Casanova

by Medina, Edward

  “Cass,” the woman said softly, “never fear.”

  Only Mother called him Cass. The kitten rushed forward and put his eye to one of the holes. He blinked to focus but all he saw was himself. He was laying on a cloth. He was covered in blood. Several other kittens were lying next to him. They were lifeless. A man was examining another kitten.

  “This one’s gone too,” he said.

  Casanova watched as his just born self began to mew.

  “He’s calling for his mother,” the man sadly noted.

  Something moved and blocked the kittens view.

  Casanova ran to another hole and peered through. There was his birth mother. She was beautiful. Her markings were just like his. Looking at her he could see what he was going to become. That made him happy. The sadness he felt was because she was not breathing.

  “I’m his mother now,” a woman’s voice said.

  He knew that voice but his view was blocked again. He went to another hole. There was nothing there. He desperately ran to another. There was Mother in her shop. She was cradling him in her arms as they both rested in her rocking chair. Mother was reading to him as she often did. He blinked and she was talking to him as she puttered about. Casanova loved the sound of her voice. He blinked again and there was Mother feeding him medicine when he was sick. Mother’s care is the best care.

  One more blink and she was gone.

  Casanova felt the loss deeply. He didn’t want to look anymore. He didn’t want to see any more. But curiosity being in his being, he looked through one more hole and there he found a black night sky and a moon. It was big, and round, and bright. Almost too bright for his eyes to view.

  “This moon is yours,” a woman spoke.

  Although he had never heard it, this voice he knew.

  “This moon is yours,” his birth mother repeated.

  Suddenly the moonlight became blindingly brighter.

  Casanova had no choice but to turn away from the light. The moon outside became brighter still and light began to pour into the box. The kitten backed himself into a corner as the light pushed through all the holes. Each shaft of light found him there.

  “All these moons are yours.”

  Small circles of round white lights began dancing over his body.

  “Every moon has a name. Every moon has a mood. Let them guide you.”

  Little full moons now covered him head to tail.

  “Let them drive your desires. Let them show you who you truly are.”

  Those were the last words his dream mother spoke. The soft echo of her parting words took all the light with them as Casanova fell deeper into a dreamless sleep.

  When the rare October Full Blue Moon rose high in the sky, Casanova woke to his strange new world. In this family arraignment, much like Gwen and Larry’s relationship, there was not much love on display, and everyone had a very specific role to play. Dutiful wife. Faithful husband. Trouble free pet.

  Casanova would have none of that.

  At first Casanova wouldn’t eat. He couldn’t eat. The food did not taste like the food Mother gave him. He hated it. He hated everything about it. The smell. The texture. The taste. Casanova even hated the bowl they put it in. Gwen found it in a yard sale. The bowl had dog faces painted on it. Larry thought that was funny.

  “He has to get used to the food.”

  “He obviously hates this stuff.”

  “Are we supposed to cater to him?”

  “What if he starves?”

  Casanova thought their concern was interesting, so he decided to continue his protest by making their worst fear real.

  He would starve himself.

  Over the next few weeks he watched as they brought him can after can of wet food, and bags and bags of crunchy, dry food. But Casanova would not eat. Or so Gwen and Larry thought. The clever cat was eating small bugs he would find around the house and drinking only what he needed from the water they left him.

  It was on the night of a Full Cold Moon in December when Casanova spied a fat mouse. The bitter cold of winter makes the hungry and the desperate seek food where they otherwise would not. The cold makes a starved animal take risks. There was a small opening in the wall near the wood burning stove. This mouse had found it and made his way in seeking sustenance.

  A cat’s bite is perfectly designed to snap a rodent’s spine. Their teeth are set in a specific pattern to match the vertebrae. Their upper and lower jaws can snap shut with just the right amount of pressure to crack bone. Without any warning the cat pounced and killed the mouse. The victim only let out the tiniest of squeaks before it fell lifeless.

  Casanova wanted to show his prize to Gwen and Larry so much, but they didn’t deserve to receive this gift. This one was all his. Casanova ate the mouse all up, leaving nothing but the bones. He hid those in a small space he had created by tearing the fabric on the underside of the couch. The next night came and so did another mouse. Casanova repeated the process all over again.

  On the third night, the cunning cat moved his bowl of food closer towards the opening in the wall. Casanova waited and watched in silence after everyone had gone to bed. Only the occasional hiss of burning moisture in the wood broke the silence. He watched as a mouse entered. He waited patiently in the dark as the intruder sniffed and explored his surroundings. Eventually the mouse found what the cat had left for him and begin to eat the crunchy kibble in the dog bowl.

  Casanova maneuvered quickly and quietly as he watched his little visitor gorge itself on the easy food. The mouse felt a brush of breath on his back and turned to find Casanova’s fully opened jaws. The fate of the mouse was the same fate as the mice before him and many after. A quick kill, followed by a carnivorous devouring, and completed with a hasty burial of bones in the recesses of the couch.

