A Small Cage
The first thing I can
remember from my short lifetime was at the age of just about three months,I was gently shoved in a small cage and
taken on a long ride from home. I put up an indignant fuss in my little cage,
and the young boy couldn’t stand it. He
kept screaming something like, “take him back. I want to turn around and take
him back!” In fact, when the car stopped moving, and we went inside the house,
I ran and hid the minute my cage was opened.
I gave the boy and his family quite a small panic; they thought that I
had raced out the front door, and tried to go back home to my mother. In fact, I think it was that little prank
that earned me the name “Mazik (Mazzie, for short),” literally meaning “cute
little devil,” in the family’s Hebrew vernacular.
From that time on,
my world, as I knew it, consisted of this house. Inside the house lived four
humans: a young boy, a young girl, a mother and a father. During my early years,
each of the four humans treated me well. I was never without a warm bed, food,
water, or attention, and I loved the
sunny days when I could sit for hours in front of a window and sunbathe. I grew
accustomed to each human and became extremely comfortable with my simple life.
After a few years
however, the girl left. I could tell by
the suitcases stuffed with clothes, shoes, hair goop, and her favorite stuffed
animals, that she was not coming back. Despite my constant pleas, I woke up the
next day to see her room empty. Days and months went by with no trace of her.
At a few points, I thought she came back. A girl would pass in and out of the
house for weeks on end, but she did not look like the one I used to know.
Eventually, life went back to normal. I adjusted and found warmth and kindness
through the other three.
A few years later,
the boy left. As soon as the suitcases
filled the house I knew what was going on. The boy who always gave me the most
attention was leaving me. He was taking his guitar, his favorite electronic
toys, even the posters from the room where we slept. At this point ,I knew pleading would do no
good. Instead, I simply hid under his bed and refused to say goodbye. The boy
would return on occasion, but he was always too busy to pay attention to me. I
learned , once again, to adjust to my new life with only the mother and father.
Life moved on uneventfully until one fateful afternoon that brought me where I
am today.
The
day started like any Friday morning. The father woke up and I followed him
downstairs. Outside, the faint patter of cold rain could be heard and loud
claps of thunder startled me. I was too hungry, however, to worry about
anything but the food being poured into my bowl. After I ate, I made my way
back upstairs and crawled back into my warm bed. I feel back into a deep sleep
and never woke up.
The
next thing I knew, I was floating above the house. I heard the loud screech of
sirens and the mother screaming to a man in a heavy suit. “Please get my cat,
he is still inside” she yelled as she cried. The man went into the charred
house and came out minutes later with my body. The man promised the mother that
I passed away painlessly and she began to cry harder. I then heard her call the
father who showed up at the house twenty minutes later. The street was filled
with people, gazing in horror at the burning house, and he had to make his way
through the crowd to get to the mother. Together, they called their son.
I
then saw the boy. He was sleeping soundly in his bed when his phone rang and
woke him up. “WHAT!?” he screamed. “He is gone?? How did it happen? Are you
okay?” Tears started to form in the boy’s eyes. The conversation between the
boy and his parents lasted for what
seemed like hours. Afterwards, he frantically dialed a number over and over. A
girl’s voice finally came on the other line. “Julie, there was an accident at
home. Our house is gone, Mazik died,” said the boy. “I know its unreal; I can’t
believe it.”
The
explosion tossed contents from the house all over the backyard. Afterwards,
boards were nailed to cover the windows, and the once blue-and-white paint had
turned to a deep black. The mother and father rebuilt their house and
eventually replaced all of their possessions. They refused, however, to replace
me.
A year later, the
guy and girl both moved into their new home. Although they were gone for a
majority of the day, they would always come back at night. The reunited family
reminded me of the first few years of my life, before the girl and boy left me.
I remained floating above until one day they decided they were ready for
another cat.
I felt a human
hand pushing me from behind. Everything was black and I did not remember
leaving from above the house. Slowly, I attempted to open my eyes. I realized I
was sleeping on a warm carpet. As I
looked around I saw the mother, father, boy, and girl standing over me. In
front of me was another small cage.
David Marder 2006
In loving memory of our Mazik.
