The Cat from Józefów

A grumbling tummy made Babka forget why she’d hidden herself.

Dinner was extremely late and hunger had a way of summoning her courage. Even though Babka couldn’t smell any food, she decided to do another search of the house. Dragging her furry, tiger-striped body out of the Boy’s hamper, she began her search with the kitchen—where the food usually had been located.

Careful with her paws to avoid the broken glass scattered across the floor, she inspected the kitchen cupboards and icebox with her finely-tuned sense of smell. There was meat in the icebox; those feline senses told her so. She pawed at the handle and when that didn’t worked, she scratched at it with her claws.

After that strategy proved fruitless, she migrated over to the parlor, scurrying past the front door which had been left ajar. Smells and sounds emanated from outside that frightened her. She’d shut the door if she could, but only humans were able to do that.

One of the scary machines—that rumbled and shook the house when it lumbered past—roamed nearby. The clacking of its tracks was distinct and identifiable. Babka had eventually gotten used to the motorcars when they passed by, but this was larger. More frightful.

Next Babka entered the Man and the Woman’s bedroom. No one was there nor did she find anything she could eat. She checked the Baby’s room last—not finding anyone or anything in there either—before returning to the Boy's bedroom. Babka liked the Boy the most. He’d find the most wonderfully colored strings to play with. The Boy snuck her dinner scraps under the table, even when the Woman had protested. He was also warm and inviting. Reading on the rocking chair, that was Babka’s invitation to come sleep in his lap, which she loved to do.

Where is everyone? Babka wondered. Did they go somewhere?

She ducked under the Boy’s bed. A shirt of his lay underneath. It carried his scent, which gave Babka a warm and comforting feeling and she began to purr. It took her mind away from her hunger.

There'd been a darkness and a sunshine since she'd last seen the family. Humans had been here, just not her humans. Strangers had trespassed while Babka hid inside the Boy’s hamper undetected until their taking and smashing ceased.

Where’s dinner? I’ve been a very good girl, so this shouldn't be happening, she reasoned.

Babka heard the creak of the front door. Heard footsteps. There were voices in the parlor. Babka’s ears perked. Was it her family?

With feline swiftness, she shot out from under the bed then retreated back just as quickly. No that was not their scent. No. No. No. It was not them. The hair on her tail puffed out into a spiky mass.

The strangers had returned.

Babka fought back the urge to growl and hiss.

If they wanted to break and steal again, she felt powerless against these intruders. Her territory had been inexorably breached. Whatever they took, she just needed them to leave the clothing—the smells of her family. Those were hers.

The tiny house shook. The rumble and screech of heavy items being lifted, dragged and dropped made Babka tuck her tail beneath her body and scrunch down into a ball, waiting for it to end.

I've been a good girl. I've been a good girl. She kept repeating to herself.

Boots entered the Boy’s bedroom. She could see them from where she lay underneath the bed. The owner of the black boots plodded around, making a commotion. His mouth noises couldn’t be decoded, but they sounded menacing. Babka pulled herself tighter into a ball.

I've been good.

I've been good.

I've been good.

She heard a lamp knocked and saw it fall to the floor, shattering. Shards spilled under the bed where she hid. Babka quivered. A dresser was pushed over then dragged from the room. A painting was ripped from the wall. For a horrifying moment, Babka thought the Boots might drag the bed away too, exposing her. She extended her claws but then thought better of it.

After the Boots left, Babka remained beneath the bed for some time. Patiently, she waited for the noises to stop. For the voices to go away. Only then did Babka hesitantly exit the Boy’s bedroom and look around.

The table was gone. So was the rocking chair. In fact, all the chairs were gone and all the pictures were stripped from the walls. Her territory looked off. It looked alien.

The Boots had taken things—taken things that were not theirs. More glass littered the floor and Babka had to be careful to step around it. She feared one of those shards becoming embedded in a paw.

Inside the kitchen there were cups and plates broken everywhere. There were more shards to avoid than places on the floor for Babka to step. She sniffed around, displeased by what she found. Her nose scrunched. The scent of those strangers lingered everywhere.

Babka saw that the icebox had been overturned and lay open, its contents spilled out onto the floor. Remembering her hunger, she approached it and sniffed. The meat was inside, just within reach.

