CeeCee

I am not a cat person. Never was. Oh, not that I hate them or anything; just don’t have much to do with them. My daughter is different. They are real people to her, and she embraced them all with all the love and devotion a five year old can give.

CeeCee was her cat; sort of a dumpy little thing, actually. All white fur and light blue eyes, but her legs were short for a cat. She had a tiny bit of coffee-colored fur on the top of her head. But this cat ruled the house. (What cat doesn’t?)

Being a young man who was busy with his important job on the base, I never got much time to see my wife and daughter. But when I was home, my little girl was in my lap, and CeeCee was in her arms. That was an awkward arrangement, but I survived it. Her cat was quick with a claw if you put your hand near her person in the wrong way. She never drew blood, but you understood you were there at her indulgence only; queen that she was.

My daughter regailed me with stories when I would come home in the evenings, before her bedtime. To her, all cats were people and they communicated with their thoughts. Oh, they did not have much to say, but her cat was the Queen of cats, and she ruled all cats with grace and wisdom. She would tell me of goings-on the wide world, that was quite different in her little world view, compared to mine, with its wars and battles everywhere.

I was a senior radar technician on the airbase, which was near where we lived in our Maryland apartment. The whole place was in the woods, actually, since the base was supposed to be a secret. It was a sweet time, when my wife and I and our neighbors and fellow workers would have crab bakes in our back yards, with lots of beer and camaraderie in the Fall. Of course there was Baseball in the summer and being snowed in during the winter.

Winter. It seemed the thing to do, to allow my little girl to adapt a stray kitten, and also to allow her to name the tiny creature. Thus, ‘œCeeCee’ was her given name, which probably stood for ‘œKitty’ in my daughter’s limited vocabulary.

Kittens are born with all the wisdom that is to be given them, and before they grow up, they are incredibly smart. I know this for some reason, not understood, for many a night I would awake to find this fuzzball curled up and purring by my head on the pillow. What dreams I used to have, yet I never suspected they might be motivated by a kitten.

But the world was turning dark. The war was not going well, and the economy was tanking everywhere. I did not care much about any of this, for I had my little world with my dear wife and daughter, and we got by. I was lucky to have a good, steady job. So the rest of the world could go to blazes and it would not bother me at all. Or so I thought.

The war finally came to us, in the form of a missile. It missed our base, but hit in the forest beyond. That was where all our families lived. All of us who could leave our posts rushed there to find survivors. I looked for two days, and found their bodies in the rubble of our home. There was nothing left, but a tiny, stirring movement under a broken toy chest. It was CeeCee. She was dirty and indignant, but alive. She jumped in my arms as I stood there weeping, and I clutched her to me, as the only remaining memory of my former life.

They made room for us on the base, in old barracks, and we redoubled our toil in the cause, which was now to totally annihilate our foes. We would make them pay dearly for what they did to all of us. Everyone who remained had lost someone in this nightmare world, and we all worked with a vengeance.

My coming home thereafter, was a void and a gapping wound, but I was responsible for this little life that remained with me. CeeCee was not hard to care for. She ate little, but preferred to share something from my plate. Her tidy box was in the bathroom, and she slept in the crook of my arm, when I finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

What this cat would do all the long hours I was working, I am not sure about. She seemed to amuse herself with naps in the sunny window in my one room apartment. She did love to play with tie-wraps or a balled up old sock. I was fortunate, for most men around me had nothing at all of their former lives. I had my cat.

Our conversations together in the evenings were a bit one-sided, but that was acceptable. She would listen to my recollection of my many duties, and my rants about all of the horror of the world. She would not deign to make a comment about any of it, but she listened with all of the intensity of her tiny frame. She did offer solace, though. Who knew an animal, a pet, could offer love and affection, which mostly consisted of bumping heads? This fact was what I had not seen, which my very wise daughter had understood.

