Library Cat Page 2

  6. Tedious displays of machismo.

  7. References to Harry Potter while gazing up wide-eyed at buildings.

  8. Laughter at the fact some buses terminate at a place called “Bush”.

  (I really don’t see what’s drôle about the word “Bush”, thought Library Cat. A bush is a perfectly charming creation.)

  Suddenly, there was a voice:

  “Oh my God, is that Library Cat!?”

  “What?”

  “There’s apparently this thinking cat who lives here called Library Cat!”

  “Are you on MDMA?”

  “No seriously!”

  Library Cat eyed the Humans suspiciously. He felt uncomfortable, and overcrowded, his personal space compromised. He wandered into the long grass of George Square to muse on what he’d seen.

  They appear to not understand how a library operates, he thought. Whatever happened to pondering… to learning gently as learning should be undertaken? If only they could see the Towsery. They seem to be subjecting themselves to never-ending psychological torment.

  Library Cat knew that the Human libraries used to be much like the Towsery. But then something called ‘Education Reforms’ happened. Universities started to be sausage factories for the middle-class literati – feeder schools for Penguin Books and PricewaterhouseCoopers. And also, they were no longer free: Library Cat could wander into the Towsery whenever he wished, but apparently these student Humans had to pay great sums of money for the privilege of even crossing the library’s threshold! As such, the Humans often had to work several jobs in order to pay for access to university and the library.

  They’re doing too much! thought Library Cat. They’ll burn out! And they need to stop using the word “like” unnecessarily.

  Then Library Cat had an epiphany: Maybe if they stopped repeating the word “like” unnecessarily, they’ll free up a lot of time. With this time, they can then learn to study properly and take it from there.

  And so Library Cat, self-satisfied in the belief that he’d got his quest to better understanding the Human off to a good start, headed back home to the chaplaincy.

  Enough for one day, he thought as he kneaded his paws in and out of his bed, lapped up some milk, had a scratch of the skirting board and gently fell off to sleep.

  Recommended Reading

  Life’s Little Instruction Book by H. Jackson Brown.

  Food consumed

  1 x piece of bacon; 1 x woodlouse (in the Towsery).

  Mood

  Very Good, though chequered with irritation.

  Discovery about Humans

  They’ve forgotten how to be calm, and forgotten how libraries work.

  …in which our hero

  watches pointless digging

  The next morning, Library Cat awoke with a start. From out in the square, there came a horrendous noise. It made his ears twist back. The Humans were up to something. A peculiar odour seeped in through the gap under the window that smelt like burning and rubber mixed together.

  It sounds and smells like the fourth circle of Hell, winced Library Cat, this is what Dante had in mind, I’m sure.

  He rose and arched his back, blearily stretching his paws before him and lumbered blearily out on to the street to investigate. There in front of him were a variety of Humans, many dressed in bright yellow, while wrestling with pieces of wire and pipe next to a big hole in the ground. They seemed to have dug up a portion of the road for no apparent reason whatsoever. To his right, there was a massive red van from which a great heat seemed to radiate sideward. It was so intense that it almost singed Library Cat’s fur. Inside it, he could see a furnace releasing silky plumes of smoke that unfurled into the sky. Beneath the furnace, there poured a thick back gloop that thudded into a vat like treacle.

  A memory stirred. I remember them from before! They were digging up the same bit of road last week. Why are they back?

  But what was most curious was the sign. Adjacent to all the commotion, the Humans had erected a big triangular notice. To most cats, and Humans, this sign would say “Warning: Human at Work”. To Library Cat, the sign said, “Warning: Incompetent Human Struggling to Adjust Parasol”.

  Ridiculous Humans! thought Library Cat. They dig up the road pointlessly, and erect a sign warning each other against their own insipid attempts at garden warfare.

  Library Cat rubbed the sleep lazily from his eyes with his paw. Yawning, he walked along the pavement to investigate more. From the other corner of the square, a Human was removing poles that had been attached to the side of tenements and was chucking them into the back of a lorry. With each almighty clang, Library Cat upped his pace into a little canter, looking behind himself in fear.