  The next morning Larry stepped into the food bowl as he passed the stove. After much cursing and discussion, it was decided that this was a positive development.

  “At least he’s eating.”

  “Finally.”

  “He must be happier with it there.”

  “Then I say we leave it there.”

  Casanova watched the exchange and though he couldn’t understand all the words, he sensed that these simple creatures weren’t very intelligent and could be easily manipulated.

  When the Full Flower Moon came in May, Casanova longed to be outside. The colors he saw through the windows were so inviting and the smells were intoxicating. He needed to be outside. He needed to run through all the new growth. But the window could only be open so much. The screen always had to be in place. Escape from this prison was not advised though he attempted several times.

  He tried pushing his head through the blockade. He tried biting at the mesh. The first ended in a wave of splashed water. The other ended in a spanking. Both resulted in isolation in the windowless basement. None of these things would deter him. He needed to be outside. If there was an unattended door he would try to zip through it. If a screen blew out a window he would try to leap through it. Casanova would not and could not be incarcerated.

  All these constant rebellions and attempted escapes began to worry Gwen and Larry.

  “What if he gets out?”

  “He’s not going to run away.”

  “What if he dies in the woods?”

  “Then he dies in the woods.”

  The arguing went on like that every time an escape attempt was made until a neighbor knocked on the door. At first he came with a noise complaint. After hearing the couple’s plight he made a suggestion. One week later the mailman brought Gwen and Larry a box. The couple was very excited and opened it quickly.

  Casanova was immediately suspicious.

  The package contained a black plastic collar with a bulky mechanism attached to it. The c
ollar was obviously made for a larger animal because Larry had to bore a new hole into it to make it fit tightly on Casanova’s neck. The cat immediately hated it and began trying aggressively to remove it. Gwen had the other smaller device that came in the box in her hand and as Casanova squirmed she pushed the only button on it.

  A shock wave shot through Casanova and stunned him. It felt as if someone had punched him hard in his chest and head at the same time. Casanova was still reeling from the first wave when another came and knocked the breath out of him. Larry had wanted to try the new toy, so he took the remote from Gwen and pushed the button himself.

  Casanova could hear the couple laughing.

  There would be no more jumping on counters. There would be no more scratching on anything other than his scratching post. More importantly for Gwen and Larry there would be no more attempted escapes beyond the set perimeter of the house itself. For Casanova there was only one undeniable reality. He was now a tortured prisoner in the place he was supposed to call home.

  The evening the Full Thunder Moon came in July it brought a vicious electrical storm with it. High winds pelted the cabin with sheets of rain. Flashes of lighting lit the night bright. Rolling thunder shook the cabin with wave after wave of booming sound.

  For the first time Casanova felt a moon coming before it arrived. In the days and nights before it came he had restless sleeps, his skin itched, and his fur crawled. He was uncomfortable in his own body. His head hurt and his spine ached. No matter how far he stretched his body and flexed his growing claws he could find no relief.

  As the storm raged through the day Casanova tried to sleep but rest would not come. By sunset, he was beginning to drift off a bit but each sharp crack of thunder would shake him awake. When night fell he finally closed his eyes and slept, but it was not to last. He was jolted from his sleep when Larry grabbed Casanova, removed his shock collar, and put him back in the box that brought him to the cabin in the woods.

  “I don’t like this.”

  “What are we supposed to do?”

  “It’s cruel.”

  “It’s necessary.”

  Casanova and the box were soon out in the rain. The noises were so much louder and the rain was pushing its way inside the box. Casanova lost his footing when the box was tossed onto the backseat of Gwen and Larry’s car. Doors were slammed shut and the already running car lurched forward.

  Casanova was confused and frightened. No one spoke to him. No one explained to him what was happening. Mother always spoke to him. She always warned him when things were going to change. Perhaps they were taking him back to her. Perhaps they were abandoning him. Perhaps they were taking him to a certain death.

  Casanova tried to escape. He scratched at the box. He tried to tear at its thick cardboard walls. He couldn’t gain any traction because the box kept sliding across the seat as Larry navigated the wet road. Casanova arched up and pushed his back against the top of the box. Again he couldn’t gain enough of a footing to push the top open.

  Casanova was desperate for help. He looked through the holes like in his dream. There was nothing to see and no one there to help. The exhausted and scared cat curled up into a ball in the corner of the box. He cried and mewed a little and then quietly awaited his fate.

  When the box opened next, bright florescent light blinded the cat. Warm dry hands reached in and pulled him out. These were caring hands and they smelled familiar to Casanova. They weren’t Mother’s hands, but they somehow reminded him of her. They weren’t female hands, they were male. As he began to regain his faculties Casanova realized it was the smell of the man’s hands that was familiar.

  They smelled of medicine.

  “Having been locked inside the house he naturally began to spray and mark his territory,” Casanova heard the man say to Gwen and Larry. “We’ll take care of this tonight and you can pick him up in the morning.”

