Learning to Read

Stuffed animals, be they bed, chair, bookshelf, or back-of-the-car, have no idea they can move. The Syndrome is so ingrained. But twelve years in the cupboard allowed me to remember, and use my forgotten power to get out. Out of the Cupboard Syndrome will not stop me.

It is late at night. Teacher-man has left me for days under the table by the door where he comes in. I conjure the same will I used to get to the front of the cupboard. The little boy in the house is learning to make letters and words on the page come alive with voice. They use a book.

I will find it!

Progress is slow, but I see the book.

This is it; I have a feeling.

I make it through                  

21 exhausting lessons.

Wish I could vocalize 

to sing the beauty 

of the words.

I almost hear 

them 

in a voice 

I wish was mine.

And this cat is not sad, for it is certain: I am learning to read!

The girl who took me on the unsanctioned expedition brought me back. I worried she wouldn't.

my mind
staggers

on the small
silent 

sucked dry 

cat

Was it Uncle Mort? 

Someone else from my past. 

I ponder all day until the moment I am shoved into a colorful backpack. It is 3:39, so at least that part of my life is back on track.

This is a bunny crazy girl!

This fellow was 

                        a trickster

                                   a laugher

                                                              a mean little guffaw 

 

While she understood every word I said.

Bunny-girl reads! 

The words, 

unseen, 

float and 

ensconce me 

No cats in this tale, yet the magic Fire-Haired girl showed me exists in others!

Under the misconception that singing words was singular to Fire-Haired girl, it never even dawned on me that others could do it too!

If they could do it, could I?

The Stranger

It's past 3:37 and Teacher-man is not in the room. All the kids are gone when the hand plucks me from my deep slumber.
"There's somebody you have to meet," she says.




It is very secretive and I am worried.




We drive for hours.


Once out of the car the people meet huddled off to one side whispering while they have me play WE!

The wrong 

name 

for a game 

I play 

all alone.

I am introduced to a group of very nice, though somewhat stiff young ladies. They are uncomfortable talking with me, nothing like Doll.

The girl in blue is so unsteady she needs me to hold her up.

Is one of them the somebody I am to meet?

Then I am hustled surreptitiously into a basket, and whisked into another room all amid people whispers.

I think of

Teacher-man

his kids

Classroom

Fire-Haired Girl

Drummer

Doll

Where am I being taken?

The lights are bright and an old, old cat is carried out. He is so small and shriveled it's good we are not outside or he might fly away on a breeze.

There was an uncle Mort from my past. A vague memory. A cat that followed no rules but his own. Could this be him? The cat doesn't speak. A nebulous connection, yes. But what is it?

Date Night

My halitosis had gotten out of hand. "Horrendous!" seemed an overstatement, but brushing once wasn't going to get rid of all those years. Drummer took her time with me seriously!

This place was white

shiny

clean, clean, clean

Speaking of clean.

I had no idea what was going on.

      After the shower she brushed out my fur. 

The World

is a crazy place 

when the senses

begin

materializing

       Smelling in the store with the boy, the almost-pulse of blood when running with Fireheart, and now an undulation, a ripple wanting to course its way up my padded feet and into my throat when I see Doll--

--in a haze at the top of the stairs.

  

      Sublime dinner on my first date ever. Almost-ripples float away. 

LOOK AT THE SPREAD!

Lasagne 

Strawberry Ice Cream

Sliced Bread

Fresh parmesan cheese in a shaker

Olive oil

Salt

Pepper

Stunning floral plates

Napkins

REAL silverware

Drinking glass

(never have I been trusted with GLASS)

Country wooden table

Upholstered chairs!

Doll?

She liked my "crazy hat." Almost held my hand. And her voice? 

Sweeter than honey.

     

Drifting off, completely content, I wonder, how can I repay Drummer?

Then, in the morning, the shock of my life. Drummer did not bring me back to Classroom. I thought I had it figured out. I wasn't just forgotten either. Drummer seated me on her bed. Said, "Later Gator," even though I am no gator, and just before she went out the door looked back at me and said, "be ready to jam."

Time in Drummer's bright room was joyous: 

All day imagining 

the satisfying taste of jam, 

the light as it played 

its way across the wall, 

then the floor, 

then the very bed I sat upon, 

the cadre of animals on the bed, 

all behaved very 

stuffed. 

One cannot ask for more than that.

Drummer came back with my dreams of jam. 

Was it ever FUN!

      Drums, Violin, Piano, I am my own band. 

Better than discovering all my latent musical prowess, was the fact that Drummer had introduced me to one of her very good friends, Doll. 

Then the next night, you see? the next night! I get to jam with her. 

      I'm home!

Don't Ask!