A Birthday Party

Tom was digging in his garden that morning although he really had no idea what he was doing.  Under the impression he was destroying weeds he tore out perfectly good flowers and cut the roots of blameless others.  It was a bright and cool day, which ruffled his fur and made him feel good.  Today made him think that something exciting would happen.  He whipped his long tail about as he did when he was thinking, and he stopped for a smoke while he watched the early sun crest the far away green hills.  The ocean glittered and birds were singing in the trees around his house.  Tom twitched his whiskers, birds always made him want to go a-hunting but he knew that was forbidden.  Besides, he liked them and their songs.  The fresh loamy soil had caked around his feet, he had boots but he hated to put them on over his paws, the boots were ugly compared to his graceful feet and they felt weird anyway, what with the toes being cut off so that his razor sharp claws did not tear the leather.  Tom didn't think it was leather anyway but they looked like that is what they were made from.  He was wearing loose khaki pants more from habit and convention, even as magnificent as he was a naked cat bothered the neighbors, they had made that clear.  Tom leaned the shovel up against the wooden fence and walked back to the house.  A small cottage, it was thatched with a porch that ran entirely around the field stone building.  He walked into the small hallway where he hung his shapeless felt hat on the tree.  Walking sticks and an old shotgun were leaning in the corner by the plaster bust of Socrates on the waist high plinth, also plaster.  The morning light was filtered through the green and yellow and blue windows, the lead strips holding them together cast a net of shadows around the cozy main room.  Tom went into the small kitchen and began boiling water on the gas cooker in order to make coffee.  When that was ready he poured a cup and drank it while he listened to the old tube radio in it's mahogany cabinet, a delightful rendering of the Piano Sonata in C flowed over him and splashed against the paneled walls.  Tom thought of the coming party that afternoon, he and his friends were going to surprise the big gloomy rabbit that lived down the lane with a birthday celebration.  Of course he would not be surprised, why else would anyone invite the rabbit over, but it was still a nice thought and Tom hoped to get a smile from the dour bunny at the very least.  Like everyone else he knew, no one had the slightest idea how old they were but they all knew of holidays and special occasions when they came around.  For that matter no one remembers how they came to live in the small village, every time Tom started to ask about this something else would pop into his head and he would go off onto his latest project he would think of.  He always meant to ask the others how they got there as well but forgot each time he thought of it and would only remember his questions later on.  What a silly cat I am, Tom thought, and lit up another cigarette.  The radio was now playing some cheerful pop song and this was his signal to get to work on the party decorations.  He began by moving all the knick-knacks off the big round table by the fireplace and then drug it to the center of the room.  He expected at least 3 guests and set the table with his best chipped plates on the blanket he used as a tablecloth, anyone expecting style and taste would not expect it here.  He then set out 4 chairs of wildly varying styles neatly around the table and placed a ironware pitcher with flowers he had brought in from the garden in the center.  Tom was fairly sure he had 4 sets of cutlery and would put those out after the stew was finished.  He had spent last evening cutting onions and potatoes to the right size and all he had to do was to put the pot on the stove and simmer the meal for a couple of hours, things would kick off around two that afternoon so he had plenty of time.  He opened 4 bottles of the local wine and admired the yellow liquid all golden in the morning sun.  He had another cup of coffee and then swept the floor, Tom disliked carpets as he thought them dust collectors and barely being housebroken at the best of times he didn't like the way his muddy feet would mark up the faded floral pattern so he usually kept the rug as a wall hanging.  Today he would take it down off the wall and put it in the front hall to show his visitors that they were appreciated and valued.  After dusting he went into his small bedroom and changed his pants for his velvet suit, old and comfortable and he liked the way the blue fabric brought out his eyes.  He buttoned a pair of red spats around his feet and looked at himself in the cracked mirror on the wall.  Tom pirouetted in front of the glass and began to feel really warm inside, for once.   I really am a good looking cat and smart! oh my, yes.  He tied a ribbon in a bow around the tip of his tail, the soft long fur almost obscured it but it did add that touch of savoir faire any host needed to put his guests at ease and to make them just that bit envious that they were not such a handsome animal.  Tom always thought of others.  He was wearing a plain white shirt with a small silver medallion in place of a tie, the shirt was frayed around the cuffs and collar but it was clean and most comfortable.  All in all Tom felt that he looked the part of an erudite and welcoming raconteur.  Perfect!
Tom put the stew on over a low flame and decided it was time for a nap.  He didn't like to sleep because sleep brought the dreams.  I'll just rest my eyes, he thought as he stretched out on his narrow bunk, and then fell fast asleep.