  He couldn’t deal with such foolishness, not today, and the annoyance he felt at being woken up as early as 11.14 am still hadn’t worn off. He looked at his paws. They were lathered with a thick, black, strong-smelling substance. He licked them and gagged.

  He jumped once again as yet another pole was chucked into the back of the lorry.

  Why can’t they just lay the poles down?

  Back by the hole, the yellow Humans were feeding a long, blue pipe underground into which they threaded a long line of cable. The other end of the cable bounced and tweaked with the motion. It made him want to pounce. He edged over to it, claws poised.

  But along came another almighty band as more poles were thrown into the back of the van.

  This is too much, thought Library Cat. I can’t learn from the Humans if they insist on being insane.

  And with that, Library Cat wrote the day off and slept for another fourteen hours.

  Recommended Reading

  ‘Digging’ by Seamus Heaney.

  Food consumed

  Nothing.

  Mood

  Alarmed.

  Discovery about Humans

  At times, they show little consideration toward others, with next to no foresight.

  …in which our hero gets tough

  on crime and eats an ant

  A few days later, Library Cat awoke from under a bush in George Square with quite a start. How he ended up in this spot was rather unclear to him.

  As he started to think back over the time that had elapsed since the road incident, he suddenly felt a gentle tickle upon his leg.

  Strange, he thought. A tic? There, indeed, on the side of his white leg was a tiny black tic, quite at home in its new fluffy surroundings. But something else was amiss. Another tickle was coming from under his left paw…

  Hesitantly, Library Cat raised the paw to lick the underside but instead was given such a shock that he

  sprung three foot in the air from his supine position only to land, a split second later, back on all four paws his lemon-yellow eyes widened and his fur thickly fluffed and standing on edge.

  Directly beneath where his paw had been, was a tiny hole in the soil, much smaller than that which the Humans were digging the other day. From out of the hole there issued a tiny, thin line of jet-black ants, all marching in single file, advancing in a carefully curved line.

  Library Cat was utterly confounded. He didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, the line of ants looked like a tiny lace, being tweaked tantalisingly for his delectation, and this made him want to pounce. But on the other hand, at the same time, he knew it wasn’t a lace but was in fact a miniature, super-organised army going about some deeply mysterious business, and this made him wary. He edged closer…

  Why can’t I hear them? Now the ants were disappearing into the thick bracken, unperturbed by its lumpy denseness, like a river insisting upon its natural course through a great, teeming city.

  Library Cat sniffed them again. They tickled his nose. This time he sprung even higher. How do they know they all want the same thing?

  He reversed on his paws, his rear end arching up sharply, not breaking his gaze from the line, feeling quite beaten. This was overwhelming. He hated how nature could be so over-stimulating sometimes! It was so disc
ourteous of it. Nature was there to be eaten or enjoyed, not to bamboozle and sicken like fungus or mysterious ant armies. Time for food; food would help. And milk. And catnip. Yes, catnip would calm him down…

  With another inspection of his paw to check it was

  ant-free, he turned and trotted restlessly out into the street. The pot-hole puddles were beige and muddy with autumn rain, and things smelt damp. But his mood wasn’t improving. Something else inexplicable was happening in Edinburgh this morning, this time at the hands of the Humans. Strewn everywhere, like little white sails, were various bits of blue paper with the word ‘YES!’ written on them. These were joined, in equal amount, with bits of red paper bearing the words, ‘NO THANKS!’ Some were soggy in the muddy puddles, others were glued to lampposts with other smaller versions of themselves encircling them like a picture frame; many more were in windows, going up and down the tenements; some were on the side of cars; some were even pinned onto the jackets of Humans as little badges…

  It seems that the Humans have adopted a new method of talking to each other, mused Library Cat, rather baffled.

