—When you find your inner voice, you empower yourself to
become who you must and should be—Kim Sisto Robinson

 

 

 

Our cat, otherwise known as Little Bastard,  is 15 years old.

 

On the hierarchy of power, he’s the Kim Jong at the top of
the mountain slinging out orders like daggers.

 

He’s the king of kings, the big cheese, hot stuff, and all
that.

 

So when we brought another cat into the house, he began
marking his territory immediately like a dominant, controlling, self-centered,
overpowering lion.

 

For example, he sprayed his tainted-ammonia-stinking urine
in every corner of the house.

 

Mr. Liverpool was not a happy Brit…

and I was the one who soaked the beast’s stains with lemon
scented bleach.

 

Little Bastard wouldn’t allow our new cat, Bizzy, upon the
couch, on Mr. L’s lap,  or in the litter
box.

 

He was/is an incredibly naughty, tail biting snot.

 

When the two of them wrestled,  Little Bastard was constantly the one on top
holding Bizzy down with his still-sharp teeth and big fat interbred seven toed paws.

 

For years now, Little Bastard has sauntered around the house
like his shit doesn’t stink.

 

Until yesterday.

 

I watched both of them skirmishing on the carpet.  Fur on fur.
Tabby on Tom.  Whisker on whisker.

 

Growling.
Rolling.  Hissing.

 

Suddenly,  Bizzy was
above Little Bastard strangling him with his fangs—sitting on him with his enormous
charcoal body.

 

He meowed a loud, systematic, infuriating meow.

 

Over and over again as if releasing everything he had been
holding back.

 

It was the first time I heard any noise erupt from his
insides.

 

It was the first time he utilized his meow, his rights, his
power.

 

It was a beautiful, liberating sound.
Bizzy & Little Bastard sitting near each other.  This is a very rare occasion.
Little Bastard was kicked outside for bullying Bizzy.  Naughty Horrilbe Cat.

 

—-NOTE—- I immediately thought of my sister, Kay,
after watching this event unfold.  The
way her voice had been silenced for so many years.

 

But now from the grave, her voice screams out through me.

 

Darling Reader,  have
you found your meow yet?  If not,  Why?

Share