WHEN I BECOME A CAT…
Victor slowly made his way up to his floor. He stood there for a moment. The leg he had broken five years ago still ached.
He opened the door, stepped into the dark hallway of his flat, and without turning on the light, he paused.
It had been so long. So long since it happened — when he stepped over the threshold, and the house was already lit with light!
Victor involuntarily smiled. He used to love unlocking the door with his key. He wanted to do it quietly so he could sneak up to Lucy and give her a kiss, but she would always sense him coming, even if she was busy in the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you call again?” – was always written on her freckled face.
Victor would shrug, bend down, and kiss Lucy on her nose, where the freckles gathered.
“Take off your coat, wash your hands,” she would say sternly, but her eyes were laughing.
Victor groaned softly, returning from warm memories to the wearisome present. He shrugged off his jacket, kicked off his shoes, and then leaned down to neatly arrange them.
He changed his clothes and washed his hands, following his routine. He walked into the kitchen and sat on a stool. Dinner was next, but he wasn’t hungry, and nothing was made.
He could have quickly opened the refrigerator and grabbed a piece of cheese or a slice of ham. Or a pie. And avoid Lucy’s playful scolding:
“Victor! You’re such a child! Wait a bit!”
And she would threaten to swat him with a towel. Victor would dodge playfully. They both laughed…
He glanced around the dark kitchen. He hadn’t turned on the light, yet he saw everything he needed. He opened the fridge. A few eggs. Bread. In the freezer, butter and a frozen chicken.
Victor could cook. He had learned when he lived in a dorm before getting married, but he didn’t want to turn on the light and see the kitchen where the furniture they had picked together with Lucy stood and hung.
Victor shut the door. Leaving without eating, he went to the living room and sank heavily onto the couch. Sleep? Too early. He could lie down, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep and would toss and turn until midnight.
Watch TV? What was there to watch…
Victor sat on the couch, inevitably slipping back into memories.
Their wedding. Their first Christmas. The day before, Victor had brought home a small tree.
“Where are the decorations?” Lucy asked.
“Decorations…”
He hadn’t any decorations. Graduated. Started working and realized he couldn’t buy a flat on an engineer’s salary, so he left. He worked in his field, saved up, bought a place, and renovated it. But he hadn’t gotten around to buying decorations.
Lucy chuckled.
“Just a moment.”
She returned from the kitchen with walnuts and foil. She meticulously wrapped the walnuts in the foil, attached paper clips to them, and soon the little tree was decorated.
“Grandma used to do this, back in the village,” she explained to Victor.
They eventually bought decorations, but a few of those initial walnuts still lay in the cabinet to this day.
Victor glanced at the little vase, just visible in the dark, and suddenly jumped at the sharp sound of a phone ringing.
He froze, thinking he was imagining things! But Lucy’s phone kept ringing, even jumping slightly against the thick glass.
It couldn’t be. No phone could hold a charge for five years! But the ringing continued.
Victor got up abruptly, wincing as his leg protested, and moved to the sideboard. He picked up the phone and, pressing it to his ear, hoarsely asked:
“Hello? Who’s this?”
The ringing stopped. Victor heard no voice on the line. But neither was there silence. Breathing could be heard.
“Lucy?” Victor hesitantly asked, feeling as though he was losing his mind.
And then he heard music, and then the words of an old song:
“…Perhaps, in the next life, when I become a cat…”
Victor pulled the phone away, staring at it. The line repeated over and over, and he couldn’t bring himself to switch off a phone that shouldn’t even be on!
And suddenly – the second surprise of the evening – he heard a cry. If the TV had been on, he would’ve missed the faint meowing. It was a real sound, though very weak, coming from the stairwell.
A kitten was crying.
The phone went silent as the plea for help echoed.
Victor looked at the inert device, gently placed it back in the vase, and headed for the door. There, he finally turned on the light and squinted.
He waited a minute for his eyes to adjust and listened. No sounds from outside the door.
Surely it couldn’t have been his imagination? The ring. The cry. And not just any cry. A desperate plea.
Victor swung the door open.
On the doormat lay a tiny kitten.
Ginger. As freckled as Lucy’s face had been. Like the fiery curls of his wife, struck down at the crossing five years ago.
Victor bent down and picked the little thing up. It opened its tiny mouth and weakly meowed. It was too frail to do more.
Victor froze. The kitten meowed again – pleading for help.
“Oh, I’m such a fool! Just standing here!”
Victor slammed the door shut and dashed to the kitchen. He turned on the light, laid the kitten on the table. Took out a towel and gently placed it on the soft fabric.
What to do? He had never had kittens before, let alone ones so fragile!
Thirsty, he thought. He poured water into a little dish, setting it near the kitten, but it couldn’t stand up on its own. Victor started gently giving it water with a teaspoon. He spilled quite a bit, but managed to get some into its mouth.
What next? Victor grabbed his phone. Thank goodness for the internet!
Half an hour later, he knew what to do.
“You stay here, I’ll be right back,” he told the kitten, gently resting it with the towel in a basin once used for making pies.
Victor dashed to the nearest shop, still open, for milk and pet food. Returning, he checked online again, then began feeding and caring for the little one. He also found out the kitten was a girl who came looking for help.
A little girl!
“Perhaps, in the next life, when I become a cat…,” Victor remembered.
He looked at the kitten, who was appearing much better after his awkward care, and took her to the couch.
“Tomorrow, we’ll visit the vet, do whatever they say to make you well. Give you a bath too. But for now, sleep, Lucy…”
