The River Brings a Letter

Spring was making itself felt in Idylland. The trees had not yet presented their buds but the air was warmer, the sunshine stronger, and the grass was starting to tinge itself green. Neville liked to walk the grounds of the Cosy Apartment Feline Sanitarium at this time of year, especially now, as he was growing older; the new season made him feel refreshed.

He stopped this evening by the river. The sun was orange in the western sky; it would soon be time for dinner. For the moment, though, Neville sat and felt the warmth on his grey fur. It was coarse now, the skin underneath dry. The insulin was not working on his diabetes, so Dr Bellen told him, and this made Neville feel all-overish much of the time. But he could still lie comfortably, sleep deeply, enjoy his food and derive pleasure from long chin-rubbing sessions. He was content.

But now he stared at the river. The water coursing down from the hills in Verdureland was clean and clear, and any object it carried from farther north was plain to see. Once in a while, a twig or a leaf would pass by, bumping against the short embankment, before continuing on to the sea. But there was something else this evening. Neville lie down, bringing his eyes closer to the item bobbing in the water. It was a glass bottle, a glass bottle with rolled paper inside.

“Oh, radi Boga…”

After dinner had been served to, and eaten by, the residents, Dr Bellen sat in his study, with a cup of tea, reading. His study was not public – like his office, where he conducted sanitarium business – nor entirely private – so as to exclude everyone. He was not annoyed, therefore, by one of the cats coming by to speak with him. He always looked forward to them sharing their conversations with him, anyway. But when Neville stopped by this evening, it was obvious that he had something else in mind than entertaining chatter. He carried a glass bottle.

“Hello, Neville,” the doctor greeted. “What do you have there?”

“It’s a glass bottle,” confirmed the cat. “It had a message inside, and photographs. It’s from Zofia.”

“Zofia!” Dr Bellen set aside his book and patted his lap. Neville was less reluctant to spend time there of late, and sure enough, the big grey cat jumped up and settled himself down. “She wrote a letter and put it in a bottle? She didn’t throw it in the river, did she?”

“I believe so,” said Neville, “though I don’t think she wrote the letter, since she’s illiterate. Some cat transcribed her words.”

Dr Bellen regarded the scroll-like document Neville held in his paws. The words printed neatly in pencil were quite intelligible. Zofia must have dictated it.

“Have you read it? What does she say?”

“She describes her new home. Would you like to read it, Doctor?”

Dr Bellen drank some of his tea and smiled, answering, “Why don’t you read it to me?”

“All right.” Though he sounded bothered by the request, Neville was rather pleased by it, and cleared his throat importantly.

Dear Neville, Dr Bellen and everyone at the sanitarium.

I wanted to write and tell you that I am happy in my new home. It is warm and cosy here, especially when the wind blows outside.

There are two humans here. They smile and laugh a lot. I think they are nice. There is also another cat. He’s bigger than me.

Neville glanced at the doctor and explained, “The last sentence seems to have been inserted after indecision about another, ‘He’s a giant, about seven feet tall and twice as wide.’ I think, perhaps, this Wyatt may have been writing the letter for Zofia.”

Dr Bellen smiled and nodded in agreement.

“You are probably correct about that.”

Neville resumed reading.

I was kept in a room by myself for weeks and weeks, maybe even a day or two. The humans made a fuss over me. They are nice. That Wyatt was on the other side of the closed door. He smelled bad. He wanted to smell me badly. But he didn’t seem dangerous.

In case he was, I had a hiding spot that I found where he was too gigantic large to come into. It’s good to have a hiding spot.

But I didn’t need it, because when I was let out of the room, Wyatt didn’t attack me. He was quite nice and kept his distance, though he wanted to come closer. See how big he is? He’s the size of a manatee.

“It says ‘manatee’?” Dr Bellen questioned.

“Indeed…” Neville frowned, wondering how Zofia had learned of manatees. Aloud, he stated, “I don’t think this Wyatt fellow is as large as the photograph depicts. I think he is flattened out a bit lying on his stomach.”

“And he’s closer to the camera,” the human pointed out.

He followed me everywhere. He never came close but he liked to watch me. This is me on the stairs asking the humans if Wyatt really lived here.

He would watch me walk and sleep and even eat. He was always there, but very polite about it.

Sometimes I felt like he was like a crazed vivisectionist you read about in the gutter press who kidnaps people and cuts them up and sells them as meat in a public market-place stalking me.

“Where on Earth does she come up with these things?” Dr Bellen stared, incredulous, at Neville.

“I blame Hector,” said the cat. He cleared his throat again.

Other times I thought he was like a guardian angel. I decided he was probably a guardian angel, so I decided to give him a chance to be friends.

I hung out with him more and more. It was especially fun at the human’s dinner-time (“This Wyatt doesn’t know how to use apostrophes,” mumbled Neville) when we would both look like beggars wanting human food. The humans thought we were ganging up on them. Hahaha.

Wyatt wanted me to lie next to him because he said I was his little sister now, and he would protect me. I liked that idea.

He’s a bit goofy sometimes, but I am, too, so I started to think maybe we were a good match.

Then we got in trouble because we found an old package of cat-nip in a carrier. I blamed Wyatt, because that’s what little sisters do. Hahaha.

But no matter what I did, he was gentle and patient. He waited till I realised he was a good cat and wouldn’t hurt me. He let me decide to be friends.

And now we are friends, brother and sister, too. And I have a home with loving humans and a big brother. I am very happy.

Zophia

(The humans spell my name different now, but it doesn’t matter because I can’t spell anything, anyway. Hahaha.)

Neville put the page down and was silent. But Dr Bellen could feel the unmistakable vibration of a cat’s purr on his lap. He stroked Neville head.

“I am very happy for her, too,” he said.

As the sun’s light disappeared outside, a fire glowed in the study’s grate, and the human and the cat read their letter once more.