If Cats Could Talk ... Would They Cry?

by Anatoli Scholz

Turning herself to align with a sunny spot, the warmth bewitching her mind to an instinctive shuteye, Julie fell back asleep. Whether human or cat, there was no conceivable rush to get up.

She was a cute cat, she had to admit.

“It’s me, Margot. It’s Julie, your friend”, she got up and took a step toward a retreating Margot. “Please try not to panic, OK? It’s all right. I’m just a cat, not a snake.”

With each year, she had shed more and more of the inner child. That inner desire to do something different. Julie wished to have an urge to create anew or be swept away by the adventures of life. More often, she wished to simply care for something or someone without scaring herself. Just the idea seemed an illusion.

Julie felt the odd one out that day, and the day after, and for all the days that followed. Without knowing it then, this distance, this shyness was going to become Julie’s defining feature.

She is me.

Over the course of her childhood, she rarely played with other children, easily able to account for each occasion on which she did. She avoided diving into social situations that others found interesting, comfortable in looking at the swing set from afar.

I am her.

“Look at the waves, Julie. They are like men playing in the curls of the gods.”

Julie felt that most of her colleagues existed in a sort of organized chaos. Each of them bluffing to look as if they knew what they were doing long enough for people to believe them, including Mathilde.

Making lasting connections with people had always been difficult for Julie. She never knew how someone could have the courage to look for a friend, or simply walk up to someone, start talking, and magically become connected. She had seen her sister do it all the time. People had tried and walk up to Julie, yet she could never shake a suspicion about their intention. It made her feel foreign inside her own body.

Time is such a precious little thing in the end. And we do have so little of it! I was too desperate for it to move quicker, and now, all I wish for is for it to come back!

“To your heart being wrong sometimes and right all other times. As long as you live.”

Demons don’t go away, you just get used to them. They become a part of you.”

“I mean, in many ways, you were very much like a cat already. You’re shy. You like being in your control, and prefer to be left alone. It makes sense. You’re basically the same as before. Just smaller, furrier, on four legs, and with a tail.”

It reminded her of another story from her father. About how Aphrodite had fallen in love with Ares, the god of war, even though she was meant to be with another. He told his daughters that in his life, he had never seen anyone be in love with the person they were meant for. There was no point in fighting the universe in matters as powerful as that. If such a cruel match is possible among the gods, then what are us mortals left with?