The Cat Came Back

He was old. Old and tired. Sick of trying to keep up with all the kittens. This last batch was the final straw. He kicked the mother cat out of the way and entered the house. For two years now he had been peddling her kittens around the neighborhood. All the neighbors had at least one of her progeny,  there was no one left to give them to. He was finding it hard to come up with money for cat food, kitty litter and flea powder. And the fleas! In his rugs, his bed, his clothes, breeding in the couch! He had just gotten rid of the  kittens from the last batch and she had the nerve to present him with five more.

Well,  he wasn't going to stand for it any longer. He opened the drawer, took out his hammer and headed back outside. He hoped to catch her before he lost his nerve. Why he would lose his nerve was a mystery to him. After all, he'd killed hundreds of cows with a hammer. That's the way it was in the old days. Nowadays the government ran the show. A bullet. Saner, they said,  more humane. Hah! Back when I was butchering, I never missed with that short handled hammer. They dropped and were disposed of real quick. Why, I've seen cows stagger right out of the slaughter house when they were shot. That's the government for you. They stayed down when I used my hammer.

"Here kitty, Here kitty, kitty, kitty." He crooned in his sweetest voice, spying her under the step. He made a move toward her and the cat ran.

 "Damn," He threw down the hammer and stomped back into the house. She'll be coming in soon, got to feed those damn kittens, he thought. He felt his temper rising. He hated it when he was thwarted. He kicked at his dog, cowering on the rug in front of the stove. How he hated it when someone or something refused to obey him. He felt his rage boiling out of control,  began swearing and cursing.

He strode down the hall, angrily yanked open the closet door and stared down at the new arrivals. So she won't come to me when I call. Well I'll teach her a lesson she won't forget. He scooped up the five kittens and carried them back down the hall and out the front door. He dropped them on the step, watching as the kittens began to howl, crawling over each other as the cool night air hit them.

 He picked up his hammer and waited. He didn't have to wait long for the mother cat to arrive in response to the tiny screams. Growling low in her throat she darted past him to sniff her little ones. He grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and shook her.

"I've got you now," he laughed, his anger tempered by his cowardly act. He took her out to the back of the building. Still holding her firmly by the neck, he pushed her head down on the cement patio. Rage and bitterness of old hurts welled up with each blow of the hammer, as he struck her repeatedly until, finally, she grew limp in his hands.  Then he felt release, a letting go as he stared down at the mother cat's body.  No more kittens. It was over. He dropped the hammer and went in search of a shovel. 

He dug a small hole under the oak tree, placed her body in and covered it.  He went in the house, past the tiny kittens on the step, barely noticing them. He made himself some popcorn and watched television for a while. His eyes growing heavy with fatigue, he finally went upstairs to bed.

He arose bright and early the next morning as usual. He set down a saucer of milk for the cat, then remembered he didn't have to feed her anymore. He ate his breakfast of cold cereal and headed out back. He planned to get the rest of the leaves raked up before it turned any colder.

Funny I didn't see the kittens, he thought. Then he smiled. Maybe something came and lugged them off. He heard a sound behind him, turned and sucked in  his breath.. The mother cat sat on the pile of leaves he'd just raked, teeth bared, growling. He stood frozen, disbelieving. Then the cat bent her head, picked up a kitten in her mouth and disappeared.  Must be getting old, he thought. I know I killed that cat.  Wished I hadn't done it, now. That's some strong mother cat, got good instincts. I feel kind of sorry I did it. He tried to push back his feeling of remorse and failed.

"Here kitty. Here kitty, kitty, kitty." He called for her throughout the day, but the cat had disappeared, nowhere to be found.  His heart filled with remorse, finding the cat became an obsession with him. He searched for weeks, asked all the neighbors if they had seen his mother cat. His dreams woke him in the night, nightmares of multicolored cats carrying short handled hammers, stalking him, accusing him.

  His neighbors took pity on him, being so old and losing his precious pet. They soon  began arriving with kittens and more kittens, multicolored like their mother, until his house was overrun with cats.  They bred like rabbits until there wasn't enough money to feed them all. They became living nightmares, following him through the house. They gathered in his bed at night, ,  watching as he tried to sleep. Along with insomnia, he lost his appetite, then his mind began to play tricks on him. He could see the mother cat, growing larger every day, carrying a short handled hammer, watching him with hungry eyes as he grew steadily weaker and weaker.