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svgfahmesvgJune 14, 2022svgFiction

What happened to my Meowife Browney?

I met her during a heist. Just like all the other heists, it was an exciting one, full of danger.

The success of any heist depends on a few things. You have to take your preparations well. I prefer to observe the place for quite some time- minutes, if not seconds. I have to make sure that the party I am robbing is weak in heart and looking into other directions during my intervention. What is the nature of this party? Would they shout if they see me and try to catch (ahahahaha!!) me? Would they keep calm and try to reach their arms to repel me? Maybe they are just scared and would shout for reinforcement. I have to calculate every possibility. You would need to have an agile body and alert sense as well. Thankfully, I possess the best. I have no bones, making me the most agile one in the whole universe. I have been studying this place for 7 precious minutes. I would have preferred to observe a little more, but my 3rd nap time of the day was just around the corner, so I had to rush. After all, you can never be fully prepared for a heist. You have to count on the most precious item- the element of surprise! So, taking a lazy yawn and two slow steps from my hideout, I jumped.

My flexible body flew over the shelf at ease and landed just beside the target. The foolish foe didn’t even notice me. Ah, I am proud of my stealthy power. Perhaps I should get myself a nick. Sneaker- how does it sound? Being satisfied with myself, I moved in for the kill.

Then there was that. A brown paw. Just against my white one. When did I put my other paw here? Oh, wait, when did my paw get brown? Unless… of course, it wasn’t mine.

The brown feline stood just opposite of me, in a restless posture. She was frowning. I was taken aback by her grace as soon as she jabbed me on my mustache and grabbed my prize. Fighting over food is not uncommon for us- cats. It’s not like we don’t have food, it’s just a kind of sport for us. We love to spar with each other once in a while. Watching us spar, the foolish hooman species invented their stupid wrestling games, inspired by it. But they can’t growl like we do when we spar, they try so hard, though. I replied with a soft punch to the brown feline’s head. Well, I think I faked it. I couldn’t hurt such an elegant creature. I would rather watch her attack and feel her fury. I was too consumed in her pawsomeness that I didn’t notice the foolish hooman worshippers gathering around. I only noticed the presence of some other creature after they have put a net over me and Browney there. ( Browney, nice name, eh? )

Apparently the hoomans tried to apologize by offering us a bowl of milk each. To be honest, it was not a bad compensation considering that the piece of fish was too small for us both. Just when I was thinking of forgiving them, I caught Browney gazing directly towards me. Then she rubbed her head against the funny thing the hoomans called “cat bed”, and pointed her paw towards a royal box in the corner of the room. Such a stupid creature, these hoomans. How could they not offer us the royal box? We had to drag our holy body to 10 long feet to get inside the royal residence. After staying awake for 3 long hours at a stretch it was time to sleep.

Browney was my shelter in those days of the church. Those humble but weird hooman worshippers used to do most of the things wrong. Rubbing our belly when we were in the mood for some privacy, filming us when we are sparring (hence exposing our fighting tactics to all the other cats), taking away our royal boxes, throwing the foods in the food-bin away (how come they think that they are allowed to waste food! Only cats have this right), sleeping at night when it’s time to roam around and explore the world, staying awake in broad daylight- they did all these stupid things. Among these tortures, Browney was my only arc. She used to play with me, scratch me when I needed it, growl at me in a melancholic voice, strike me with her grace. She was my favorite pillow and I was hers. On a holy Caturday, I asked her if she would be my meowife. She said Mews!

The hoomans arranged a big party on our meowedding. But of course, they did it wrong. There were so many other people in the house as well. There were a big cake and spooky fires called candles. They also uttered the verses wrong. They said something like “Hoppy Budday” (What the hell does that even mean!) and blew the fires out, finally! I could tell Browney was getting impatient as she jumped over the cake as soon they put the spooky fires out. At this, the hoomans started acting even weirder and they put me and Browney back into our room. Browney told me that they probably understood her artwork (the amazing site of cake hitting the floor) and decided to admire that alone. I was getting sleepy, the hoomans were not bringing us food like they used to do. The door won’t open, even though Browney Meowed for a long time until I fell asleep.

The next day the hoomans took us outside. I didn’t understand why today, of all time, they would finally take us to bless the outer world. We were hungry and Browney was still Meowing. The female hooman was wiping her hands over her eyes while the male hooman was speaking in a loud voice. Browney came back to me and looked in my eyes with her big round beautiful eyes, I used my tongue to clean her head. She crawled into my embrace. The hoomans stopped the car after a few moments, opened the door, and put us outside.

Like all other stupid things they did while worshipping us, I couldn’t understand the meaning of this act. Browney thought maybe it’s one of those chasing games that we used to play. She went on chasing the car. I started chasing her. Suddenly another car came from the other side of the road. It didn’t stop after seeing us. Why didn’t it stop? You must stop when you see a cat, or move around it as a token of respect. How come so many hoomans are stupid nowadays? But… where is Browney? She wasn’t running. She was lying still like she was asleep. I moved onto her. There’s a splash of red color on her brown head. The red color is on the road as well. What is that? Where did it come from? I move my tongue on that spot. It’s kind of sticky. It’s understandable that she has fallen asleep. I mean it’s a nice sunny day and it must feel good to sleep under the warm sun. But she was hungry, doesn’t she need to eat?

There are no hoomans around. I tried to ask some around for food, but it seems like we have become invisible in their eyes. These hoomans are even weirder than the ones who used to worship us in their house. The sun has moved, but Browney hasn’t. I try to grab her by my mouth and put her on the roadside where there’s sunlight. She must feel better now. She is still sleeping. I put my paw and scratch her belly the way she loves it. She still doesn’t move. Is this a game, are you testing me, meow love?

It has been many hours, if not days. I am sitting beside her now. Why isn’t she waking up? Isn’t she hungry? I am hungry, but we must eat together. Why those big round eyes don’t reflect sunlight? What happened to my meowife Browney, stupid hoomans?

( I saw these photos 4 years ago in social media, presumably taken in Delhi. This story is inspired by these heartbreaking, world-shattering 4 pictures. I wish the Creator made us more kind, else just destroy this world with everything in it. )

svgThe man who killed the world
svgThe death of a story

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