Cat the Fox
by Michael Anthony Delaney
       Chapter I
It was like falling asleep. Everything around her was slowing down and melting into Dark. She was aware of the sounds around her as she gathered them all together into one giant hum that quickly faded away like a great big bumbling bee that buzzed by her ear, then took off lickety-split for the hive. She did not, however, hear her own ribs cracking…or maybe she just ignored it.
It was harder to swallow, and her throat was sore. It was becoming impossible to breathe, but somehow that was okay. She didn’t need to breathe, she thought. She could feel the pressure on her chest like the weight of a big bear claw-scratching tree leaning on her and slowly toppling over, pressing her into the ground. For the first time ever, she knew unquestionably she would be dead soon. She was being crushed and strangled at the same time.
Oh, all of this makes me so sad I can hardly continue. I just want everything to stop, so I can cry–cry for her because she is so sweet and nice and good and innocent. She loves her babies (and they love her) and she has never done anything to anyone to deserve this kind of treatment, yet she is made to endure all of this. Where is the fairness in her suffering?
I can’t believe that anyone could or would do this to her. It makes me so sad, so very sad, that I do cry. I’m so sorry for her. I picture her being full of life and in happy times. Then I think about how cruelly she is being treated. I want to apologize to her for all the cruel acts anyone has ever done to anyone throughout the world…throughout history. I cannot stand to think of her being in pain or being afraid or sad or alone, but she is all of these right now.
If I could, I’d take away the bad things and leave only the good things for her, but I don’t have that power and she doesn’t have that power. It’s like the saying goes, “You can control your destiny sometimes and sometimes your destiny is simply beyond control.” I know for a fact everything doesn’t always go the way it’s supposed to.
Normally she was so high spirited, but she fought this pressure for only a second…only at first. This man-made contraption was more powerful than anything she had ever encountered, and she knew it immediately. As she lay paralyzed–frozen–caught in the trap–her thoughts flashed…
She came from a good-sized family. Her mom and dad had a litter of three males and two females. Sometimes the boys played rough and would gang up on the girls. The girls could take it–they were tough too! Sometimes she got hurt, but the pain she felt now was horrific and yet she wasn’t frightened. Instead, she felt calm, at peace. This ugly, violent act happened so fast she couldn’t even yelp. Yet everything seemed to progress slo-o-ow-ly. She thought about her three kits: her little boy Beau and the girls Rayne and Autumn, and how she loved them and would miss them. (Beau likes macadamia nuts; Rayne has the prettiest auburn hair, and Autumn is just funny–she wanted to wash the “rust” out of Rayne’s hair.) She thought about their nice log home–it was so cozy with all of them living there together. Her kits were her life, especially after their father “disappeared.” He, too, had been caught in a trap and died, but she never told her babies–they were too young to understand anyway. She wondered if this was the way her mate had felt. She had seen him trapped. It was horrible. She had seen the scared-crazed look in his eyes. She was scared too. She wanted to help him–she tried to help him, but he didn’t want her help–he just wanted her to go away and let him die alone.
He was trapped and it killed him. Now she was trapped, and it was killing her. “Funny,” she thought, “it’s like falling asleep.” Everything around her was slowing down and melting into Dark. She stopped breathing. It was the end. She gave up trying to live.
Chapter II
       He was a typical average guy. He was just having a typically bad day that day not so long ago when he went to work. Some days he hated his job – all the days he went to work, in fact. Today he was feeling lousy. He was preoccupied with everything except his work. Typical! He passed his exit. Caught in traffic, he had to drive an extra 12 miles to get back. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rear-view mirror and saw how fat he was. He saw how raw his face was from shaving that morning. The hair on his head was thinning but he had plenty of hair growing out of his nose and ears. He knew that nothing he did was right. He was just here–passing time–day by day. Once a week he washed his socks and pants and shirts and underwear all together and then dried everything together on “High.” He was your typical wrinkled slob.
He dropped a box of parts at work and they scattered all over the place and just when he had everything picked up, he dropped the box again. What a mess. Nothing ever went right for him. (He even had to use “white-out” about 100 times to write this story. Jerk!) He had done his job of assembling parts thousands of times but for some reason today was not a good day. The “product” was supposed to be assembled like this: Flange first, then Spring, followed by Rivet, and finally the Clips. Four simple steps. This particular day was like his first day on the job. He was doing this: Flange first, then Rivet, Clips, and Spring. He had done this for quite a while before he noticed his mistake (thanks to his supervisor breathing down his neck, who caught his error and made him go back and fix his goofed-up work.)
