“Look, man, if I die, don’t forget to feed the cat,” Bob said as he pulled himself up onto the ledge. He looked down at me, face earnest, as if his cat was the most important thing in the world. I had expected him to confess his love for some broad, then lament about what little time he had spent with her, how he wished he could have kissed her good bye, etc. etc, the kind of stuff that turns on the waterworks in a movie theatre. But no, Bob was Bob to the end: uninterested in anybody’s welfare, beyond that of his feline companion. “Okay?”
“Is that all?” I asked, honestly surprised. He had always seemed lacking in depth, but I thought it was an act that he would drop the moment things got serious. I should have known from experience that it wasn’t going to happen, that Bob Atalov wasn’t a fountain of sagacity beneath his pasty exterior. “You’re giving me your cat?” I hoisted myself up beside him, then blew air on my fingers, wondering why I hadn’t brought gloves.
“Of course,” he assured me. I knew then that he had misunderstood my concerns. In Bob’s eyes, I was asking to make sure he truly thought I was worthy of such an honour. Reality was, I didn’t want his cat; two kids and a job were enough to take up my time. “It says so in my will, cushioned between legal formalities and nonsense.”
I sighed. “Bob, I don’t have the time for a cat. When I’m not at work, I’m chasing after my two-year-old and scaring prospective sons-in-law. And when I’m not doing that, I’m risking death for liberty, honour, all that bosh and our god—F—agh!” I was impassioned and thus, gesticulating wildly. Room is limited on a fifth-story window ledge. My hand met the cold, unforgiving glass and bounced off with a musical thunk. I swore. “Our god-forsaken government. Oh, my hand!”
He shrugged and pulled out the knife, then began to cut a hole in the window. I marvelled at its neatness while caressing my afflicted fingers. “You’ll find the time,” Bob stated simply, slipping through, into the building. A moment later, I heard an ominous bang and quickly followed.
The cat was a long-haired calico with philosophical eyes and a fondness for my bed. Bob’s neatly penned handbook did not mention a name, but soon after I brought him home, I found that he answered to Konstantin. It is most odd to address a cat using one’s own name, particularly when running around the house with a bowl of fish and calling out enticements sprinkled with the occasional clicking of tongue. My daughter Maddy, who suffers from being a teenager, thought I was crazy until Konstantin came rushing out from under the sofa, meowing happily. Erin, meanwhile, was happy just to stare at the two of us, uttering charming phrases and smashing her lunch.
“Papa! Kitty, Papa!” she cried, pointing to the cat with a small, chubby finger. It was, like the rest of her, covered in pasta sauce, which made the darling look slightly gruesome. I was reminded of the state Bob was in, before the hasty quacks arrived with a stretcher.
“Brilliant observation, Erin,” I said. I was always encouraging intellectual development in my daughters, having remarkably few people to talk to with my packed schedule. Soon enough, we would be discussing the state of the government and the need for the intervention of a true genius, one with ideas and a rich control of language. Well, that’s only if Erin remains interested in life. “Didn’t you notice the cat, Maddy?”
Maddy sighed, the way she always does when I talk to her. She thinks I have nothing important to say and that I’m always ruining her chances of ever finding true love. I doubt that it ever occurred to her that true love looks beyond his father-in-law’s pants, but never mentioned it because her objections to my leather pants were part of the fun.
“Of course I noticed it, Dad. I’m not two years old, I don’t need to state the obvious.” She continued, her tone conveying some interest, “Is it ours?” As mentioned before, I certainly didn’t have the time for a cat, so Maddy presumed that she would never have one. She was welcome to get one after moving out, but the idea of her living away from her doting father had not occurred to her.
“No,” answered I. I hoped to sound grim, like I was pronouncing a death sentence, but unfortunately, did not have enough control over my voice to do it. I could always recall certain experiences to aid this, but my stomach was full and I didn’t fancy expelling its contents. “It’s Bob’s.”
“What happened to him?” She sounded disapproving. Maddy never approved of anything Bob did, her hatred vehement to the point that I wanted to defend him. I suppose she thought he had stuck his head in a blender or stabbed himself in the chest, or something similarly ridiculous.
“Collapsed lung, amongst other things,” I took off my glasses and wiped the spaghetti off with a tissue. Erin had become a bit too playful. “They’ve knocked him about rather thoroughly, poor fellow.”
She rolled her eyes while attacking Erin’s face with a moist towelette. The effect of this was dulled by the giggles echoing through the house. “So now we have a cat?” She gave Konstantin a look that would melt even the chilliest heart. “He’s so cute!” Now, I knew how she managed to attract every teenage male within four kilometres of her current position. All I had to do now was find out who taught her how to do it, so I could throttle them for making my job so difficult.
“Merr?” Konstantin asked, taking a step back. He left his food half-finished, a terrible sign, according to Bob’s guide. A moment later, I would find him nestled in my underwear drawer, but at that time I was just trying to take it in. The one thing Bob valued the most in his life was a bloody cat, and that cat was now in my possession. And that meant I was obligated to take it. Something told me I was really in for it.