Bum
Once upon a time,
there was a woman who wanted nothing more in the world
so much as a child of her own.
But the woman had been ill for many years,
and her illness left her barren.
For a long time, she lived quietly and alone.
Every night before bed,
she prayed for a child.
And every night when sleep came,
she would dream of being with her child -
of watching it grow and learn about the world.
One night in her dreams,
a voice spoke, and said,
“Woman! We have heard your prayers.
You will have a child of your own.
But you will not come to know him
in quite the way you expect.”
And when she woke from her dreams,
she saw that what the voice had said was true.
At least, about “not in the way you expect”.
Because when she looked around herself,
and found that she was lying naked under a juniper bush
and that overnight she had been transformed
into beautiful grey tabby cat.
Not knowing what better to do,
the cat who had been a woman started to wander.
She wandered for miles,
until her shoulders ached and her paws bled;
until the cold wind of night whistled through her fur;
until the snow began to fall.
And finally, with no strength left to go on,
the cat decided to lie down in a soft snowbank
and let sleep take her away.
But just at that moment,
she saw a light in the distance,
and following that light,
she came to house
nestled into the western slope of a great hill.
And behind the house
she found a dryer vent
blowing clean, warm air.
The cat crawled inside the vent,
and, safe at last, sleep came,
and she dreamed of being with her child -
of watching it grow and learn about the world.
When the cat woke in the morning
and explored the outside of the house,
she came upon a man carrying firewood in through the front door.
He left the door open wide,
so she walked on into the house without asking permission,
and there,
reading in front of the fire,
was - she was sure of it -
her boy.
He was eight years old,
with a crooked grin,
a head full of curly hair
and a prominent nose,
and she loved him in an instant.
Seeing no reason to waste time,
the cat hopped up onto her boy's lap and started to purr.
After that, the two were rarely apart.
The cat followed her boy everywhere.
She danced with the tip of a string for his amusement.
She played Battle Cat to his He-Man action figures.
She spent entire afternoons snuggled against his hip
while he read.
The cat watched her boy grow
and learn about the world.
And every night after sleep came for him,
she would wash his whole head with her tongue
until his hair stood straight up in the air.
And then she would curl up on his chest
to sit guard.
For three years, the cat was happier than she had ever been.
Then one day the cat wandered into her boy’s room
expecting to find him drawing,
or playing with G.I. Joes.
But where her boy should have been
was an ugly, fearsome, sharp-toothed ogre,
lying in wait for her boy.
Lying in wait to grind his bones for soup.
And with a yowl,
the cat leaped onto the ogre’s legs.
Her front claws dug into its flesh,
holding on tight
as she crawled up its great ugly body.
Her back claws raked bloody trails
down the ogre's putrid skin.
And her teeth reached for its neck.
The ogre howled in rage,
and grabbing the cat by her scruff,
it flung her out of the boy’s bedroom.
The ogre slammed the door,
and it was then that the cat heard the sound of her boy sobbing
inside the bedroom,
and she knew that something terrible had happened.
The doctors told the boy
that his cat’s illness had found its way into her brain.
They told him there was no cure,
and that if she came home with him,
what had happened that day might happen again.
That night when sleep came for her boy,
the cat washed his whole head
until his hair stood straight up,
and she curled up on his chest
to sit guard.
A week later,
the ogre came again,
and the doctors again asked the bleeding boy
if he wanted the cat to come home with him.
That night
when sleep came for her,
alone in her cage,
the cat dreamed of her boy,
and never woke up.
Over the years,
her boy grew
and learned about the world
until he was a man.
And tonight,
after he has walked off this stage and biked home -
when he is lying still and quiet in his bed -
he will run the tips of his fingers
along the scars his cat left on his skin,
here,
and here,
and here.
But he won’t remember the pain of her claws in his flesh.
He will remember that her tongue in his hair
felt like love.
And when sleep comes,
he will dream of his cat.
