Cat, Of the Apocalypse - I

21st December 2012. The day humans today thought the Mayans had prophesied the end of the world. Not that the humans know very much. Its peculiar how they declare absolute knowledge from vague things that they can only presume. Nevertheless, it is rather an utterly human thing to do.

Predictably enough, the day dawned bright and sunny. Almost too sunny and cheerful for winter, as if to protest the indignity of having been designated as the day of the apocalypse.

 My human though was scared out of his wits. He peered suspiciously from under his numerous coverings at the bright new day, probably muttering something about deceitful Satanic illusions. With much loath he wriggled out from the safety of his bed and poignantly prodded the floor with a toe. Testing the fabric of the alleged diabolic illusions no doubt. A sigh was let out: disappointment of its solidity and consequent reality, and thereafter the prospect of having to deal with the unavailability of a viable excuse of not going to work. 

See, of the seven deadly sins, my human was guilty was of all save pride. And as for wrath, his supreme sloth had firmly rooted notions concerning too much hard work of which wrathfulness was a part. You'd think for someone as devout as him, he'd take all that sinning seriously and harbour a healthy fear of purgatory. 

While he busied himself with a meagre breakfast of cereal he switched on the television as if to affirm that there was nothing wrong with the outside world, though I dare say he hoped there was so he wouldn't have to brave another day at the office. As it turned out, everything was fine in every corner of the world. No ground erupting open, no tsunamis or nuclear disasters. Everything was peculiarly well. Not even a murder or a rape in the great bustling city. 
After he finished the retinue of things that humans do in the morning, he gestured around his head with a cross and braced himself for the outside world. Following which I set about my daily snoozing schedule with utmost diligence. 

By the time I was done with my eighth round of dozing for the day, I heard my human return.  By the looks of him, it was another one of his curiously unremarkable days. I purred at him to remind his pitifully preoccupied brain to feed me. Which he did benignly enough so I rubbed my head around his heels for sometime. 
Then came the time of the day when my human dozed before a blaring television while I pranced around some bugs and pests to entertain myself. As I was engaged thus near the balcony, I would see at some point the lumpen body of my human trudging sleepily to bed. 


 The 22nd of December dawned a wee bit foggy. My human got out of bed with his customary reluctance. The television was switched on once again to see if was foggy enough to not go to work. Alas, it wasn't. Thus began the morning rituals. 

I was perched on the windowsill, fluffed up against the cold with my gaze set upon him fixedly. He put out some food in my bowl so I wouldn't go hungry all day. He then felt the need to pet me following which he proceeded to exit and held the door open. He must of course brace himself for the day ahead and hence reached into his pocket for his cross. The regular gesturing and muttering followed till suddenly his clothes and the cross fell to the floor. 

And he was nowhere in sight. 

I judged the gravity of what I'd just seen. Deciding it needs investigation, I stalked off out of the gaping door. 

  To be continued