A Whimsical Friendship

I have never liked people. I could never understand their addiction to one another, their desire to always stick together, pour salty water from their eyes when someone leaves them, as if they are afraid of being alone. And yet, they are considered at the top of the food chain. How many of my species suffered from their hands! Even I was hurt numerous times by stupid boys getting some strange satisfaction from damaging creatures that are weaker. Yes, of course, I also sometimes like to play with mice that are surely weaker than me, but I hunt them for basic survival purposes. I can play with my food if I wish. But they do that just for fun. That I can’t get. Yet the worst thing about people is that they have this irritating addiction toward animals, and they tend to show it by touching our fur or taking us in their hands and bringing their faces closer to us, saying something unreasonable in a stupid voice. They like doing it to their little versions, but we are cats, not those crying, furless creatures that smell like poop and milk. However, people forget that being smaller doesn’t make us all children. For example, I am concerned already about a grown-up cat, and it is so humiliating when people catch you in the street and perform their beloved ritual called “love”. The only situation when I can handle that is when I am properly fed afterwards. It was for the same purpose that once, about three winters ago, I came up to an old-looking house in the middle of the woods. The smell of a freshly baked meat reached my nose even through the downpour that I had been wandering through for a long time, so I followed it without hesitation. The house I came up to looked like a place where some old ladies, who are unable to refuse an animal in a shelter, live, so I thought that I’d be fed and warmed up there. I went up onto the porch — my attention was caught by the dried plants hanging from the ceiling, whose smell broke through even the resinous scent of the rain. After examining the territory, I started scratching at the door. I knew it would not be easy to catch anyone’s attention inside the house, as the rain was so loud. Yet, in a couple of minutes, I felt steps nearing the front door. And she came out: a beautiful woman, about 20 or 25 years old… I could never understand how people count their years. She had long dark hair that she braided — now I know that she makes that with her hair every time she cooks those strange soups. She can cook really tasty food; I like the way she serves me meat and fish more than anything in this world, but sometimes she cooks those strange dishes that have an unpleasant color and a disgusting smell. However, I must mention that she never tries any of them; she pours those into small bottles and keeps them in a dark closet, the door to which is hidden under the carpet in her living room. But I guess every human has their own peculiarities. I can still remember that day when she came out to get some of her dried herbs. In another situation, I would have already entered the house without even caring about the owner’s opinion. Still, I was astonished by her beauty for a moment, and, in addition, I felt some strong aura coming from her, so I thought that it was better to wait for her to let me come in. I was standing there, outside her house, looking at her pick what she needed for one of her strange recipes. Finally, she finished and turned her head to my side. She looked at me for a moment, then at the weather outside, and stepped aside, keeping the door open for me to enter. I entered the house immediately. Frankly, I was ready to be picked up by someone with a parental attitude when I found this house, but I thought this was the lesser of evils. However, this girl was different. She let me come in by myself, brought some dry towels, helped me dry off — in this process, indeed, I needed some help — then she left the living room and came back with hot milk. She put the food by my side and left me alone, returning to her work. At that moment, I knew I was going to stay by her side for as long as she would let me. For the first time in my entire life, I met a woman with the same independent and self-sufficient spirit as mostly only cats possess.

Since that day, I have been returning to that unusual house every day, its herbal scent lingering around. My favorite pastime has become spending cold, rainy days with my new friend, sitting on her knees by the fireplace, letting her stroke my fur. On those evenings, she mostly reads or writes in her notebooks. I don’t know what people get from those papers with numerous little crooked sticks drawn on them, but I like to look at the lines Vicky draws: they look so carved and elegant. So we have been living together for the third summer already, respecting each other and sharing our love and care. She cooks for me, scratches my ears when I want her to, shelters me, and I, on my part, protect her food supplies as well as those strange potions from harmful rodents. Those animals indeed have no manners. However, sometimes people can be even more malicious and infuriating. One unpleasant event that happened this spring serves as proof of that.

