Through My Cat’s Eyes

By Emily Hall

Warmth spreads through my body as I stretch out and roll over in the grass. Sun puddles through a window are great, but they don’t come close to the outdoor ones. It’s like I’m one with the Sun. 

I lie there with my eyes closed, basking in that warmth, but then I feel the tickle of an Ant on my front paw. I open my eyes and shake it off, but I happen to catch movement out of the corner of my eye as I do so. I push my whiskers forward and focus my eyes against the glare of the sun. 

A Bird. Landing on the feeder for a late afternoon snack. 

I immediately right myself and assume my crouched, hunting position. My tail skims across the dried summer grass as I flick it furiously back and forth. 

“Ek ek ek ek,” I say. 

The Bird ignores me. He has been taunting me for days, sitting on his feeder, pretending he doesn’t see me. So close, yet so far away. He flits from one side of the feeder to the other, and with each of his movements, I inch ever closer. 

I smell his musty scent. I hear the rustling of his feathers. I swear I can even taste him.

Just as I think this might be the day I get to show this Bird whose Kingdom he’s entered, I hear her voice and feel that light, familiar tug. 

“Sampson… we don’t hunt birdies,” she gently chides. 

That tug I feel reminds me I don’t have quite as much freedom as I’d like. 

The Leash. It tethers me to my Human. She tells me it’s for my own safety, but from where I’m sitting, it seems more like the Bird is the one benefitting most. 

I give one last flick of my tail. A reminder to the Bird that I’m still here. He may be free to fly another day, but he knows who’s King. 

I stand and turn, giving my Human a glare. She smiles at me, reaches her hand down, and wiggles her fingers.

That’s all it takes. I immediately forget my frustration and trot over to her. 

The top of my head meets the tips of her fingers, and I push into her touch. She scritches my head and then uses both hands to rub across the sides of my face. Bliss. I close my eyes and begin to purr. 

Then I hear her rummage in her pocket. My eyes fly open, pupils dilated. I know what’s coming.

The Treat. 

She tears off the top and crouches back down, holding out a tube of the most delicious, most scrumptious, most savory Treat. There are no words to describe it; there are no foods that compare. I could go on and on and on and –

“Here you go, Sampson.” 

– on. I clamp my teeth on the Treat.

“Hey! You can’t eat the package, silly,” she says as she wrestles the Treat out of my mouth. 

I reluctantly let go, and she squeezes some Treat out the top of the tube. I quickly lap it up. To my dismay, she doesn’t let me eat all of it right then and there. She tells me we have to “save some for later.”

As she pulls the Treat away and slides it back into her pocket, I lick my lips. She bends over and gives me one long stroke of her hand from between my ears to the very tip of my tail. She is definitely forgiven for interrupting my Bird hunting. 

It’s at that moment I once again feel the tickle of something crawling underneath my front paw. I pick my paw up and notice several creepy, crawly Bugs scuttling around in the grass. I pick one and follow it as it scurries from grass blade to grass blade.

The Bird might have gotten away, but this Bug is mine. 

After a series of small but quick pounces, I finally have him right where I want him—under my two front paws. I freeze in position for a moment, relishing in my victory. I move my front paws and lean down in preparation to grab that Bug in my mouth, but he’s gone. 

I look up in disbelief at my Human. She grins at me and says,”You’re such a good hunter, Sampy.”

That’s one of the things I love most about her. No matter what I do–even when I steal the loaf of bread out of the cabinet–she always thinks I’m adorable and “good.”

I look back down at the grass and catch sight of the Bug once more. It’s not going to get away this time. 

I crouch back down in the grass, using the taller blades to try and camouflage myself. After a couple tail flicks and a full-body wiggle, I launch myself at the Bug. 

Target hit. 

I quickly put my teeth around it and pick it up in my mouth. It’s wiggling and trying to get free, but my jaw is locked tight. 

I look up at my Human again, this time in triumph. “You did it!” she exclaims. “My fierce hunter.” 

I can tell she’s proud of me.

The Bug is still wriggling around in my mouth, and I realize it doesn’t actually taste very good. Why did I catch this thing again?

Oh, well. At least I’ve proven to myself and my Human that I am the fierce hunter she says I am. 

I drop the Bug back to the ground, and it limps away. 

My Human sits down in the grass beside me. I saunter over to her and climb into her lap. We sit together in silence as I survey my Kingdom, and she scratches my back. 

We both close our eyes and bask in the warmth of the sun once more. After a few moments, she asks me if I’m ready to head back inside. “It’s almost dinner time,” she says. 

I butt my head against her chin—my sign of agreement. She understands the gesture and picks me up in her arms. 

The warmth of the Sun is nice, but it doesn’t compare to the warmth of my Human. I settle into her arms and purr, hoping she understands this gesture as well—my thanks for taking me out and exploring my Kingdom with me. 

She carries me across the yard, and we go back inside. Though the door may be closing today, I know I have many more adventures with her to look forward to. 

---