That night when he was at home in bed he lay there thinking about his assembly mistakes. He hoped that none of the bad product made it to the Packaging Room and out into the world.
Hmmmmm. He had in fact fixed all his mistakes, he thought. Every single piece that he screwed up he had definitely fixed! Every single one! Not one had gone undetected. All of them were now correct.
Perfectamundo! He was having a typically bad day but at least he caught his mistakes and corrected each one. Each and every single stinking last one. He knew if even one of those products made it to Retail, the consumer could experience a totally majorly uncontrollable malfunction. He could now fall asleep knowing he had righted a wrong. He was very pleased with himself. His work was still as good as always–YES! As he reached up to turn off the light over his bed, he bumped it off its stand, sending it crashing down, just missing his head.
“Whoa! That’s the third night in a row that’s happened.”
He fixed the light and rolled over and went to sleep, unaware that his car keys were still in the ignition of his locked car waiting for him to begin a brand-new typical day.
Chapter III
Foxes are members of the dog family. Cat was more feline–delicate and graceful–than any other fox. She had emerald eyes and soft-as-a-whisper angel hair. Also, she was gifted with a particularly beautiful tail, and she knew how to use it. She could wrap it around her babies on a cold night  and they could all stay warm. She was so beautiful that you just wanted to pet her and hold her, but you knew that you couldn’t get that close to her. She wouldn’t let you. Unless of course she wanted you to. Then she could cuddle up and purr like a kitten, just like she did with her babies.
It was her mom who named her “Cat”–a very fitting name. Cat the Fox: the independence of the feline, the loyalty of the canine, the cunning of the foxine. She was the very best of all three. Her dad always said, “She is the prettiest little fox blessed with nine lives–make that 900 lives–that I’ve ever seen.” He thought she was lucky. She was a survivor and that is definitely something she tried to instill in her kits (as you will see later in a story about Rayne).
When she awoke everything seemed fuzzy. Had this trap thing all been a dream? A dream gone bad? No! She could feel the pain in her ribs and throat, so it was no dream. She’d been unconscious, but for how long? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days?
When her eyes could finally focus she looked around and saw pieces of the trap scattered everywhere. What a mess. The flange was flung, the rivet popped, the clips collapsed, and the spring was sprung. It seemed that everything that could go wrong–did. It was as if some guardian angel moron put this trap together with the sole purpose of its totally and majorly uncontrollably malfunctioning.
She was lucky! Sometimes things work out with no rhyme or reason. Someone must have been watching over her. Someone who knew that her babies needed her. Yes sir, this time she was real lucky.
As she thought about it she knew this incident–this brush with death–had changed her life forever. No longer would she take anything or anyone for granted. She would enjoy life and living and giving and the beauty of nature all around her. But right now she just wanted to be with her family. They were anxiously waiting when she got home: Autumn, Rayne, Beau, her three beautiful babies. They were starting to worry because their mom was gone for so long. Those little kits didn’t suspect what or all she’d been through that day. They couldn’t see her bruised ribs or feel her sore throat. The only telltale things that actually showed were her scraped knees and elbows that she got from scrambling away from the trap site. They didn’t question her as to where she’d been all day or what she’d been doing. They were just glad she was home now.
“We love you, Mommy,” they all yipped.
She cried. “And I love you too.”
There were a few questions, however, that did come up. As quick as he was handsome, it was Beau who began the interrogation. “Mommy, what’s for supper?”
“When do we eat,” chimed in Rayne.
“We’re starving, Mommy, aren’t you?” asked Autumn.
Cat smiled. In her heart she knew it was just so good to be home. It was just so good to be alive. She answered their questions 1,2,3: “Anything you want. As soon as the potatoes are done. Not anymore.” Above all else, it just felt so good to be loved!
I’m sure you know what I mean. Okay, so what I mean is this: all living things need and want to be loved, and the person who is telling this story (which is me) would never do anything to hurt the person who is listening to the story (which is you) because I love you. Get it? Got it? Good night my baby.
Good night.
I love you.