I know CeeCee also missed her ‘˜owner,’ for sometimes she would sit at the door as if she were patiently waiting for my family to come in. That was the only reason I could think of, for her strange behavior. I would come home to clean up and cook, but she would be by the door until it was time for us to eat. CeeCee was the only bit of brightness in my dark life in those days.

But the war was not going well. We were not bombing our enemy back to the stone age, as as we had thought. This was a total, global war of terrorism, where the enemy could turn up anywhere. They wanted our annihilation, and they did not care if anyone survived or not. These were the most evil of beings, who only wanted the world to die, in the name of their demon god.

We killed them by the millions, but those who remained had nuclear weapons, and they were ruthless in their employment, not seeking military targets, but whole civilian cities. And the world was dying. Mammals were becoming extinct. Crops were the targets of biological weapons. The oceans and seas were dying too. But we were too busy to notice.

In the end, it did not matter. Whole regions of the good earth were uninhabitable, and food and water were becoming scarce, and very precious. Now our battles were over what little remained. I do not know if we killed every one of those monsters who hid in their caves, but it did not matter any more. States were turning against states; jealous over resources and stockpiles of food.

I was home at night, when the bomb hit us. I was tumbling, like I remember as a boy, when teenagers had trapped me in a cardboard box and rolled me around in the street. The sensation did not seem to end. CeeCee was against my chest, as we clutched each other in the darkness. Then it all faded away, like a movie fades to black.

When I awoke, I was out on a lawn somewhere, in the bright sunlight and fresh air. My cat CeeCee sat in front of me, clean and pristine – and untouched by it all. She was washing her paw. I thought I was in a dream or an hallucination, but reality came back to me when I tried to sit up, for my wrist was broken. The pain was a tonic to me, as I looked around. There were others on the lawn: Other men and women who were also sitting up, as I was. In front of each of them was a sitting cat.

None of this made any sense at all. What did it mean? Then I heard thoughts in my heard, which were not my own. A voice, which was ancient and wise; quiet and calm. I barely heard what was said, as if I was joining a conversation that was already in progress.

‘œ ‘” could not prevent your world’s dying. We are not that powerful. We have lived among you for a long time, hopeful of you, for you are created in the Creator’s image. We have limited ability to save what remains, and we are doing so, protecting what creatures remain in the oceans, and on the land, so that you shall survive.’

‘œIt was your incredible explosion of knowledge and technology that we could neither warn you about, nor prevent you from using to carelessly plunder your world.’

‘œYou grew to be too many, and the shrinking resources of fuel, food and water drove your wars. That, and the insanity of a few who wanted the world to go back to earlier times. These totalitarians wanted to rule populations by keeping them in fear and ignorance. They hated your freedom and liberty. But in your war with them, your world was dying, and we could not prevent that either.’

‘œHowever, we have saved a remnant. You will survive and endure on this southern continent ‘” and perhaps do better this time around. We also will stay with you, so that you may learn a bit of wisdom, if you learn to listen to what is around you, instead of putting your head in a computer, television screen or gun sight.’

I understood now what my little daughter was trying to tell me. How is it that children can be so perceptive? This tiny cat was indeed the Queen of her race. I suppose that was why I was still alive and not dead in some radiated barracks.

There were ships above us; crafts made of light, and my little friend, the only remainder of my happy family, was being lifted up into the one above us.

How strange that I would miss her, even though I had no idea of what she really was. Those dreams where she whispered to me in my sleep, as she purred her kitten purr in my ear on the pillow; they were real too.

Now I understood the knowledge that she imparted to me. It was always with me and I never paid attention.

‘œCare for the people whom the good Lord has given you. Love them instead of your possessions or your position or status. Spend time with them instead of increasing the walls of your dwelling and the volume of your possessions. Care for the creatures that live on your world, instead of exploiting them to feed your plans and ambitions. For all things are One, if you will but stop and notice. All life is precious and vital to your existence, and you should respect this fact and be content to protect what you have been given.’

As those creatures of time and space left us, I knew we would be all right, for there were kittens everywhere around us, seeking attention with their persistent cries.

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