Caya's Home

Lonesome Caya

Silence. It's one thing any person, or animal, fears. As you're alone, you tend to let your thoughts wander. You begin to feel lonely, like those you care about won't return. That feeling is all that fills Caya's heart as she stares outside the window of Marie's bedroom, looking toward the driveway, which lies empty and dormant. It's now been a long time since her owners have left. A long time to her, at least. Though the remains of one of Marie's old fashioned alarm clocks reads a difference of 45 minutes from the time they left until now - a clock shattered when Marie knocked the old thing off the high shelf - to Caya, it feels like an eternity. Her playmate is gone. Who will entertain her with toys? Who will chase her around? Who will point a laser across the carpet and the walls, leading to Caya cutely colliding with the wall? No one.

Caya's tail swishes gently as she sits between the glass and the curtain. Outside, the neighbors mow their lawns or leave for work. The neighborhood bullies, the dogs, are let out to enjoy their freedom of the yard. Caya hisses at them from within the comforting confines of her room, as even with her excellent sight, other neighborhood cats do the same. She watches as a few butterflies and birds pass by, before jumping down onto the bed.

Caya lowers her head, pressing her nose and whiskers gently onto the blankets, and she inhales deeply, taking in Marie's scent. She misses her more and more. Jumping down to the floor, to the soft carpeting, Caya paws at her toys that cover it; some tangled in the carpet strands, others not. She swipes at each of them, from the stuffed mouse toys to the ringing bells, but none of them can satisfy nor fill the hole within her which demands playtime and company.

But luckily for her, the door is open. As she strolls quickly through the house, she inspects her other toys, some which scatter the main living room, around a large chest which contains more. Caya sniffs one of them, a remote controlled mouse, which would usually ride across the tiles, bumping into her and scaring her off for a second before she smacks it away, taking the scent of Annie with it.

For a long time more, Caya spends one hour after the next lazing around the home; on the couch, on the floor, in her own small bed she hasn't slept in since it was bought. By the door, the back door, and in front of her bowls. She spends a few minutes even staring up at the cabinets, hoping for a treat that will never come. In Caya's boredom, she lays at the back door, laying on her back as she scratches at the wood, and more specifically, at a doggie door. As Caya's luck would have it, this is mostly a dog neighborhood, meaning nearly every home has a door like this. Though she hates the name of it, it also serves as a cat door. But what frustrates Caya further, leading to rougher swipes on the thick plastic, is a latch keeping it shut in place.

To heck whoever thought to keep this ball of energy inside!

The latch rattles as Caya attacks it without end. Rattling up and down, up and down, slowly, barely, sliding to the side each time. But she remains persistent, and after much effort, and by the end of it, playfully messing with the latch, it manages to unlock the kitty door. For a few moments after, Caya keeps swiping at it. Then she stands up and stretches from hours of laying about, and pokes her head through the door.

Caya's eyes close in a quick, sudden moment of bliss. Her cute little pink nose twitches as the many outside scents greet her. The strong scent of freshly mowed grass. The smell of the plants and flowers of this current summer season. The scent of remains and trails left by other cats. It's all so welcoming to her. And very quickly, all her hopelessness and despair dissipates, and she leaves home.

Lightly thudding down the back stairs, she makes her way across the backyard. The short grass cuts through her fur, between her beans and claws as she strolls across it. Her feet almost seem to sink down into the recently watered soil. With her eyes set high, Caya runs along the side of the house, coming to the side gate, and she speeds into a sprint, leaping up and climbing to the top of the fence. The morning breeze whisks through her fur, over her head and between her whiskers. Caya's free, free like the birds that fly above her, free to go anywhere she wants. She wanders along the fence a while more before jumping down, landing softly and safely into the grass. She runs along the sidewalk, across the street, leaving her scent among the bushes and trees, teasing any cats who are watching her.