Babka pawed at it and as she did, she thought about the Woman. She doesn't like it when I eat their food, Babka reflected. But I'm oh so hungry, So very hungry.

It was forbidden, yes. But Babka decided to eat the meat. Dinner was dreadfully late.

Her claws latched onto a sizable hunk and she scooped it out of the overturned icebox. The meat was a little tough but she ripped and chewed and it ended up being a nice meal. When it was over, Babka groomed herself. Slowly and methodically, she cleansed her body of all the unwanted odors the day had marked her with.

Yet even with her stomach full and her fur nicely groomed, a question hung in the air.

Did they forget about me? Babka wondered.

All her pre-dinner emotions flooded back. She felt discarded. Worse, in being discarded she felt shame.

An idea struck Babka. She trotted over to her favorite lounging spot atop the bookshelf. By sitting in her favorite spot—where the warm rays of the afternoon sun landed near the window—she’d conduct an experiment. This is where she’d be waiting every day when the Woman brought the Boy home from school. Sitting there will bring him home, Babka reasoned. If I stay there long enough, that is what will happen. Yes.

Babka approached the bookshelf then saw something distressing. The highchair that rested beside the bookshelf—the one she’d always used as a step to launch herself high up top—had been taken. So had the rest of the furniture. Only the bookshelf remained in the barren room.

How am I going to reach my sitting spot? How will the Boy come home? I don’t like this.

Inspecting the parlor, Babka observed the front door to no longer be ajar, but now fully open.

Cautiously, oh so very cautiously, she tiptoed towards it, each footstep slower and more hesitant than the one that proceeded it. She hated the outdoors. It was the world of predators, dangerous men and loud machines. She possessed the courage to stick her nose past the doorframe to have a sniff of things. But a nose was all she was willing to risk.

Her family was out there. Somewhere.

Babka summoned more bravery. She took a small kitty step. Then another. And another.

A whisker crossed the doorframe. An ear followed. Babka stuck her whole head outside. She gazed at the beyond.

Familiar noises like the wind sounded alien in this outdoor landscape. The breeze tickled her ears. She smelled new smells. It was scary, but when Babka concluded that nothing bad was within the immediate vicinity, she gingerly walked a few more steps and fully exited her home.

Movement to the right startled her. Feline reflexes swung her head like a compass needle; that sound was magnetic north. On instinct, she arched her back and extended her claws.

It was the dog from next door—the mean one. He’d chased her the last time she’d been courageous enough to venture outdoors. But the dog didn’t have any interest in chasing her this evening. He regarded her with mild interest and a look she recognized from the humans. It was sadness.

He whimpered at her. The sound asked simply: “?”

But Babka had no answer for him. Through one of the windows, she could observe the dog’s territory. His house was smashed up and emptied too.

He turned away, surveying what lay far beyond in the distance: the forest. Babka remembered the forest. It was where the family had found—no, rescued—her.

It was also the direction the thunder had come from. That happened…when? One darkness ago. All day there’d been thunder but no rain and no lightning accompanying it. Babka hated thunder.

The dog sniffed the evening air. Sniffed and sniffed. He'd captured something—a smell. Babka sniffed too but came away with nothing useful.

The dog began to move. Babka followed, curious if he knew something that could solve her mystery.

Leaving her territory behind, she trailed him at a safe distance, cautious and hesitant. Each step forward took her deeper into the outside world that belonged to the predators. She followed the dog down a path the humans called the road. Together, they passed more empty homes. In one of them, Babka saw another cat sitting in the windowsill. Waiting. She recognized this cat by her scent.

This is the one they call Ketzela.

They turned down another road. No one was out there either. Like Babka’s home, the outside world seemed uninhabited.

They passed into a large open area. Carts and wagons lay empty and abandoned. Tables were overturned. The wind was the only thing that spoke in the great square. She didn't realize it but she was walking through the market square where the Man had a shop. Babka sidestepped an overturned wheelbarrow and waited for the dog as he stopped to do more stiffing before regaining his tracks and continuing on. She didn’t know the word “eerie” but that’s how the silence in this vast space felt.