He was walking across a field of rocks in a body both familiar and strange.  He had no tail and no fur.  There was a red glow on the horizon that gave him enough light to see some of his surroundings.  He could hear the footsteps of the Followers, the furies that would never leave him.  His worn leather boots knocked against the sharp rocks and his feet hurt.  He wanted to sit down and die but he had to keep walking toward the fire.  He wanted to beg for mercy and even in his dream he could feel the tears rolling down his face.  Those who sin must pay, he thought, and wondered again what he had done.  Then something grabbed his shoulder.

Tom awoke to the bell tingling at the front door.  He jumped up and ran into the small foyer and opened the door wide, it was his two best friends, Paul the panda and Farley Fox.

'Hello'!, they all said at once.  Tom asked them in and poured them both wine.  'Where do we put these'?  asked Paul, the both of them had gift wrapped boxes.  'Oh, just on the table.  It's not like we're gong to surprise Billy one little bit'.  The two sipped their wine.  'Good stuff'! Farley said, 'I could see having a case of this'.  Paul whipped out a joint and they all started taking hits off it.  'Billy should be here now, I hope he's not in one of his moods'.  Tom worried about the rabbit, he was most gloomy and introspective.  He wanted to talk about his dream but everytime he remembered it he then forgot to bring it up.  Excusing himself, he went to the kitchen and turned the flame off under the stew.  He went to the cupboard and took out a loaf of bread and the cherry pie he had made the night before.  He took all that to the table and through the colored window he could see his rabbit friend walking up the path to the front door.  'OK, guys', and then he threw open the door.  'Surprise'!  The three of them yelled and Billy laughed and asked 'Save some for me'? as the joint was forced into his hand and Tom poured him a glass of the amber wine.  'Gosh, I didn't expect a party', total bullshit and they all knew it.  Billy was never surprised and was the most observant animal they all knew.  Everyone was all smiles, Paul had on his best striped suit and Farley had at least a clean Hawaiian shirt on, he was most casual about clothing.  Billy was wearing his usual blue jeans and ragged T shirt, but his smile lit up the room and almost distracted from his scarred face and ragged ear.
They ate and talked and ate some more, Tom wasn't much of an eater but he began to seriously knock back the vino, chain smoking and laughing at all the inane comments and talk that always go with such a party.  'Open these damn presents already', Paul said, and the bunny did just that.  Paul had given him a new shirt and a box of his fave cigars, and Farley had a bottle of J & B with a ribbon around the neck.  Tom had thought long and hard about what to give his friend and had looked all through the small antique shop in the village.  Mr. Charrington the shop owner questioned what Tom was looking for and produced a fine ivory backed mirror, very old and lovely.  'I know that rabbit loves to look at himself', he said.  'Perfect'!  exclaimed Tom, 'we'll all get a laugh out of that'.  Yes, said the shopowner as he stared into Tom's eyes, 'nothing like remembering what you are'.  Tom paid for the mirror and took the parcel back home.  It was funny, he thought, I can never remember what Mr. Charrington looks like when I leave.  What kind of animal is he?  Oh, well, this is a perfect present.

Billy loved the mirror and they all got very drunk and high and had a wonderful time.  When the bear and the fox left Billy and Tom had a smoke outside and Tom recalled what he wanted to ask.

'When did you get here, Billy'?  The rabbit was feeling the hole in his torn ear and replied, 'I'm not supposed to talk about that'.  'Why not', Tom asked, 'Who says so'?  Billy had the mirror in his hand and was twitching his nose at it.  He stopped and looked hard at Tom.  'The Followers, Tom, you know that'.  Tom was startled but he knew the bunny was more in sync with their situation.  'Now forget them and forget what I said', the rabbit told him.  Billy was now acting like he usually did, stern and sad.  Tom lost his train of thought and wondered what he had just said.  Pretty good weed, he reflected, and great wine.  Billy slapped his shoulder and thanked him for the party and the gifts.  Watching the rabbit walk away Tom noticed for the first time that he limped.  Oh, well, none of my business.  He went back inside his house and sighed.  I guess it can wait for tomorrow, hope no one sees what a sty this is.  He turned out the light and took off his good clothes, draping them carefully over the one stuffed chair.  The ribbon on his tail had gone god knows where and he had spilled wine down the front of his shirt.  He went and sat on the edge of the bed.  He would have prayed but whenever he tried he found himself thinking of something else.  All in all it had been a great party and he was glad his friends had a good time.  Tom laid back on the bed and fell asleep.  That night he did not dream at all.  He woke early and cleaned up the house.  It was another lovely day and it was time to make coffee.  Mornings always made the cat glad to be alive.

 

Painting by Jean Delville - Treasures of Satan.  1894.

 

Room for one more, Honey.