The Writer’s Corner features poetry, essays, short stories, satire and various fiction and non-fiction from SCAD Atlanta students. To submit your own work for the Writer’s Corner, email features@scadconnector.com.
“Fat Cat Owns 23 Old Ladies” by Caitlin Havens
She adopted me on Nov. 3, 2012. Her orange fur was neatly brushed back. There was no sign of a single knot. Grey eyes considered my blue, mixing as the hue of a slightly cloudy day. Her pink, padded paw hit my knee as a sign to follow her. My feet were tingly when I put my weight on them. It felt like they weren’t there. A yellow string was attached to my belt loop, the other end was attached to my new owner. I followed close behind, looking back at my other brothers and sisters one last time.
I was put in an enclosed area for the ride home. Metal bars of horizontal and vertical direction took over my vision. The bumps we hit juggled me around, forcing my fragile body on each wall.
Her pretty orange fur glistened in the sunlight. Staggered crinkles of a candy bar wrapper interfered and acted as static to the radio. Her face turned towards me then her vision shifted to the sugary sweet lightly caressed by her paw. My lips that were once dry, were now slightly damp from my tongue anticipating a bite. She put it down in the cup holder, directly in the sun. It was left there to melt.
When we stopped, I cowered in the corner of my enclosure. A big door opened, allowing the sun to finally hit my skin. It felt like when you sit by the fire after a cold day of playing in the snow. Fingertips burning with happiness, leaving tiny specks of cold left over in your pores.
Her pink, padded paw guided me to exit my safety. My back held on to the wall tighter than my nervous lips were pursed. She rubbed her fur against my skin as a sign of comfort. My tongue met her paw and her paw caressed my face.
Her claws dug into the collar of my shirt and pulled me to her. My bare feet hit the hot ground, giving me a stronger sensation of a cold burn.
Inside was full of human food and cat food. She saved the healthy human food for me and got the unhealthy cat food for herself. I began to explore but was cut off shortly after my first five steps. My collar was dug into, once again, and I was dragged to a tall standing white door. The pattern of wooden craters was a repetitive one. The golden ball centered in the middle of the door was shining in the light. She turned the ball and opened the door to a world of my own.
Except it wasn’t my own. There were twenty-two other women in there. A sea of wrinkle and gray made a nice balance of color. The walls were painted in an orange that matched her fur, and we were her grey eyes.
