The day Major brought me home, I was eternally grateful. I was young at the time, barely old enough to walk, but I remember some silent force pulling me to her. I remember her picking me up, drawing me close, and smiling affectionately as she patted me on the head. I squirmed away, but couldn't ignore the connection between us. She was genuine and sweet. Though I acted indifferent, I secretly hoped she'd be the one.
And so it was. On a bright and sunny April afternoon, Major took me home for good. I was ecstatic. I couldn't even begin to hold in my excitement. Finally, I would be in a place I could call my own, with a new family that loved me. This was going to be great.
Major and I were inseparable. Even though the summer heat had begun its smothering stay, Major and I played all day long. She marveled at how much energy I had and how quickly I learned to do things. She was constantly rewarding me with what seemed to be an endless supply of delicious foodstuffs. If I grew tired and needed a nap, I'd awake to find Major patiently sitting nearby, waiting with a smile. Though I couldn't tell her, I always appreciated her not going too far. She somehow knew it was still scary for me to wake up in strange place. At night, Major would let me sleep with her. I'd put my head on her chest and drift off to sleep while she chuckled at The Late Show.
Then, in the fall, as though triggered by the changing leaves, things changed for Major and I. The clutter that once made our apartment feel homey and safe was being organized, labeled, and packed away into boxes. Major explained that we "had to go somewhere different now," and that everything would be just fine. I protested as best I could, but it fell on deaf ears, and Major went on with her plan undeterred.
I was more scared than ever when we arrived. This place was huge and everything totally different than our old neighborhood. Different smells, different people, a different life. I hated Major in the instant I realized that I would have to start all over again.
In far too much of a sales pitch, Major showed me around. Her hands reached up in a Vanna White-like flourish as she said, "this is where you sleep, and here is the bathroom." As if I couldn't have figured it out on my own. I noticed there were two other people there, older than Major. She had hugged them when she walked in. Now, they stood looking on as Major gave me the tour, marveling at how "big" I'd gotten. Whatever.
That was when I saw HER.
I had noticed her kind before in our old neighborhood, but I'd never come face-to-face with one of them. Did Major seriously expect me to live here with HER? We were totally different. There was no way we'd ever get along. I silently pledged to myself that I would never even try to be civil; that from now on, I'd exist only to make her life a living hell. I hated the way Major seemed to get along with her so well, as if they'd known each other forever. Didn't she know what she was?! It disgusted me. I stalked off and found a place to take a nap.
Major was gone for long parts of the day. I was stuck with the older two I'd seen, who I'd now figured out were in some way related to Major. The Evil One, as I'd dubbed her, also was there all the time, lounging around and always in my way. As it turns out, Evil disliked me as much as I disliked her. Our venom for each other was mutual and severe. We fought a lot, in loud, heated bouts which almost always resulted in one of us yelping and scampering off bloodied in one way or another. It got to the point where the rest of the family didn't want to leave us alone together. It was hard on me. I only found solace in the increasingly few alone moments between Major and I.
As time passed, things, as they almost always do, found an equilibrium. The older two, though initially averse to my presence, seemed to have discovered a newly found appreciation for me. They cooked delicious food that I couldn't get enough of, and often included me in activities when Major wasn't around. Sometimes I'd go outside and help with yard work, which usually involved me trying to catch bees by the azalea bushes, and the older two laughing at my antics.
Even The Evil One and I had found a middle ground. We kept a suspicious eye on each other, but the fighting seemed to have ceased for the time being. Evil was older than I, so I'd often look to her when I was uncertain about how to act in a given situation. Though I'd never give her the satisfaction of knowing it, somewhere along the lines I'd begun respect Evil. I might have even liked her.
One day, the all too familiar boxes showed up again. I didn't like the looks of it one bit. I cried and cried and begged Major not to do this. But she continued. It was as if she was protected by a force field, my pleadings not nearly strong enough to penetrate. It was different this time though. Major didn't bother packing up any of my things. When I asked her about it, Major would only scoop me into her arms and hold me for a while. She never gave an explanation. She never said a real goodbye.
Then, she was gone. I heard the word "California" a lot, though I had no idea what it meant. To me, California was the enemy. It had taken Major away and was holding her hostage against her will. Everyday, alone in her cell, she dreamed of ways to escape and return to me. I knew this wasn't true though. Major had gone, of her own accord, and I was uncertain if I'd ever see her again.
Almost a year went by and I adjusted to my new life without Major. I was comfortable and well looked after. I would even say I was happy. But every now and again, my thoughts would drift to her. It was the little things between the two of us that had built our bond. I missed the way she'd pick me up after I'd been sleeping. She'd hold me upside down and I'd stretch all my limbs at once. No one else could do it quite like her. I missed the way she'd always let me read over her shoulder, though I couldn't understand the words. I missed her kindness.
The older two had a visitor one day. I heard my name and "California" mentioned several times, and I knew the Major had sent for me. Whoever this visitor was, it didn't matter. He was now merely a vessel of passage back to Major. Back to my true home. My things were packed and the date was set.
The trip to the place called California was terrifying. The details of which I won't utter here. Suffice it to say that I saw, heard, and smelled things that I wouldn't wish on my worse enemy. The comforts of home were stripped from me as I was thrust into a bizarre world of transportation I hope to never experience again. I took small consolation in knowing that, if I survived, I would see Major gleaming like a beacon of light at the end of the darkest tunnel. I would finally be back home.
The two of us are as inseparable as ever. Major tells me I'm her "Hollywood Cat". She lets me climb the tree and flounce around in the lavender plants in the courtyard. After I wake from a nap, I'll let her pick me up for our special stretch that she calls "kitty yoga". She still lets me sleep with her at night, just like when I was little and our lives had newly crossed paths. Though Major gets a kick out of it, being a Hollywood Cat doesn't mean much to me. I'm just glad to be home.
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