I don't think Macy was very creative when she was six. My reasoning came from what she named me at that age, Cat. I was Cat the cat, which was a constant joke among the family. I got my revenge though, by having all my friends, along with myself, call her Girl.
How Girl became who she is today, I have no idea. From the most plain six year old, she grew into an artistic, sweet, preteen who loved nothing more than to get a handful of paints and engulf her walls in art. Everywhere in her room were beautiful pieces that, in my opinion, really should go in a museum or something like that. I hoped she grew up to be an artist, so this skill wouldn't go to waste. She really was good... unlike Cooper.
Cooper was six. One day, he got the sudden idea that it would be fun to use Girl's paints on me, which resulted in a very long bath for both of us. Ever since I've been extra cautious around him. It's not that I don't like him, I just don't trust him, especially if Mom and Dad or Bessie aren't around.
Mom and Dad work a lot. Dad's a "doctor" which I think is like one of those vet people but for human's. Mom is a consultant, and I almost never see her because she's always going places way out there. Girl says Mom doesn't like us, and that's why she's not home all the time, and sometimes I have to agree. Mom yells all the time when she's home, and lately she's been using the word "divorce" quite a bit, and I know that's bad, even if I don't know what it means.
At least nobody's upset with Bessie, who's not technically part of the family. She's the Nannie, and she's here more than any of the other adults. She cleans and cooks and takes care of Cooper. I like her a lot. She's very sweet and pets me all the time, and she talks to me too, not that the rest of the family doesn't.
I'm pretty sure that the family uses me as a stress tool, because they're always talking to me about their problems. Especially Girl. She's always telling me about one problem or another. Not that I'm complaining, it's nice to be talked to like a really person, unlike the, "Who's a good kitty?" that I get from all the people that visit us.
I mean honestly, I'm not stupid.
"I mean, she's never home, when she is she always yells, and I'm pretty sure she's cheating on Dad. She even told me that she wasn't in love with him anymore, and that she wants a divorce. That evil woman doesn't belong in this family."
Yeah she probably doesn't, I thought to myself, but the kid had to give Mom some credit. She's always away, and I know work stresses her out, she's told me all about it.
"And don't even get me started on what she's told me," Girl said, "one time she got mad over nothing, and she screamed that she wanted a divorce for hours. I know you remember that too, Cat, because you were there."
I gave a small meow of confirmation.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I hope they get a divorce. Heather doesn't deserve Dad."
She'd been calling Mom "Heather" for the past month or so, ever since the woman left to go attend to some business in California. Actually, everyone did now, which probably would be a nasty surprise for her once she got back home. The kids used to call her Mom, Dad called her Darling, and Bessie called her Mrs. Lynn. Now it was all "Heather." Somehow I had the feeling that calling her first name was going to come off as pretty disrespectful.
"Seriously, look at the two of them. Heather is always yelling, she's never here. I don't even really know her anymore. Dad's here way more often, he takes days off work to be with us, he has never yelled at us in the past, like, four years, and he's a great cook. You've had his chicken, you know."
I mewed my agreement, Dad's chicken was good.
Girl sighed, "Well, what do you think, Cat? Does it look good?"
It took me a moment to understand what she was talking about before I realized that she had finished painting. Now where two kids had been painted looking at the stars, was a big, blue butterfly with hints of purple in it's wings.
I got up from Girl's bed, walking up to the wall to inspect her artwork. It was better than anyone else her age could do, I'd give her that, but it was about average for her. I'd seen better.
"I know," she whispered, "I need to try harder."
Nodding my approval, I hopped back onto her bed, circling a space before laying down again.
"What do you think of a big wolf to cover it up?"
I nearly jumped back up, making Girl give a small laugh. I hissed angrily, upset with her for suggesting such a thing.
"Sorry, Cat," she apologized, walking over to pet me, "Didn't mean to scare you."
Scare me? You offended me.
She giggled like she knew what I was thinking before leaving the room, closing the door behind her. Yeah, thanks, now how am I supposed to get out? I listened to her footsteps as she left the room, getting back up only to settle down by the door. Now when somebody came back in, I would be the first to know.
It was night by the time Macy came back into her room, nearly pushing me into the wall as she opened the door. I gave a meow of protest, making her give a small giggle. "Sorry Cat," she whispered, "I forgot you were in here."
Wow, thanks.
She reached down and scooped me up in her arms before setting me down on the edge of the bed. "There you go," she said, her voice slurring from a need to sleep, "you can get all comfy now."
She then nearly fell on to her mattress. I got up from where she sat me, walking over to her head and sitting down, covering her eyes with my fur. "Cat," she mumbled, trying to gently push me away, "get up, you dumb thing."
Dumb? Okay, I'm offended, you can sleep alone.
I hopped off her bed, walking through the small crack in her door and out into the hallway. I heard her call after me, soon beginning to impersonate a mouse to fool me into coming back in. Yeah right, like that was ever going to happen. Honestly, I'm not stupid.
Squeak! Squeak!
But... maybe it was a mouse. It sounded pretty real to me. I turned around, silently trotting back. Silently squeezing back into Girl's room, I gazed around, looking for the source of the noise. Suddenly, I was picked up, and I automatically knew that it was just one of Girl's tricks. I let out a meow of protest as she set me back down on her mattress. "Silly Cat," she whispered, "you left me."
What did you expect? You called me stupid.
After a few seconds of her watching me, I reluctantly settled down, resting on my head on my paws to get ready for a nice, long nap.
But instead, I was interrupted by Bessie, who ran into the room, tears streaming down her face. "What's wrong?" Girl asked, looking up at the nanny, "Are you okay?"
"It's your parents!" Bessie practically yelled, "I just got the call! They.... they're dead."
YOU ARE READING
Cat.
FantasyCat was, well, a cat, who was named by Macy, who was only six when the family had adopted her. For another six years the group had lived happily, but everything changed when the parents suddenly died in a car crash, leaving Macy and her little broth...