written by peter cole rae
The cat went missing. Pookie went missing. While I was moving groceries from the car to the kitchen counter, I accidentally left the front door open and the furball must’ve made a run for it. And because Gwen was prone to crying and screaming and prolonged depression when bad things happened—especially to her cat—I walked around the neighborhood with an open can of wet cat food looking for that fat grey cat and its damn pink collar. I searched the limbs of every tree, crawled through a few thick bushes, and even asked our neighbors if any of them had seen Pookie. But nope, no trace of her. So after an hour, I went back home and found Gwen’s car in the driveway.
Inside, Gwen called out to me, asking if I had seen Pookie. Apparently she bought Pookie Halloween outfit and wanted to see if Pookie’s large back hips would fit into it. Instead of telling Gwen the truth, I said I hadn’t seen Pookie all day and suggested that she was probably hiding in the basement crawlspace, her usual spot when it was just me and her in the house.
Gwen asked why I was carrying a can of wet cat food, so again I lied. I told her I was hoping to get closer to Pookie, grow our relationship in some way, and that the food was meant to coax her out of hiding. Gwen hugged me and said that was very, very nice of me. Then she put the Halloween outfit on the kitchen counter and said she could always have Pookie try it on later. I told Gwen that that was a great idea.
Two days passed and there was no sign of Pookie. Gwen told me to take a flashlight and work my way through the dank musty basement crawlspace to see if Pookie was alright. I didn’t argue. I went down there and felt very stupid for looking for a cat that I knew wasn’t there. When I came back upstairs, Gwen asked if I had seen her. I smiled and said yep, that Pookie was having a nap in the crawlspace, and that because I didn’t want to bother her, I just let her rest. Gwen was instantly relieved.
Two more days passed and Gwen still had not seen Pookie. Do you think she’s okay down in that crawlspace, Gwen asked. I told her that I was sure Pookie was fine and went back to reading my book. But Gwen wouldn’t let it go. She said that she should probably go check on Pookie herself to make sure she was alright. I put my book down and told Gwen that that was a great idea, and that I would get her the flashlight. I quickly went to the closet, took the batteries out of the flashlight, and put them back in the wrong way before handing it to Gwen. She tried to turn it on, but it didn’t work. I took the flashlight back, unscrewed the top, and told her the batteries were probably dead, and that I would go to the store to get new ones. I went to the store and “forgot” to buy new batteries.
A day later one of the neighbors I had spoken to about Pookie came to the door when both Gwen and I were home. His name was Bill and he was incapable of minding his own fucking business. He knocked on the door and thank God I was the one to answer it. He said he had seen Pookie running through his yard yesterday, hanging out with a dirty orange stray, probably a male. I thanked him for the information and asked if I could stop by that later on.
That night Bill and I drank wine on his back patio and waited for Pookie and her boyfriend to show up. I didn’t want to chat with Bill but he wouldn’t keep quiet. He kept trying to engage me in a conversation about sports, but wasn’t taking the hint that I didn’t watch any sports. To be nice, I tried to engage him in a conversation about politics, but it was clear that he didn’t have more than a handful of brain cells between his ears. But thankfully, after about half an hour, there was a rustling in the bushes in the corner of Bill’s yard. My flashlight caught Pookie and her filthy boyfriend in the process of assuming a filthy position. The cats were shocked by the bright light, but they didn’t run. They assessed whether or not I was a threat. I stood up slowly, very, very slowly, and made the kissy-kissy noises that Gwen used to call Pookie into her lap. Pookie recognized the sounds. She took a step towards me, and then another one, and then another one, all while her little boyfriend just hung back, allowing Pookie to make her way to my arms. And that’s when Bill popped out of his chair, leaped at Pookie, and tried to grab her. He didn’t, of course. He wasn’t even fucking close. And Pookie and her boyfriend ran away at lightning speed. Bill apologized and said I was free to visit his yard whenever I wanted to until Pookie was safe.
The next morning, Gwen looked awfully sad as she got ready for work. She told me that Pookie wasn’t in the basement last night, and that she might have run away. I pretended to be really surprised by this information and told Gwen that I would make signs and hang them up all over the neighborhood. She nodded slowly, kissed me on the cheek and went to work. I didn’t even consider making those signs.
