SCAREDY CAT

by Helen Lewisons
(San Francisco, Ca.)

Maggie is squatting on her small haunches in the doorway which leads to the deck.

The door is open about five or six inches. Her head is extended out perhaps an inch. The fascination is a band of ravens; large wings spread dashing back and forth, no doubt foraging for food or just flying about where the wind currents take them. Whoosh, whoosh, caw, caw –bleat, bleat – bleat is probably not the right word but what do you call the sound: claw, claw?

Maggie has her own private viewing area. I think how lucky she is to have live television, no 3-D – but living, breathing, flapping wings and the sounds of caw, caw. She doesn’t venture out on the deck except for short periods of time. Basically, she’s a cowardly cat; the birds might swoop too low and she would have a panic attack. She knows her weakness.

Some cats just go out and catch mice, birds or whatever moves. They are the true carnivores of nature. My last cat, Finian, did go out but he only watched his fellow felines do the deed. He always had a bored expression while glancing at a dead bird or some prey another cat caught. The look on his face was pure disdain and he would walk grandly away.

Maggie on the other hand literally washes her hands (paws) of such unseemly acts; a true homebody who ventures out on the deck to peruse nature or perhaps watch a small spider crawling along the wall. One she caught a moth but let it go. I know she felt ashamed of this ignoble act.

Yes, I have a very civilized cat; an observer yes, a warrior no. Perhaps she is a bit timid but truly a fine upstanding non-aggressive member of feline society.

Oh incidentally, Commander, the cat next door, just peered around to greet Maggie. He is sitting on the railing of his deck. Maggie is looking into space ignoring his presence. However, I notice she gives Commander a brief look and turns away. What a snob I think, can’t she even say hello. He keeps looking wistfully at Maggie’s shapely form – dark brown hair, gold highlights, large green eyes but she continues to disregard him completely wandering back into the house.

I go out and walk over to Commander – he is quite pleasant. I pet him, scratch him behind his ears and he looks perturbed. If he could talk or if I had the ability to read minds, I know he would be saying “What’s with your cat? I’m a nice guy but why is she so standoffish?” I nod my head and answer the unspoken question. She has issues, a lot of issues but don’t take it personally. She has yet to get in touch with her inner cat. Maybe in time she’ll get in touch with her feelings. Everybody is so self absorbed. Maggie might come around but it’s her loss. She doesn’t recognize a cool cat when she sees one.