36) The Cat That Could Only Talk to Dogs

Depending on how one looked at it, Mittens was either the smartest of his species and name, or the dumbest cat to have ever lived. His youth was spent slinking in a garden next door to a young puppy. Mittens watched the Labrador chase up and down the length of the garden collecting tennis balls. He paid particularly close attention to how the Labrador celebrated each collection with a bark.

Under the moonlight, Mittens would try to mimic the Labrador. He patted a worn cricket ball he found in the shed and chased after it. After retrieving the cricket ball, he’d place it by the imaginary owner’s feet and bark. This is how Mittens learned to talk to dogs.

The Labrador moved away shortly after Mittens acquired this arguably useless talent. The other cats ignored Mittens because he was too energetic for them. After a lonely week, a new dog moved in next door. She was a giant Alsatian with a thinning coat of fur. She spent her days moping in the garden, occasionally howling at the moon in the hope someone might talk to her.

Mittens watched the Alsatian from the fence of his garden, intimidated by her size. He barked at the dog, whose eyes slowly rolled to where the cat was. The cat barked again and the Alsatian walked over. They exchanged greetings. Mittens asked how the Alsatian, who was called Tinker, liked her new home. She whimpered. It was smaller than her old home (or maybe she was just bigger she contemplated), her owner wouldn’t take her for walks and the birds kept pecking her.

Mittens looked over to the fence where three blackbirds stood very still. The birds had tried to torture him and the Labrador when they were growing up. Mittens knew all it took was a little roughing up to get them to back off for good. Yet Tinker seemed opposed to the idea of fighting. She went back to sunbathing under the overcast and as Mittens left her the blackbirds jumped along the fence.

That evening, when Tinker was allowed inside, the blackbirds stared into the house watching her sleep. They pondered the ways they could annoy her; pull her tail, rip out her hairs, peck her ears. They croaked quietly in amusement. One of the three finished croaking before the other two. They glanced over to see Mittens with the bird’s head buried in its mouth. They screeched at Mittens and took flight.

Tinker came to the door to see what the fuss was. She saw Mittens playing with the bird at his feet, smiling. Tinker’s face dropped as she slinked away from the window.

The pair never spoke again and no new dogs ever moved nearby. Mittens spent his days howling at the moon like Tinker had taught her. He could talk to dogs, but he learnt to late that he didn’t know how to listen to dogs.