The dog chose a new road and the two animals continued in that direction. It led away from Babka’s home. Away from the hushed market and houses.

The sun dipped below the horizon. If the dog understood that twilight was upon them, he showed no signs. New energy alerted Babka that he had found something. With every sniff he grew more excited and that excitement was contagious.

He stopped to inspect a wooden sign on the outskirts of the village. It read JÓZEFÓW, which meant nothing to Babka cause she could not read Polish.

The dog stepped off the path, traversing through the grass, and Babka followed eagerly. He advanced toward the forest, abruptly stopping at the edge of the woodline.

It was here that Babka became overwhelmed. She crinkled her nose. The scents—there were too many. It was the aromatic version of staring at the sun.

The dog went no further. There was not enough daylight left to illuminate the forest. Darkness lay beyond. He looked at Babka and moaned. It was a cry of defeat.

So Babka assumed the role of leader. With her superior vision, she'd lead the both of them toward those overpowering odors. She entered the woodline, entrusting the dog to defend her against whatever predators crawled in these woods. It was an unspoken pact.

They came upon the site very quickly.

It started with finding the cigarette. The stubbed out butt had been discarded halfway between the woodline and where the ground dropped. Both animals sniffed it for clues. They knew what cigarettes were; the villagers smoked them. But there was something unfamiliar about this one—it hadn’t been manufactured in Poland. It originated in a different land: where the invaders had come from.

A few steps further and the dog’s temperament shifted. He suddenly exploded forward at a sprint. For a moment Babka feared their pact had been broken; she’d been betrayed by her neighbor. The wily dog had lured her out into the forest—far from safety—to chase her down again. Only this time there’d be no hiding place. His jaws would close around her tiny neck and then…

Oblivion.

But the dog rushed past her. Her eyes tracked him as he went, only noticing the large, rectangular hole in the earth once he was upon it.

Careful where to place her paws for balance, Babka approached, scurrying around the edge of the enormous pit. What all these people were doing down there confounded her. She knew them all by smell. There was the person the Woman referred to as her sister. There was the Man’s friend who wore the black hat, the one called Viktor. There was the couple the Boy called his grandparents. Babka recognized their scents; they were all down here in this pit. She knew it was them. They all wore those armbands. Even in the dark, Babka’s feline eyesight could distinctly see the armbands with the yellow star.

None moved. None spoke. So many were crammed down there, lying both face up and face down. Row upon row.

Babka didn't understand it.

She’d seen something similar before. The Man's brother. Something had happened to him and they’d dug a hole—a much smaller hole—in the yard and the brother had gone in it.

Babka jumped down into the pit and crawled over everyone, sniffing each and every person to see if she could locate her family. The dog howled and whined behind her, but Babka paid no attention. She was on a mission.

Sniff. This one I don't know.

Sniff. This is the one called Golda.

Sniff. This is the one called Mordecai.

Sniff. This is the one called Jakob.

This is Klara. This is Aron. Rachel. Shlomo. Greta. Izaak. Josef. Leah. Ester. Rivka. Hersz. Meyer.

Babka came upon her family at the very end of the row. They were all together—the Man, the Woman, the Boy whom Babka loved deeply, and even the Baby.

Why did they leave me? she wondered.

Babka wasn’t sure what it was, but knew something bad had happened. The Boy hadn’t sprung up, excited to see her. He didn't react. There was something else too. He didn’t possess his warmth anymore. Babka felt the safest and coziest when she was on the Boy’s lap. It was the best place on Earth to be. Also, the expressions they wore on their faces scared her. They were frozen screams of pain.

The dog howled mournfully.

It made no sense why all the villagers were down in this pit. Motionless. Cold.

Yes, something bad had happened. Babka was certain of it. But it was beyond her capacity to understand, so she let the thought drop. They were united again and that’s what mattered.

I’m back with my family, Babka thought. It soothed her.

She climbed onto the Boy's lap—her favorite place in the world to sit—his scent calming her. The anxiety of today's ordeal melted with his aroma. She hadn’t been abandoned.

The Boy was here.

There were predators in the woods, but Babka forgot about the danger. The sounds of war off in the distance, went ignored.

The future did not matter yet. Just this moment. She sat there smelling the Boy and eventually she began to purr.