  Library Cat suddenly thought of the ants, and how coordinated they were, and yet they didn’t seem to be talking at all. Instead there was some magical tie between them. It was clear they all wanted the same thing, and they didn’t need to keep reaffirming it. They just got on with the job.

  I wonder if there are ever any dissenting ants? pondered Library Cat. Ants that just break from the line because they’re not fussed about nectaring up the greedy Queen Ant? Maverick Ants…?

  As he walked along the pavement, his paws ruffling up soggy poster after soggy, and he began to think about how many similar ants in the Amazon might have had their precious homes destroyed and pulped to smithereens to indulge this latest Human fad of mass poster-printing.

  Perhaps those ants in George Square were seeking revenge? For all their dispossessed families in the Amazon?

  Then it clicked. Big Things must be happening. Biblio Chat had told him all about how étrange et bizarre the Humans in his country get when Big Things are afoot, especially a few hundred years ago during a bloody class war called “The French Revolution”.

  Yes, Big Things. Big Things were definitely happening. Even the ants seemed aware of the Big Things. This no doubt explained why the Edinburgh Humans had stopped talking to each other with their voices and adopted a new, highly equivocal signage-based system (Humans often favoured passive-aggressive modes of communication when it comes to Big Things, it seemed.)

  Finally, Library Cat saw a clue that might reveal what all the fuss was about, and the very ‘Thing’ which was evidently so ‘Big’. It was a questionnaire, caught up in one of the sharp fangs of the square’s iron railings. He perused it cocking his head to one side:

  DO YOU AGREE WITH THE CLOSURE OF THE LIBRARIES?

  NO? THEN FOLLOW THE MOVEMENT!

  SIGN OUR PETITION!

  Forename:

  Surname:

  Address:

  Do You Own Your Property?

  Date of Birth:

  Ethnic Background:

  Orientation:

  Closing the libraries! thought Library Cat with alarm, his interest suddenly piqued. Never. This cannot happen. This MUST NOT happen!

  Suddenly, to his surprise, Library Cat found himself feeling lighter and more colourful; a Fresher had just stroked him in the correct spot behind the ear, and his ennui had risen and dissipated like smoke in a breeze. He felt energised and impassioned. Yet, as is often the case, he didn’t stop to think about how curious it was that a mood can shift so suddenly, and how the slightest fragment of provocative thought was sufficient to achieve this.

  I am going to join the movement! he asserted to himself, followed by a loud and sonorous “Meow!” (which, to a Human, translated as “Hark!”) He bit the questionnaire off its railing skewer, walked over to the library steps, placed it on the ground and manoeuvred himself square in front of it. With a stretch of his paws, a shake of his haunches, and a twist of his whiskers, he poised himself ready to fill it out.

  But then he realised he had a problem. Yes, you’ve guessed it, Human. He looked down bemusedly at his paws… he didn’t have a pen.

  I’ll “think” the form complete, thought Library Cat, and proceeded to think the form complete as follows.

  DO YOU AGREE WITH THE CLOSURE OF THE LIBRARIES?

  Having thoroughly considered the adverse effects that library closures would exact upon the serendipitous consumption of discarded bacon rind, I wholeheartedly condemn this move. It would be deleterious. The books? The strokes? The chairs… I mean ARE YOU DAMN MAD?

  Forename: Library

  Surname: Cat

  Occupation: Cat

  Address: Library

  Date of Birth: The early twenty-first century

  Do You Own Your Property? If I sit on it, then yes.

  Ethic Background: Black & White / Thinking Cat

  Orientation: Currently west-facing.

  Library Cat felt satisfied. Getting his feelings out made him feel much better. His breathing that had formerly been elevated with excitement began to settle down again. He looked around at the other Humans to see how they were reacting to the news that the library might close. Outside on the library’s great concrete forecourt, there was a lot of shouting. Placards were being waved, and people stood at desks with pens and posters trying to accost passers-by. Some appeared to be offering cake to incentivise enrolment.