Once upon a time,
there was a woman who wanted nothing more in the world
so much as a child of her own.
But the woman had been ill for many years,
and her illness left her barren.
For a long time, she lived quietly and alone.
Every night before bed,
she prayed for a child.
And every night when sleep came,
she would dream of being with her child -
of watching it grow and learn about the world.
One night in her dreams,
a voice spoke, and said,
“Woman! We have heard your prayers.
You will have a child of your own.
But you will not come to know him
in quite the way you expect.”
And when she woke from her dreams,
she saw that what the voice had said was true.
At least, about “not in the way you expect”.
Because when she looked around herself,
and found that she was lying naked under a juniper bush
and that overnight she had been transformed
into beautiful grey tabby cat.
Not knowing what better to do,
the cat who had been a woman started to wander.
She wandered for miles,
until her shoulders ached and her paws bled;
until the cold wind of night whistled through her fur;
until the snow began to fall.
And finally, with no strength left to go on,
the cat decided to lie down in a soft snowbank
and let sleep take her away.
But just at that moment,
she saw a light in the distance,
and following that light,
she came to house
nestled into the western slope of a great hill.
And behind the house
she found a dryer vent
blowing clean, warm air.
The cat crawled inside the vent,
and, safe at last, sleep came,
and she dreamed of being with her child -
of watching it grow and learn about the world.
When the cat woke in the morning
and explored the outside of the house,
she came upon a man carrying firewood in through the front door.
He left the door open wide,
so she walked on into the house without asking permission,
and there,
reading in front of the fire,
was - she was sure of it -
her boy.
He was eight years old,
with a crooked grin,
a head full of curly hair
and a prominent nose,
and she loved him in an instant.
Seeing no reason to waste time,
the cat hopped up onto her boy's lap and started to purr.
After that, the two were rarely apart.
The cat followed her boy everywhere.
She danced with the tip of a string for his amusement.
She played Battle Cat to his He-Man action figures.
She spent entire afternoons snuggled against his hip
while he read.
The cat watched her boy grow
and learn about the world.
And every night after sleep came for him,
she would wash his whole head with her tongue
until his hair stood straight up in the air.
And then she would curl up on his chest
to sit guard.
For three years, the cat was happier than she had ever been.
Then one day the cat wandered into her boy’s room
expecting to find him drawing,
or playing with G.I. Joes.
But where her boy should have been
was an ugly, fearsome, sharp-toothed ogre,
lying in wait for her boy.
Lying in wait to grind his bones for soup.
And with a yowl,
the cat leaped onto the ogre’s legs.
Her front claws dug into its flesh,
holding on tight
as she crawled up its great ugly body.
Her back claws raked bloody trails
down the ogre's putrid skin.
And her teeth reached for its neck.
The ogre howled in rage,
and grabbing the cat by her scruff,
it flung her out of the boy’s bedroom.
The ogre slammed the door,
and it was then that the cat heard the sound of her boy sobbing
inside the bedroom,
and she knew that something terrible had happened.
The doctors told the boy
that his cat’s illness had found its way into her brain.
They told him there was no cure,
and that if she came home with him,
what had happened that day might happen again.
That night when sleep came for her boy,
the cat washed his whole head
until his hair stood straight up,
and she curled up on his chest
to sit guard.
A week later,
the ogre came again,
and the doctors again asked the bleeding boy
if he wanted the cat to come home with him.
That night
when sleep came for her,
alone in her cage,
the cat dreamed of her boy,
and never woke up.
Over the years,
her boy grew
and learned about the world
until he was a man.
And tonight,
after he has walked off this stage and biked home -
when he is lying still and quiet in his bed -
he will run the tips of his fingers
along the scars his cat left on his skin,
here,
and here,
and here.
But he won’t remember the pain of her claws in his flesh.
He will remember that her tongue in his hair
felt like love.
And when sleep comes,
he will dream of his cat.
wrubrecht@gmail.com
