Book about a Cat (part 1)
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The light of the sun was angling down the second-floor rooms, falling in long stripes of light through the classroom windows, painting everything in its path with a golden sea, touched with amber, the color that seemed to announce the approaching end of afternoon, and, more importantly, the end of classes for the day. Most students had already gone home in a hurry, or to their club activities, while others lingered noisily in groups by the lockers.
I was standing near a window with my bag already on my back, watching a stray cat lazily chase a beetle across the courtyard. Once it was out of view, I remembered that I should’ve been making my way to the exit ages ago, but then I saw a head peeking around the classroom door. The brownish-red eyes wandered around the room, as if afraid to enter it. Then the pair of eyes found mine, the face suddenly changing to a stern, grumpy look as she walked over to me.
🐾 "Hey. You're done, right?" Before I could answer, she continued.
🐾 "Come with me. Behind the agricultural building. There's... something weird going on by the old tool shed. You're going to help me check it."
🦉 "Sigh, sure, if it is something I can help with, 🐾."
She let out a small, sharp huff through her nose and adjusted her grip on the strap of her bag. She seemed satisfied that I was not arguing back or asking annoying questions, and without saying anything else, led the way.
I was led by her down the stairs, past home economics, where something smelled like burning, and out through the side exit toward the back of the school grounds. The air out here smelled like damp earth, old lumber, and freshly cut grass. It felt nice after being inside a classroom all day.
The agricultural building was mostly quiet this time of day, being a more ’rustic’ place compared to the rest of the school. Not many people came here besides the club members responsible for keeping it. I walked, keeping up with 🐾’s brisk pace, weaving past some terracotta flower pots and around the corner of a weathered wooden tool shed.
Right near the back wall, where the shade was thickest and a patch of wild clover grew, 🐾 stopped abruptly, holding out one hand behind her without looking back to tell me to halt.
🐾 (pointing towards a place near the ground, crouching)
🐾 "Right there. It's not moving."
I crouched down near her to have a look, but she was in the way and we bumped shoulders.
🐾 "Watch it." She jerked and muttered, crossing her arms to look defensive.
🐾 "Just... look at the thing. In the middle."
Tucked deep in the shadow of the metal drum was a small, upside-down plastic bucket. Sticking out from underneath the rim was a single, overly fluffy orange tail, swishing every few seconds, but otherwise attached to absolutely nothing visible. It didn't look like a normal cat tail; it was entirely too puffy, like a small plush toy someone crammed under there by accident.
🦉 ‘’What is this, a toy? Or is that really…’’ I tried to reach an arm to touch it.
🐾 "Wait, idiot! Don't just grab it!" She grabbed my sleeve and yoinked it back just as one of my fingers brushed against the bucket slightly.
🐾 "Don’t just touch it without a plan, stupid. What if it's wild? Maybe this area is its turf."
The orange tail swished slowly this time, as if annoyed by our whispering. 🐾 eyed the bucket warily, then looked around until she found a dry twig lying nearby, and used her foot to nudge it towards me.
🦉 ‘’Okay… I will use this stick instead.’’
She watched from a distance in a defensive position, as if prepared for something to lunge at her while I poked the bucket with the stick.
🐾 "Careful," she murmured, her voice tense. "Don't poke it too hard."
With a dry scrape against the dirt, the bucket rolled over. For a second, there was tense silence, then a pair of big, wide green eyes blinked sleepily from beneath the bucket. They belonged to an orange creature so excessively fluffy that it seemed almost more fur than cat.
It was a very young kitten, which looked more like a rolling ball of yarn with paws completely hidden underneath it. It let out a squeaky meow that sounded more like a leaky pipe than a cat, and then fell right back to sleep on its side, with its massive tail twitching once more.
🦉 "...It's just a ball of fur." 🐾 and I stared down at it, blinking. Her rigid posture became unshielded bewilderment as she moved closer to have a better look at it.
🦉 "Is this normal? I have never seen one this fluffy, it's like a tangerine with legs. If it tried to run, it would probably just roll down the hill like a ball."
🐾 leaned closer as we peered at the cat hidden between the shed and wall, kneeling right beside me in the dirt and forgetting to keep her distance. A mild look entered her eyes as she tried to reach out a finger to gently poke the middle of its coat, as if testing if it was actually solid or just hair.
🐾 "Normal cats aren’t this round." She murmured with a defensive tone about the creature.
🐾 "It must be eating something weird. Or maybe it's just stuffed with cotton."
She glanced at me sideways for a second before looking back down, her voice dropping slightly.
🐾 ‘’Well... we can't just leave it here by the dirt. What if a crow tries to carry it off thinking it's a piece of fruit?"
🦉 "We have to get it out somehow. How did it even fit there in the first place?’’
