Spade the Cat

Rain smacks against the glass.  Inside, a cat sits on the windowsill, watching the downpour.  The cat whisks her tail back and forth in anticipation; afraid of the wet outdoors but curious nonetheless.  Her owner sits in her computer chair, working on homework.

“What are you thinking, Spade?” asks the owner.

“Meow,” answers the cat, in a descriptive enough manner to insinuate Spade the Cat’s overwhelming interest in the falling drink hitting an invisible wall in front of her.  How strange, suggests Spade, that something I drink so much creates so much anxiety inside of me.

“Yea, that’s what I’m thinking,” replies the owner, her eyes slightly bloodshot from staring at a computer screen for too long.  “I guess you’re right, it’s time for a break.”

“Meow,” agrees the cat, strongly.


A man says, “I love you,” gives her a kiss, “Good night,” and walks outside.  The owner closes the door and turns around toward Spade with a smile on her face.

“Do you like him, Spade?” inquires the owner.

“Meow,” responds the cat, but in a certain tone to suggest that she was still on the fence if the man was suitable for a durable romantic relationship.  Perhaps, advised Spade, we should be patient and allow time to tell us the answers.


The owner lies in bed, covers over her bulging stomach, propped up on a pillow, watching TV.  Spade the Cat walks over and curls up against her stomach.

“Prrr,” says the cat, indicating a resilient, time-tested, emotional bond.

“Are you excited to have a baby to play with?” asks the owner.

“Meow,” retorts the cat in a hasty manner that could only mean, No, I was very happy when it was just the two of us against the world.  We had a feisty demeanor that only we could love, and everything was tailored our fit.  We do not need a man and a baby.

“I’m excited, too,” she says.


A medium-sized cage is placed on the kitchen floor.  The man is bent over it, holding the cage door open.  The owner is carrying the cat to the kitchen.

“Come on, Spade, we need to make you feel better,” the owner says.

“Meow,” growls the cat, her eyes drooping and legs weak.  But, thought Spade, I don’t think I’m that sick, I just need some rest.  I only need some water, and if you all would be so kind, the mushy food that I like.

“I know,” replies the owner, “that’s why we’re taking you to the vet.”


Spade the Cat is lying on a cold, silver platform.  Several people, including the owner, the vet, the man, and the baby, stand over her and talk.  Spade does her best to keep her bare paws off the platform.  The owner has tears in her eyes.

“Meow,” says the cat, but in a soft tone to infer that she cares, and she wants his owner to feel happy again.  There, there, implies Spade, you need to cheer right up.  Let’s go back home and I’ll purr on your belly.

The owner looks at Spade, “I know, Spade, you must be scared.  I’m sorry.”

“Meow,” answers the cat, but in a reassuring quality that could only mean: Hey, I don’t know why I should be afraid.  Why?  Is everything OK with you?  I just want to cheer you up.  Let’s go home, OK?

The owner walks over and pets Spade, puts her face next to hers, and says, “We have to put you down.  You’re really sick, and I’m going to take the pain away, OK?”  Tears glide down her cheeks.  “I love you, I’ll always remember you, Spade.”

“Meow,” cries the cat, but in a desperate manner that could be translated into – What?  Me?  But I’m just tired!  I only need a few more naps!  Just take me home, it’s cold here.

The owner turns her back to Spade as the vet walks toward her with a needle.

“Meow,” cries the cat one more time, in a distressed nature.  Please, howls Spade, just take me home.  I just need food, water, petting, and sunshine!  I’m just a little worn down!  You’re child wears me out!  Please!

The owner is crying.  She looks to her husband and says, “She was saying goodbye.  Such a brave cat.”

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