It was a pleasant spring day, which Vicky had spent gathering wildflowers and herbs in the forest. Sometimes, she would find a strangely scented mushroom and look so happy as she put it into her basket. Finally, after a whole day of work, she went back home. I followed her, as I had had enough walking that day as well. But as we neared the house, I caught the stench of anger and negativity. By the way, I never understood how people survive without being able to predict danger by smell. Yet I must mention that Vicky had her own senses to guide her. That time as well, before I could warn her, she had already tensed as if preparing to defend herself. Before we could reach the porch, a wildly looking woman ran toward us.

“You, where have you been? Were you trying to destroy someone else’s life with your potions? Why are you not answering me? Don’t have anything to say?”

Vicky went past that woman with her straight, graceful gait without even throwing a look at the uninvited guest. I admire how that woman sometimes resembles a cat. However, the aggressive woman didn’t appreciate that attitude as much as I did: anger flushed her face, and as the girl was already approaching the house, the woman rushed forward, trying to grab her hair. But Vicky was ready for such an unrefined act and stepped aside before the woman’s hand reached her hair tied in a ponytail.

“You are on my territory. Don’t make me call the police.”

“Police! Oh, don’t you dare tell me what to do. You should be begging for my apology now.”

“I haven’t done anything to beg for anyone’s mercy.”

“If you think you would be able to trick me the way you have tricked my stupid husband, you are not even a little bit smarter than he is.”

“I see you have some unresolved issues with your husband. I suggest you solve them with him and not with me.”

“We had no problems until you appeared in our lives.”

“Oh, so you think making a person fall in love with you with the help of a potion is not a problem?”

“You are slandering me. I have never done anything bad to my husband.”

“Well, I believe that you don’t see the problem, but what you have done is unethical. You can’t make someone love you. And there is no magic in this world capable of doing that.”

“You are lying. He loved me. He loved me all those years.”

“What he felt wasn’t love, it was addiction. Do you know any happy person with an addiction? I surely do not. And your husband was suffering every day without even recognizing the reason for his misery.”

“Don’t lie to me. You are a witch, you just wanted to destroy our happiness.”

“Yes, I am a witch, just like the one who made a love potion for you seven years ago. I understand why you have done that. You have lived the life of your dreams for long enough; now it’s time for your husband to choose with a clear head whether he wants to keep this life or not.”

“Even if so, you had no right to make that decision. I had done everything I could to make him happy. I was a good wife all these years.”

“I don’t oppose your words, but you just don’t understand what you have done. You can’t imagine the power of the magic you have turned to. And I would like to know what an unprincipled witch helped you with that.”

“I understand now… Okay, let me pay you for another potion, make it the right way. I’ll pay you as much as you wish, return everything to the way it was.”

“I am afraid you don’t understand. I don’t do love potions. I have seen for myself how disastrous they can be, and I have sworn that I would never use such power.”

“But you weren’t the one who used it, then why did you stick your nose into my family’s business?”

“I believed that knowing about the situation and doing nothing would make me feel like breaking the oath.”

“I don’t care how you feel. Give me my husband back! Or I’ll turn your life into a disaster. I’ll make sure everyone knows who you are.”

“Well, first of all, we are not in the 16th century, and women are no longer burned at the stake for gathering herbs and cooking. However, threats and intrusions into foreign territory are punishable by law. Therefore, I politely ask you to leave my land before I have to call the police.”

Vicky was still as elegant and calm as ever, which I can’t say about the unfamiliar woman. She kept throwing sharp, rude words at my friend, so I felt my help was needed. I bit her leg and made a hissing, threatening sound. That made the impact I expected. The woman got even angrier, but her fear was stronger, so she finally left. Vicky looked at me and smiled. She knelt next to me, stroked me, and said, “Thank you, my friend.”

From then on, I knew I was friends with a witch. I am sure she must be the best witch in the world, whatever that word means. That evening, she took out some old photographs and showed them to me as well.

