Scratchy

Cat had always shared her room with the washer and dryer. She hadn’t minded the humming of the washer and rumbling of the dryer. She could feel the warmth of their running frames when she was in her bed. The laundry was done every Sunday. Cat made a habit of doing her homework or reading her latest book during this time. Her bed was in a niche that her dad and brother Buddy had built for her out of wood, then painted white. There were many scratches on the boards below the mattress. In between her bed enclosure and the dryer was a small table that held her lamp, current book, and two cat figurines. Cat had put them next to each other and positioned them so they could look out the back window, into the woods. It was October, her birthday month, and she’d bought them for the occasion from the thrift shop. The owner told Cat that the two black cat statuettes were from Morocco and Egypt. Ancient and mysterious places to Cat who’d not seen the world outside her small town called Rocky Hill in New Jersey. The plastic one with gold earrings and a collar from Egypt looked like the ones she’d seen in books; the one from Morocco was solid black metal, and Cat didn’t know if there were other ones like this one in that country. Cat planned to travel someday so the statues gave her promise that she would.

Halloween was that night. Cat was excited for tricker-treating with her friends Gwilym and Hattie.

“Catherine!” called her mom. “Come try on your costume.”

She went into her parents’ bedroom where her mom was sitting at her sewing machine. “Here. Try this on.” Her mom handed her a furry black costume that looked like pajamas with a hood.

Cat stepped into it and slipped her white Converse sneakers out the opening on bottom of the costume. She zipped up the front, then looked down at the white belly.

“Put the hood on,” said her mom.

Cat pulled on the hood that had ears attached and turned to look in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. “Mom, I love it. I look just like Scratchy. I just need to paint a nose and whiskers.”

Her mom smiled and got up. “Well, get going. I hear rustling by the front door.” As she said this the front doorbell rang.

“Bye!” Cat said, finishing her cat nose and whiskers.

“Be careful!”

“I will.”

“Be back by ten.”

“Okay.”

“Your dad and I will be at the party, and Buddy will be over at his friend’s house.”

Cat, Gwilym, and Hattie walked up to the house next door to hers. Cat shivered. The night weather was totally set for Halloween chills. Gwilym was Frankenstein’s monster and Hattie was a bat. Her next-door neighbor, Mr. Farnsworthy was sitting on his front porch. “Happy Halloween, kids.” Mr. Farnsworthy had changed the clear light bulb on the ceiling to an orange one which cast an eerie light on him. He pointed at Cat’s Scratchy costume. “I think I caught his black tail gliding through my bushes out back last night. I swear I saw his glowing eyes look back at me.” He lowered his face and grinned, giving it a devilish appearance.

Cat put her hand on her stomach. It suddenly felt uneasy.

“C’mon!” Hattie yelled to her. She and Gwilym were at the sidewalk.

Cat’s mind began picking up memories of Scratchy. He had died three weeks ago. He’d died of old age, but one still doesn’t get used to the idea that one’s beloved pet isn’t going to live forever. Cat had had him since he was a tiny kitten. She’d found him in the woods behind the house. It was early evening on Halloween, and she’d stepped out the back door to feel the temperature. That’s when she heard his meow. He was taken in and immediately became a family member.

Scratchy had mainly been an outdoor cat and his favorite domain was back in those woods where she’d found him. And as far as his name, he didn’t scratch anyone or anything like furniture. His name came from the first night he was in the house. He’d fallen into a spot between the wall and the washer and dryer. His scratching noise had awoken Cat who was able to maneuver him out safely. Scratchy was her first cat, her first animal, and she’d been responsible to feed him and clean his litter box.

As she walked up each driveway to the front doors, she started imagining her deceased cat’s tail flickering in the bushes alongside the houses. It was dark. Kids’ screams were all around her. In front of her the wind nearly blew off a white sheet off a kid’s head.

They completed the neighborhood route. Cat was glad, she was tired.

“Definitely a good night for Trick-Or-Treating,” Gwilym muffled through his Frankenstein mask. “Where did you bury Scratchy by the way?” he asked, taking his mask off. “I was just thinking about what Mr. Farnsworthy said.”

