A Bed For Hope

Drips stained the marble floor. Three splashes, then nothing. Then again, three splashes. Next to the last splash sat a kitten, wet fur all the way through. Greenish eyes looked into the distance.

There was nothing in sight, just a white marble floor. The kitten's legs trembled — first one paw, then another caved. She lowered her head onto the floor. Closed her eyes. She felt so tired. So hungry.

***

“Well, hello, tiny one.”

A gentle voice tickled her ear. Her head turned toward it. The first word was still dulled by distance, the last word whispered straight in her ear as if he was standing next to her.

“H-Hello,” her muscles tightened, expecting a push or slap. Her head strained one eye dared to open, just a sliver. Sitting in front of her was a black cat. Perfect stance, shiny fur, proud-looking yellow eyes. Those eyes burned on her, poking at her soul.

“You're very wet,” the cat said as a crude, warm tongue licked over her head.

Every lick was a sensation that pushed the cold further away. Without the cold, she felt less tired — very slightly, enough energy to open her eyes.

“It’s cold,” the little kitten meowed.

“I know,” the gentle voice said. Immediately, there was a relief. The cold felt easier. Her jaws clenched, a deep inhale. “Hnnggg.” With that, she sat.

“You're missing a leg,” the large cat said.

“Never had it,” her tail made a first failing attempt at wiggling. “It made it hard to drink with Mama. All my brothers pushed me away.”

The big cat bobbed his head. “Yes, it did. You’re not very big, are you?”

A gnawing sensation spread from her empty stomach. A big breath was pushed into her tiny lungs.

“I know,” a deep sigh. “Are you going to tease me with it too?” Her front paw trembled.

As the little cat's leg lost its footing, lightning-fast, the old cat slipped his leg under her head, steadying her.

“Who teased you?” The large cat came closer, leaning on his paw. She sat better upright; breathing came easier.

The memory flashed of her brothers and sisters pushing her away to drink, pushing her over just for fun. A knot formed in her throat.

When she thought about the three humans that played with all of her brothers and sisters, but not with her, she shivered. She was too slow, too tired, too weak to play.

“Everyone,” a sad meow as the knot took over. Her shoulders started shaking and her eyes watered.

Suddenly, the tiredness came back. All she wanted was to lie down and sleep.

The old cat licked her ears. His eyes were soft, yellow, unblinking.

“Do you want to play?” her voice lighter, sharper.

“You have to be patient. I am not very fast,” she meowed, looking at her missing leg. She knew she was not fun to play with.

The humans seemed to think so too. Another memory flashed. This morning she struggled to wake, when the hunger clawed at her little stomach. They scooped her up and took her for a bath.

The old cat's eyes locked on her. There was some twinkle in them. She did not recognize it. Without a word, the cat lay down next to her. His warm body felt almost boiling against hers.

“First, warm up a bit,” he said. “Then let's have something to eat.”

Her tail tapped the marble in weak, steady beats. Warmth and the promise of food sharpened her senses; her mouth was no longer so dry.

“You have kibble on you?” The little kitten's eyes went big.

“Kibble?” The old cat lifted his head. “My dear… what's your name?”

The kitten's eyes filled with tears. “I don't have a name,” a sad meow. “My brothers and sisters got one from the humans. I was very hard, I think.”

A warm wetness spread behind her, where the old cat's head rested. The old cat inhaled sharply, exhaled with little shocks.

“Well,” the voice suddenly had a broken tremble in it, “how do you want to be called?”

Her gaze found the cat.

“A name?”

The marble felt warmer beneath her, her muscles loosening. Her eyes stayed open.

“I think I will call you Hope,” he said. “Now, kibble? Of all things?”

“I only got it once,” Hope told him. “When all my brothers and sisters slept, I sneaked up and ate the last.” Her head lifted upward, a twinkle in her eye.

“Yes, you did.” The old cat stroked her head. “But now, no kibble. Let's give you a real treat.”

***

It hit her nostrils like a warm, pleasant summer morning — sweet, fat, a strange salty smell.

“Wow!” a light voice escaped her as her mouth watered.

Her head drifted toward the smell at once.

“All for you,” the old cat said as his paw pointed at a bowl full of pink meat.

The little kitten wobbled on her three legs to the bowl and gorged herself. The first taste made her eyes water; the stringy meat pleased her tongue, almost tickling it — the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

“Now how about some milk to wash it all down?” The old cat had only just finished the last word when the saucer with warm, fresh milk splashed down beside her. Hope licked the milk. Before she knew it, she let out a “hmmmm.”

Her eyes met the old cat's. “Don't you want some?” she meowed with a mouth full. “There is plenty.”

A strange, wet drop of water emerged from the old cat's eye. His mouth fell open.

“Oh, Hope,” he said after a while. “You are the best of us.”

***

The marble floor held her, belly full. Warmth spread through her, unfamiliar and deep.

Her tail twitched, slapping the floor in rhythm.

“So now play?” A tail wiggled.

“Of course,” the old cat said. He stood up and stretched.

And they played and played and played. Hope laughed her little lungs out. Ran as fast as she could. Tried to hide from the old cat's vision. Scared him with her paw. Playing tag.

The old cat laughed and encouraged her.

***

“Well, Hope,” he said. They lay on the marble again, both breathing heavily. Her heart raced happily. Then he paused, tilted his head. “Where do you want to go?” He pointed to the distance. “Sleep in a warm basket?”

“I am not tired,” Hope said back.

“You're not supposed to be tired already,” the old cat said. Hope looked at the old cat as he exhaled and tilted his head.

“Are you going to bring me to bed?” Hope said, a yawn escaping her. Her limbs were heavy. Her eyes closed.

“That was the idea.” The old cat walked a few circles around Hope. “But now that it is time, I find it hard.”

“Can I help you?” Hope offered. “I can walk a part by myself.” She stared into the distance. “Not that far, though.” She looked at her missing leg.

“I have a better idea,” the old cat said slowly. He winked at Hope. “Hold on.”

He grabbed Hope by the neck and started running — faster and faster. The wind roared — not like wind through trees, but like the sound of a river — making Hope close her eyes.

“Don't worry,” the old cat said. “We will be there soon.”

***

Hope opened her eyes. She lay in a wet plastic bag, next to a river flowing fast. She looked around. The old cat wasn't there anymore. It felt emptier.

Suddenly she felt tiny hands petting her head.

“Kitty!” a little voice said. Hope's eyes met those of a little girl with a tiny pink ribbon in her hair. When the hand came again, she pushed her head against it with all she had. The hand was warm and gentle. The little girl giggled, then turned. “Kitty! Mommy, kitty!”

“What's that, Veda?” another voice came, gentle but more grown. Hope saw a woman with black hair, brown eyes, a friendly face.

“Ahw, she only has three legs?”

Hope lowered her head as the sounds around her dulled. This was usually the part where they stopped touching her. The hands didn't leave. The woman picked her up, tickled her belly. “How about we get you some milk?” Her hand was warm; Hope wriggled in it, soaking up the heat.

She meowed, catching the woman's finger with her paw, hanging on tight. Her tail did what it had to do.

***

“Assholes,” the woman said as she threw the plastic bag in the trash can.