Instead I went back over to Bill’s house while he was at work and sit on his back patio, alone, and waited for Pookie. Hours passed, but I didn’t mind. I had my book to keep me company. It was a very, very good book in fact. All of the characters lived in Los Angeles and their lives were interconnected in the strangest of ways. The story was gripping and suspenseful, and when I finished it, hours later, I felt such a deep sense of sadness that it was over. So I went back home and got another book and brought it to over to Bill’s backyard, and began reading it. And again, quite the exceptional reading experience. After one of the chapters ended, I sighed and looked around, and realized that it wasn’t the books that were amazing, it was Bill’s backyard. His backyard was a peaceful and quiet sanctuary when he wasn’t in it. It was filled with the most wonderful flowers that, if you took the time to smell them, produced the most wonderful scents. Into the calm autumn winds, I smiled, and went back to my reading—for another hour that is, because suddenly there came a rustling in the bushes at the corner of Bill’s yard.
I put my book down and looked, and sure enough, Pookie came stumbling out. She was alone, finished with her boyfriend, and occupied with bathing herself as nonchalantly as can be in the middle of Bill’s backyard. Again I made the kissy-kissy noises and Pookie’s ears perked up. She looked at me, and without a second’s hesitation, raced towards me, climbed up my khakis, and took a seat right in my lap. She rubbed her head against my hand, begging me to let my open palm fall across the plush fur at the back of her neck. She began to purr and it was clear that she was quite finished with her escapades and was ready to go home. Back to her warm bed, back to her wet cat food, back to her organic catnip, and back to Gwen. I looked down at Pookie and then across Bill’s beautiful backyard and thought no way I’m giving up this yard for you.
I pushed Pookie off of me and for a moment she looked at me very confused. Then I made these terrifying hissing noises that scared Pookie so much that her tail got big and her eyes went wide. I stood up and slapped my book against my thigh and told Pookie to get lost. And she did. She ran away, back into the bushes, and who knows where else. And after having made sure no one saw what I did, I went back to my book, and what a wonderful reading experience it was.
When Bill came home, I left his yard and I said that unfortunately I hadn’t seen Pookie, but that I would like to try again tomorrow. Bill shared his condolences and said that I was more than welcome to sit in his backyard and wait for Pookie whenever I pleased. I thanked him, and smiled, knowing damn well that I would only be doing so when he was away at work.
Later that night I told Gwen that Bill told me that he had seen Pookie in his yard. Gwen threw her arms around me and started crying tears of joy. I’m just so happy to hear that she’s alright, Gwen said. I told her that since I had some vacation time, I would use it to sit in Bill’s backyard every day until Pookie was home safe. That since Pookie is family, it was the very least I could do. Gwen kissed me long and hard, a kiss unlike any we’ve had since before we got married.
The next morning I took a chilled box of wine and a stack of books over to Bill’s backyard when he wasn’t home and had the time of my life. The hours flew by—page after page, chapter after chapter. It was without a doubt the best time in a long time. And then, out of nowhere, Pookie shows up. At first I just ignore her and continue reading, but then, she keeps getting closer and closer and closer. Until she was brushing up against my book and preventing me from reading any further. So I picked her up, take her back to the bushes, and say shoo shoo. And she left, for a little while. But she wasn’t gone long. She came back and sat on my lap and begged for me to pet her. I hissed and screamed and made a big commotion so that she would leave again.
But that time, Pookie didn’t budge. She just looked at me curiously, like I was nothing more than a simpleton without the first clue on how to be decent human being. I never noticed the subtle nuances in Pookie’s facial expressions before that moment, but I’m being honest, I’m telling you what I saw.
So I stopped hissing and acting like a savage and went back to reading my book. Pookie returned to my lap and a few minutes later she had curled herself into a cat donut, and fell fast asleep. Her deep peaceful slumber consumed the entire afternoon, the rise and fall of her body between breaths added a certain rhythm to the pages of my book.
I ended up staying at Bill’s longer than I expected, partly because of the wine, and partly because I didn’t want to disturb Pookie. And I was taken by complete surprise when Gwen, home from work, came walking around the side of Bill’s house.
She spotted me and Pookie sitting there, chilling, and ran over immediately. Tears filled her eyes. You found her, you found her, Gwen shouted. And she took Pookie into her arms and squeezed Pookie so tight that I thought the poor cat might suffocate.
Then Gwen took me into her arms and told me that she loved me, and that I was the best husband in the entire world. And when she kissed me, I felt, deep down in my bones, that this woman was more than I deserved in this lifetime. And I believe, something inside of me changed that afternoon. A softness deep in my loins that I didn’t know was there, or didn’t remember was there, seemed to come awake, and that softness felt much like Pookie’s soft grey fur.
peter cole rae 