“We buried him in the woods behind the house where he loved to be.”

“Maybe he did climb out of his grave. Did you put a grave marker where he’s buried?”

“Yes, we poured cement into a mold then wrote his name and the dates of when we found him and when he died. I can see where he’s buried from my bedroom window.”

“You were out of town, Gwilym, when we had the funeral,” Hattie reminded him.

“That’s right., I forgot.” He looked in his pillowcase filled with candy. “Looks like a good bounty this year. Alright, see you guys later.” He walked to his house next door. Hattie lived across the street, so she headed in that direction.

Cat unlocked the front door of her house. It was dark inside. Her parents were still at their “adult party” and Buddy was at his friend’s house. She was alone in the house. It was 9 o’clock.

In her room, she made her way across to the switch on the nightstand lamp. She sat on her bed and poured out her pillowcase and smooth out her loot. She nodded with satisfaction. Her neighbors gave out the good stuff.

She ate one Reece’s peanut butter cup, then laid down. She closed her eyes and began drifting off to sleep when she heard a noise. Cat opened her eyes and listened, thinking at the same time. Why am I opening my eyes? My eyes can’t help me hear any better. She heard it again. It was a cry. A soft meow. Her heart began beating faster. Sounds like Scratchy’s cry.

She sat up and looked out the window. The darkness did not offer her any view into the woods. She pressed her lips together. I’m being silly. But…maybe there’s another cat out there that needs help. She took a flashlight from her side table drawer and went outside.

Still wearing her Scratchy costume, she walked over the fall leaves to where his grave was. It was cold and there was no wind. She flashed the light around and listened. No cat cry or sound of any animal. No movement. Cat was about to call “Scratchy!” but stopped herself. He’s in his resting place. She knelt beside the maker, kissed her palm and rested it on the cold cement. As she stood up, the moon cast a light on a shimmering black object just beyond Scratchy’s grave. It looked like a cat.

It’s just my imagination. Cat shook her head. She scolded herself and Mr. Farnsworthy as she opened the back door, then moved into the dark hallway, making her way to her bedroom.

She sat on the bed, feeling relieved that she’d left the light on. She closed her eyes and concentrated on slowing down her breath to a normal rhythm. Finally feeling relaxed, she turned her head to look at her two new figures of cats. She blinked. Her heart quickened its beat again.

The Moroccan and Egyptian cats were positioned towards the machine—not towards the window. No one was in the house. Neither her parents nor Buddy would’ve moved them. Gwilym and Hattie had not been in her room since she’d bought them. And she certainly hadn’t.

She looked again at the cat figures, this time following their gaze which was facing the small crevice where Scratchy had fallen into as a kitten. Cat got up and crept to the machines. Slowly, she peered into the small opening. Two small yellow eyes blinked and looked up at her.

Cat whipped her head back and stood in the center of the room on the pink shag rug. She shut her eyes and concentrated on getting her breath back to normal again. Blowing air out her mouth, she opened her eyes and looked at the figurines. They were now turned from the machines and were facing her. Shaking now, Cat stepped backwards and tripped on the rug. She hit her head on the wall, then slid down to the floor.

“Cat?” It was her mom. “Are you here? What was that noise?”

She heard the door to her room creak.

Cat butterflied her eyes open to see her mom standing over her.

“Are you okay? What are you doing on the floor?”

Cat looked at the feline figures on her bedside table. They were looking out the window in the positions she had originally place them. She felt the back of her head. “Och. I tripped on the rug and hit my head.”

Her mom helped her up and they went into the kitchen to join her dad.

Cat stayed up late reading comic books on the couch in the family room. She decided to go to bed only when her head jerked forward, waking her.

On the bedside table the cats remained in their positions. She didn’t look behind the machines again before getting into bed and turning off the lamp.

Cat never forgot that Halloween night. The next day Cat placed the Moroccan cat and the Egyptian cat beside Scratchy’s grave. The spot she felt they’d best like to be.