  Casanova felt a sharp pinch on his left-hind quarter and then he became dizzy and sleepy. There were no dreams in this sleep. There were no thoughts of any kind. There was just the deep black of unconsciousness and while he drifted in that darkness, Casanova was neutered by veterinarian Charles Stravage at the request of his owners, Gwen and Larry Talbot.

  It would take Casanova three weeks to fully recover from this ordeal. During those three weeks he rested often, endured the lingering pain, and spent quite a deal of time watching Gwen and Larry. During those three weeks Casanova also began to plot. He needed to be bigger. He needed to be stronger. He would have to wait. Wait until the moon that passed returned at this time again. A year would pass before Casanova could set his plans in motion.

  The time to act came the following July on a sunny and cloudless day, but a Full Thunder Moon was waiting on the horizon for night to come.

  Gwen loved her pretty things.

  Her tastes were not expensive. She was a lover of thrift shops, flea markets, and yard sales. She would find all her simple but beautiful treasures there. One of her very favorite things to find were glass bottles and jars. All sorts of different shapes, colors, and sizes called to her and she could never resist. She used them as decorative decanters all over the house and in the bathroom where she filled them with bubble bath, creams, lotions, and potions.

  That morning, after Larry had left, Gwen did some light cleaning and then headed out to some local yard sales. Casanova waited for her to leave and then he casually strolled into one of the rooms he was never allowed in, the master bathroom. Gwen had forgotten to close the door. She was about to when the cat distracted her. She never remembered to go back and check if she had.

  Casanova jumped on the bathroom counter and carefully snaked his way around all the bottles and what not crowded there until he found what he was looking for. The aqua blue Mason jar filled with Gwen’s scented bath cream. She always kept it on the corner of the counter top. Closest to the tub. Closest to the doorway. Casanova knocked the jar off the counter with a swipe of his white paw. It smashed on the floor and its contents spread quickly.

  Gwen returned home from her day of hunting, put her finds on the kitchen table, and went straight to the bedroom to wash up and change her clothes. Just like she always did. As Gwen turned the corner to the bathroom Casanova leapt from behind the bed and jumped on it. Casanova knew Gwen was afraid of cats. She expressed it enough around him. He only hissed at her once. It was the one time she called him Cass. He really wasn’t that upset, for a moment it felt comforting, but he found the look of fear on her face much more fascinating

  Gwen was shocked to see his hackles raised and his fur full blown. His teeth were bared and he let out a hiss that sounded more like a shriek. Gwen screamed and step backwards trying to get away from the mad cat. Gwen’s cute black shoes with the non-slip heels made contact with the soapy tile floor. Her legs flew out from under her as the weight of her head threw her backwards. Her skull cracked open with the hard impact on the antique lead and porcelain toilet bowl she had purchased at the Rhinebeck Flea Market.

  Casanova watched calmly from the bed as Gwen’s body twitched and the blood from her head wound flowed down the side of the toilet and onto to the floor.

  Larry spent the same day running drills with the New Paltz Volunteer Fire Brigade. He enjoyed living a part of his life in service to others. It was exhausting, but fulfilling work. By the time he was making his way home his arms, back, and shoulders were sore, and his legs felt like jelly. He was looking forward to one of Gwen’s after fire work massages.

  Casanova was playing with a piece of twine in the hallway when Larry came through the door. He called for Gwen as he hung his coat on the hook in the mud room. He called out again as he pulled off his work boots. His wife didn’t respond either time.

  Sensing something was wrong, Larry quickly stepped into the living room. He only caught a quick glimpse of Casanova running across his
path. He never saw the twine following behind the cat. Having been wrapped around the corner leg of the entertainment center, and with the other end clutched in Casanova’s mouth, the cord pulled taught causing Larry to stumble.

  Casanova was thrown forward from the force. He tumbled but landed on his feet. Larry fell forward and landed directly on top of the metal and glass coffee table. It shattered upon impact. Two large shards hit the floor edge first and turned upwards as Larry’s throat came down on them. One lodged against his spine. The other pushed its way straight through the back of Larry’s neck.

  It would be a few days before the police arrived. While he waited, Casanova ate what was available from the open pantry and what was out on the kitchen counters. Eventually the couple was missed and the police knocked on the cabin door.

  Casanova was casually laying on the couch when he heard them knock. He watched as they went from window to window when they got no response. They finally saw Larry’s body on the floor surrounded by his own blood. The two deputies broke down the door and entered with their guns drawn. They searched the house and found Gwen. There was less blood but her twisted body was equally horrific.

  Casanova listened as the two men spoke of a history of domestic violence. They quickly deduced that the scene before them probably began as an argument that turned into a physical altercation that ended in death for them both. They then turned their attention to the innocent cat that had never moved from the couch.

  “Poor fella.”

  One deputy picked him up and Casanova began purring in his arms because that’s what was expected of him.

  “We need to get him to the pound.”

  Both men began petting his head.

  “He’s not going to get very far with that shock collar on.”

  This was the final moment of Casanova’s plan.

  “I’m surprised he didn’t try and eat the bodies.”