If Cats Disappeared from the World

by Genki Kawamura

“What’s wrong, Cabbage? Are you hungry?” That’s usually what he wants first thing in the morning. “No, that is not at all what I want.” “Okay then…” I was still struggling to believe that the cat was talking back to me. Cabbage let out a deep sigh. “Sir, you have once again completely failed to understand correctly.” “Sir?” I asked. Apparently he meant me. “What’s that all about?” How far was he going to take this gentleman bit? “If you’ll permit me to explain. When I want to go for a stroll, you always think I want to eat. When I do in fact want to eat, you think I want to rest—or ‘take a nap,’ if you will—and when it is ‘a nap’ that I desire, you believe I wish to play with you. Your judgment is always, if I may say so, just a touch off.” “Oh, really? Is that so?” The cat nodded and continued. “Yes. It is so. You behave as if you have an understanding of my kind, when in fact you do not understand cats at all. You ask me if I am sad when I am not sad, and see fit to approach me with that purringly sweet voice. I do wish you’d stop that! Although, to be fair, you’re not the only one who does this. All humans are this way.” I was shocked. I had lived with Cabbage for four years and I thought we understood each other perfectly. It can be a rude awakening when a cat starts to speak your language. “I’m sorry, Cabbage. So what is it you do want to do?” “I would like to go for a walk.”