“Look, that’s me. And this is my mother.”

The woman in the picture wasn’t beautiful at all. Her sharp face looked even uglier because of the wild look in her eyes. I couldn’t understand how this woman could have such a beautiful daughter until Vicky showed me that one picture.

“And this is my father. This is the only picture of him that is left. I burnt all the others… It’s the only one where he is smiling sincerely.”

The girl ran her hand over the photograph of a man she called father. It was a young man with thick curly hair. His green eyes looked directly from the picture, and the childish smile on his face made him look even younger. Vicky was smiling as she looked at the photograph, though I smelled sadness. I couldn’t say why, but I knew that the woman who came that day was the reason why Vicky remembered something that made her sad. That is why I found her house, and for the next month, I left my sign on her porch every single day. Yes, I have my ways to protect my friend.

Soon spring came to an end, giving way to an unbearably hot summer. I was enjoying my life, and the only problem that was troubling my existence was the heat of the sun in the midday, from which I could find no proper place to hide. Though Vicky seemed to enjoy that unnatural weather, as she liked to take a chair outside the house and spend hours sitting in it under the open sky, and she didn’t seem even to be bothered by the fact that her skin was turning dark. I tried to express my disapproval of such thoughtless behavior. I would even bite her to show my high protest, but she was not the type of person who would listen, so the only thing left to me was to sit in my relatively shady spot and glance at her with indignation. Life seemed mostly pleasant. Yet, once the wheel of events starts its motion, it can’t be stopped. One morning, while Vicky was taking her strange sunbaths, I sensed the presence of an unknown man. I grew wary because I couldn’t discern the purpose of this visit. Vicky must have felt my irritation as she raised herself in the chair and directed her gaze towards the forest. Soon, a young man appeared from the woods. I wasn’t pleased by the visitor; I had my personal reasons to dislike all men. Yet I felt no negativity from him, and probably none was sensed by Vicky, as she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, returning to her earlier task.

“Hi…” The man tried to start a conversation, yet Vicky deliberately ignored him.

“My name is Adam. You might not know me. My sister came to you for a remedy against the love potion my wife used on me.” He grinned as if laughing at his own words.

“There is nothing funny about love potions.” At last, Vicky deigned to pay attention to the guest.

“I am sorry… It’s just… I never thought I would once say anything like this.”

“No one does, unless this happens to them. But you didn’t have to come here. I don’t need your gratitude. I just did my job. So I suggest you return to your life. You had lost a lot of time.”

“Anyway, I felt the need to thank you personally. I don’t judge my wife. I know we were only 15 when she did that. She was probably too young to understand what she was doing. But during these months after the spell was removed, I realized how miserable my life was. I never felt anything real. I felt an emotional connection to the woman I lived with, and I felt only what she felt. I was never myself. I could never imagine it was so important for me to be me.”

“I am glad that you know that now. So… if that was all you came for, you may leave now.”

“Yes, I guess that’s all… Thanks again.”

Vicky had already put her sunglasses back and, with her relaxed posture, signaled that the conversation was over. The man waited for a moment; he probably wanted to say something else, but the girl left no chance for him to do that. I didn’t have to see his shoulders slump to know he was highly disappointed; his smell had already revealed his feelings to me. Yet, I smelled something more in the air that day. I knew Vicky very well, and I understood that her alienated behavior was not merely an expression of her usual free spirit. I felt the smell of fear in the air, which didn’t disappear with the departure of the stranger. My instincts told me my friend needed me right then, so I left my comfy spot and jumped onto her lap. I rubbed my fur against her. That made her laugh, and she scratched my ears.

“You are so smart, my little friend. You feel absolutely everything, don’t you?”

She was right: I felt everything. A witch or not, Vicky was a woman. And there was one thing I had learned well about women during my life: any of them is helpless when they fall under one specific spell- Love.