  Others shouted down a megaphone that amplified their voices to the level of a landing jet plane, so that they might outdo those around them who were just talking normally. And in the middle of the fracas, a man with a grey beard walked up and down with a board over his front and back shouting that all these ideas were phony and that everyone would go to hell if they didn’t stop and talk to him about God instead; but then even he slid behind a desk and tried to tempt people away from the fire and brimstone with a nice cup of warm tea, for which he required a £1 donation.

  Library Cat’s ears flattened at the jabber of the senseless din. Why don’t they listen to each other, instead of trying to convince others about their own thoughts? Surely they’d learn that their ideas cancel each other out, in the same way that mixing acid with alkali makes water, mused Library Cat with a certain pompous confidence at his glistening comparison.

  He began to feel a little uneasy again. Everyone seemed trapped in their own little bubbles of self-righteousness, while phrases like “common good” and “the people” and “Faslane” flew through the air like tiny javelins. If there was one colour to describe all the people in the scene, it’d be red. And red made Library Cat nervous. Red wasn’t his world; his world was the colours of blue and green… possibly with a hint of taupe.

  There must be a name given to all this caterwauling, mused Library Cat. I wonder what it is?

  “Time for a New Politics!” a voice shouted triumphantly.

  Library Cat sighed. It’s that “Politics” thing. The time has come again. I guess I should get to the bottom of this politics business once and for all.

  So Library Cat sat down in a muddy urn of daisies next to the library café and adopted the stature of a sphinx, proudly guarding the pyramids and ancient secrets on the banks of the Nile. It was the correct posture for thinking deep things, and Library Cat often adopted the sphinx pose whenever there was an especially challenging concept that needed pondering. It was a kind of mark of respect to the great cats of ancient Egypt.

  The great cats who were worshipped as gods by their Human servants as is correct, Library Cat often thought. He closed his eyes, tucked his paws back on themselves, swept his tale close in to his side, and stared to think.

  Who was a Politics? And what does a Politics do? he pondered.

  It occurred to him over time that a Politics made things called Laws. And Laws stopped the Humans from doing Bad Things. Like Cycling on the Pavement, and selling day-old tuna.

  But wh
o actually was a Politics? Let me break the word down… First, there was “Poli-”. Well, “Poli-” or “Poly” comes from the Greek prefix “polýs” which means “many”, thought Library Cat with satisfaction. Yes, like “Polycarbonates” means Many Car Bonnets, and “Polyamorous” means many… well… Cat Best Friends… But what about “-tics”?

  Was that not a tic I noticed this morning, on my white paw? Those annoying blood-sucking creatures? Yes, thought Library Cat, looking back it the tiny lump on his white leg, small and firm like a chocolate raison. I have a tic right here. They have that annoying trait of continually sucking your blood even when you think you’ve licked them off. And then they grow fatter and fatter on your blood. And then there reaches a point when they’re SO engorged by your hard-earned blood – good, honest blood that you’ve worked hard to nourish and oxygenate – that they eventually drop to the floor dead, martyrs to their own greed...

  Now let’s put the words together, thought Library Cat.

  “Poli-” and “-tics”. “Many Blood Sucking Creatures”. The Humans recruit many of these Blood Sucking Creatures to Stop them doing Bad Things. Okay…

  All of a sudden, there was a stir around Library Cat.

  “Library Cat, Smile! Wow, this could be your campaign poster!!!!”

  “Quick, Get the Library sign in behind him!”

  *Click*

  “And again!”

  *Click*

  “Smile!”

  *Click*

  “Any thoughts on the laws you’d pass, Library Cat?”

  Bloodsuckers, thought Library Cat, turning away and heading back to the chaplaincy quite exasperated.

  Recommended Reading

  Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell.

  Food consumed

  1 x ant (mistakenly).

  Mood

  Apathetic. Cynical and lofty.

  Discovery about Humans

  They tend to value their own beliefs above those of others. They have “Laws” where cats have intuition.