The Nipped Cat

By Violetta Toth

“Felix!” My human slave sings my name, interrupting my afternoon slumber. I poke my head out from under layers of woolen blankets, reluctant to part from the cocoon I’ve rolled myself into, though my stomach is rumbling from starvation. My nose bobs up and down, searching for salvation, like a life raft filled with castaways in the middle of the ocean. I can smell delicious home-made lasagna baking in the oven… It must be time for brunch.

I hop to my feet and strut down the hallway like a supermodel on a catwalk, even twirling in front of the full-length mirror secured to the wall. My belly drags along the ground, struggling to catch up with the rest of me. I strike a pose, tilt my head seductively to the side, and paw at my long white whiskers. “Work it, baby,” I meow in approval. I point a claw at my reflection and give myself a playful wink. With my sleek black and white fur, I was born dressed in my birthday tuxedo, destined for celebrity status.

I follow the alluring scent to the kitchen, where I’m greeted by a pair of pink felt slippers. The fluffy pompoms bounce as they step toward me. I reflexively give one of the balls a whack, and watch it twirl with wide-eyed wonder.

“No!” scolds my human, as I prepare for a second attack. “Play with this instead.”

A rainbow-colored toy mouse flies through the air, lands on the wooden floor in the next room, and distracts me from my one-sided fencing duel with the slippers. A new opponent.

Though confident in my savvy jousting skills, I inch my paw forward, proceeding with caution. Best not to underestimate its paltry proportions. Extending my front leg hastily, I tap it lightly and await its reaction. Nothing. It continues to sit there and stare at me in silence.

Insulted by its insolence, I extend my razor sharp claws and strike out six times in quick succession. Then I leap forward and capture my combatant in my jaws. Rolling onto my side, I make quick work of teaching it who’s boss, securing it between my front legs whilst simultaneously executing lightning-fast Bruce Lee kicks. The object lets off an aromatic grassy smell of citronella and something known as catnip, the most enticing yet insidious scent I’ve ever experienced.

A mighty roar erupts behind me. I look back, spotting a wall of water swelling up higher and higher, until it tickles the ceiling. The monstrous wave looms above, suspended in mid-air for a few frightening seconds. As it crashes down, water explodes across the wooden floor, thundering toward me.

Toy in mouth, I dash for the couch. My claws click on the wood underfoot as I take majestic strides like a cheetah’s. I vault over other toys, abandoning them to their own defenses, and stretch my front legs out to the safety of the couch.

To my dismay, the brown leather couch transfigures into a colossal pirate ship. My claws perforate the hull, and I pull myself safely aboard.

The stench of seaweed and brine besets me. Sails flap and seagulls caw above. I look to the sky and step backwards, bumping into a menacing looking man. A pirate. He bares his cracked and stained teeth, brandishes a sword, and thrusts it at my face. I stumble. Peering cross-eyed down my nose, I see the sword slice the toy between my lips. I shake my head, grab a hanging rope and swing in around my opponent, wrapping him in cord and immobilizing him.

Staring my captive in the eye, I know what I must do. First, my head bobs rhythmically, and before too long I’m shuffling a sailor jig. All the while, my trophy bobs between my teeth and slaps my nose.

With hoarse cries, more buccaneers appear from every corner and stifle my victory dance. Though I’m a force to be reckoned with, I cannot risk injury of the aesthetic kind.

As they close in on me, I look beyond the sea and spot an island. I race across the plank, wind whooshing past my whiskers as I gain momentum, and soar through the air. Legs splayed out, I glide effortlessly to dry land—a gymnastic dismount worth an Olympic gold medal.

I scan the barren land that surrounds me. No sign of life, except for a solitary tree. Dropping the toy, I take refuge from the unrelenting sun under the shelter of the thick foliage. Something whirs in the distance, though it’s fast approaching. A bumblebee? Perhaps a portable fan? A fan would be great right about now. I purr excitedly at the thought. My eyes close, trying to pick up the cool breeze.

Sniffing airborne particles of dust, I wheeze and splutter. I open my eyes. A large red UFO glides across the dusty land, heading my way, in search of intelligent life or objects of unparalleled beauty. Clearly, I’m the prime target. I crouch, ready to spring into action again. Just before it reaches me, the disk abruptly changes course and heads for the redolent toy still basking in the sun. The UFO flies above the mouse, beams it up, and consumes all traces of its existence. The evocative aroma drifts away on a desert breeze.

The alternate reality fades into a familiar landscape. The UFO mutates into a robotic vacuum. The sea dries up. The pirates have set sail, leaving a cozy couch in their wake.

I take a seat on the plush three-seater, ready to resume my beauty nap. But first, I stretch out my legs, pointing my toes like a prima ballerina. My tongue jutting out, I raise my foreleg and groom my soft fur with one long, moist stroke. The grassy smell of citronella pervades my nasal cavity. Psychedelic shapes form in front of my eyes. I blink, and as I open my eyes, a horde of pirates appear from every angle. I prepare for round two.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When Violetta Toth‘s not twirling around a bachata dancefloor, perfecting her wax-on wax-off technique in a karate dojo, getting lost exploring a foreign land, fine tuning her Spanglish or fostering another fur baby from the local animal shelter, she can be found with her nose in a book reading or writing. Relatively new to the publishing world, she’s keen to write stories of fantasy, drama, horror and inspirational non-fiction.