She shook her head, still staring down at the orange sphere wedged between the dirt and the metal drum.
🐾 "I don't know, maybe it squeezed in when it was flat, and then puffed up like a sponge the second it stopped moving."
She looked around the immediate area, her eyes darting over the weeds, gravel, and base of the shed before looking back at me. She cleared her throat softly, looking slightly awkward as she realized she was about to ask for something unreasonable.
🐾 "Well... we can't leave it. It's obviously too dumb to survive out here by itself."
She reached down and gently slid her hands under the thick, warm fur, trying to scoop the little kitten ball without dropping it. It shifted, meowed, and melted on her palms like dough.
Pulling it up awkwardly, 🐾 held it out at arm’s length as if it might detonate, and, with a deadpan expression, looked at me and said:
🐾 "Here, hold your bag open. We’re taking it.’’
🦉 "W-wait, are you sure about this?’’ I said hesitantly, but still moved to organize my bag so the cat would fit there comfortably. "It’s the third one this month, and unlike the other strays, this one is way too young… We are not the parents of a family of cats, you know?’’
🐾 "F-family? Shut up, stupid! Who said anything about a family?....It's just... a stray. That we found. Temporarily." She stubbornly refused to look at me, staring down at the kitten as it purred while she held it close to her chest, pretending to concentrate on the cat’s oversized ears.
🦉 "At any rate, we have to give it a name. We can’t keep calling it round names.’’
After a few seconds of silence, she cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, still avoiding eye contact.
🐾 ‘’As for a name..." She muttered, narrowing her eyes at it. "It's round. And orange. And it looks like a piece of fruit that rolled under the couch."
She then paused, thought hard, and let out a gasp of realization, certainty settling over her smiling face.
🐾 "Mikan. We're calling it Mikan." She nudged the kitten's head gently with a finger, smiling at it. Then she turned on her heels and marched back towards the school building with the ball of fluff, I mean, Mikan, clutched against her school uniform.
🦉 "Ohh, that’s a good and fitting name, Mikan as in the fruit— wait! Don’t go away all of a sudden!’’ I chased after her with a little dash since 🐾 walked so briskly.
🐾 "Hurry up, moron, we need to find some milk, and you're walking too slow."
🦉 "Don’t just walk with Mikan out in the open like that! Someone from the disciplinary committee will yell at us if they see us carrying and feeding strays on campus. Look, I have some leftover milk in my lunch bag." I opened my bag and took out a bottle half full of milk.
🦉 "I was going to drink it on the way home, but…’’ I held it out to her. "Maybe Mikan can drink it from the cap or something."
She looked at me in mild disbelief, then at Mikan, who was currently dead asleep in her arms, then back at me.
🐾 "Who drinks milk on the way home? Besides, we have priorities, dummy.’’
Even though she complained, she let out a reluctant huff and stopped for me to catch up to her, walking slower.
🐾 "Well... if you already have it, hand it over. Not here, though, let’s go near the dorms.’’
Holding Mikan in the air, I opened my bag, where I had arranged some PE clothes for her to lie down comfortably. Leaving the zipper partially open, we headed towards the quieter path that led to the back of the girls’ dorms, where a large, shady oak tree dropped a pool of cool shadow over the grass.
I plopped down right against the trunk, crossing my legs, and 🐾 did the same, setting Mikan carefully in her lap like a fragile package and feeding it the milk. She watched contentedly, humming to herself while I kept her company. She then shifted closer after side-eyeing me a few times and broke the silence.
🐾 "So…" she said, her voice dropping to a conversational tone. "What are you even doing later? You don't have club stuff, do you?"
What does she mean by that? She knows I don't do club stuff.
🦉 "You know I don't. I was thinking of going straight home, but I guess I have new plans now." She let out a satisfied hmph at my answer.
🐾 "Good." Her voice dropped just a fraction softer as she watched Mikan frantically lick the last white smear from the bottom of the plastic cap.
🐾 "You didn't have any real plans anyway. Going straight home and doing nothing doesn't count as a plan." She pulled her knees up a little higher, resting her chin on her arms.
The afternoon breeze rustled the oak leaves above us, filtering the sunlight into dappled, golden patches across the grass. For a little while, neither of us said anything, the silence between us feeling easy and unhurried. Without moving her head, she glanced sideways at me out of the corner of her eye, making sure I wasn't thinking about sneaking off.
And just like that, time seemed to stand still for a moment as we shared that little moment, but eventually, we had to get up and go back to our dorms because of curfew. I helped her smuggle the cat to her room under the pretense of helping her carry her bag because it was heavy with too many books, and somehow the supervisor bought it. And with a certain reluctance, we parted ways, agreeing to meet back in the morning to find ways to better take care of Mikan.