!”
“Jimmy, you up, yet?”
“Yes ma.” He tipped the small bowl of water carefully onto the face of the creature that had once looked like a kitten.
“We go in ten minutes. You have that exam, remember?”
Jimmy’s heart sank. He had completely forgotten.
“Listen,” he said to the stricken animal. “I’ll get you what you need, but you need to help me first, OK?”
The bulbous eyes of the kitten were fused with burst blood capillaries. What hair had been there was now gone. The creature was a hairless bony chamber. Each intake of breath stretched the diaphragm—ribs threatening to lance through.
“Can you talk?”
“I. Can. Though it troubles me, so.”
“In that case, talk fast.” Jimmy reached across and grabbed the page from the top of his desk. “First planet. Nearest the sun. Tell me about it.”
The hideous thing that had resembled a kitten only 48 hours earlier took a deep breath, which clearly pained its master, for the shaking and pain etched on the face was clear to see.
“Mercury, she be.”
Ten minutes later, and on the final, alarming cry of his mother before she would inevitably ascend the stairs, Jimmy quickly got dressed, stood over the drawer and looked down. The kitten lay there motionless on its back, deathly still, gazing skyward. For once, the coughing had ceased, and its body was free of pain and tremor. Its bleeding eyes with peripheral vision of pink, sharpened to a central white dot—a lens, an aperture into all the world as he had known it in his brief time. Shrinking fast.
“I…thanks for helping me,” Jimmy said.
A soft rasping croak left the body of the sunken shape, which Jimmy had to strain to hear.
“While…we…teach, we…learn.”
Jimmy hesitated, hand on the drawer handle. “I’ll pick up something from the pet shop on the way home. ‘Spose water and crackers aren’t the best thing for a kitten. Actually, what is the best thing for a kitten?”
The kitten’s mouth cracked at the edges into a smile, unseen by Jimmy who, angling his body to the door, had received another volley of abuse downstairs from his mother.
“Nevermind. OK, wish me luck.”
“Good—”
The drawer closed, and the small chamber was filled with darkness.
This story was written for the ambitious creative project, ‘The Weekly Kook’, where I release a brand new short story every week for a year, totalling…yep, you guessed it – 52 stories.
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