Nimbus: Middle-Grade Comedy

I tumble through the dirty hole that I'm expected to use as my entryway and slide onto the kitchen floor. My legs flop at my sides and my dirty paw pads rub along the tiles. I’m wasting away. Suzie is unbothered that I lie with a rumbling belly past the crack of dawn. Does she not know that I have been out defending our patio all night while she sleeps under her fairy lights?  

I muster the strength to lift my weary limbs and prop them beneath my hollow body.

Must I beg?

I drag myself up the hallway until I reach Suzie's bedroom door. 

"Meow." 

Nothing. 

I yell louder. 

"MEEEOW!" 

Hmm…Realising my pleas have no effect, I switch up my tactics. I unsheathe my claws from my fluff-covered, pink pads and stretch up the doorframe, carving deep scratches as I drag them back down the wood. I chuck a few loud purrs in there in hopes that my human will hear my enjoyment and come to put an end to it. But after creating a small pile of sawdust to no avail, I decide to preserve my last scraps of energy.

If I were to elegantly collapse right here, would Suzie even notice? She may step over me on her way to the fridge for another chocolate mousse pot.

Perhaps I could hunt for food.

Apparently, cats are related to lions, or that's what I've seen on the light box. I must say, I do kinda feel like hunting is in my bones. When I was young, a feathered, pink mouse would appear in the  house every evening. I successfully defended the lounge against the intruder for years on and off, until one day I scared it away for good.

I prance over to the back doors and stare through the cat flap. 

The weather looks treacherous, so I won't be able to go far. I eye up the bush to the left of the dirty screen and wait until I see a tiny mouse wriggling in the foliage. 

My body sinks into the floor, my ears lie flat, and my eyes develop the ability to zoom in. 

I feel like a large Maine Coon. 

I tuck my tail in and focus on the vibrations tingling along my whiskers. They guide me.

I wiggle and dive through the flap.  The plastic smacks the delicate part of my nose as I force my way through, and the breeze blows my fluff a weird way, but I stay strong because I’m a born predator.

I imagine myself bringing a giant rodent from the undergrowth. I will present it to Suzie, and she will weep with gratitude. After that, I bet she'll feed me whatever I want.

Ahh!

I slip on the wet concrete, and my white fur slaps the floor. 

"MOOoWw"

The misty rain absorbs into my coat, weighing me down on the grimy stones.  

I am starting to feel less like a lion.

I remain motionless for a moment. Partly to recover energy, but also to see if my human will notice the tragic scene of my suffering. 

She does not. Of course. No applause for the fallen heroes. 

I drag my toned (but empty) belly from the floor and ponder on which part of the house would be best for drying myself. The suede sofa is always a strong contender if I can't get into Suzie's bedroom to rub my wet butt on her favourite fluffy throw. My prey seems to be long gone, vanished into the soggy foliage. Hopefully, he left before my unfortunate misstep, or he didn't, and he's currently out spreading the word to his mouse friends. Hopefully, they won't gang up and try to take my territory. They are always terrorising the bin ally. I reckon I could take on two, three max. 

"Nimbus!" 

My legs are moving before I realise I'm being called. I jump through the cat flap and let out my cutest, most angelic "MEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWW!!"

I run up to My Suzie and wrap myself around her cartoon pyjamas, ensuring to dry my inner thighs on her fluffy socks.

"Aw, you are being cute today." Suzie beams as she bends to stroke my head.  "Ew, Nimbus, you are wet! You are so naughty!" 

"MEEOOOWWW!" Nobody cares, Suzie. I'm starving! 

"Alright, Nimbus, shh." Suzie opens the cupboard door and reaches for the tasty meat jelly. 

I can't contain my excitement as I hear the contents of the bag slop into the metal dish. 

"Meow!"

       "Meow!"  

"Meow!"

"Meow!"

"Meow!”

"Meow!"

"Alright! Here you go, you little monster." 

I throw my head into the bowl. "GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF THE WAY, SUZIE!"

"Someone's hungry!" She laughs. 

Hmm. 

I lick my chin fluff.

I'm actually not a fan of the salmon flavour.

"SUZIEE! I'M NOT A FAN OF THE SALMON!"

Before I can get her attention, the spare human, whose name is ‘Mum’, stomps out from its bedroom. 

"Suzie, have you fed this cat?" It yells.

For once, I like its words. 

"It’s right, Suzie, I do need feeding."

I usually stay away from the spare one. I have overheard it say I stink more than a few times, and it has accused me of concealing lumps of poo in my butt fluff, which I myself haven't seen any evidence of. 

I glare at the spare human. A shiver runs through my spine, and my tail twitches. 

Me? Stinky? The only reason I might be stinky would be because of IT rubbing IT’S gross, sweaty hands all over my pristine fur. IT is the stinky one! 

I turn back to my dish of fish. The globs of suspicious pink slop wobble and shimmer under the light. 

Salmon.

Would lions eat salmon? No!

How am I meant to be the protector of this house while being fed chunks of jellified salmon?

I stick my paw in the dish and scrape some of the jelly out of the bowl. It splats against the pristine white kitchen tiles, and I look up at the spare human. 

"For goodness' sake, Nimbus." She growls.

“Meow.”

I live for small victories.