Bravery of the Savage Cat

Plunging into darkness. For Lunch.

I noticed him when he was clawing, a minute, then two, then five.

The rhythmic scratching. The rumble like thunder. Cats are smart, proud, and take no prisoners.

It could not be that he had mistaken the trash can for green grass. But, there he was, digging, as though into the dirt, across the street.

He was laser-focused. Relentless. The bird above did not distract him. Nor the car that raced by.

Digging. Digging. He tumbled some when his first paw broke through.

He had been clawing at the edge of the can, plastic and rancid, but such shallow things did not dissuade him.

He knew the value of a hard day’s work. And now, light and breath. Rotting cheese and microwave dinners. A whiff of what lay beyond.

I had seen this mangy friend once before but did not understand. The block had been sleepy. I thought I was alone. Just then, he burst forth, exploding out of the dumpster.

He had been silently inside. I jumped and cursed, he much braver than I. Now, here he was. This little man. Or fierce tiger woman. Ready to plunge into darkness. For lunch.

The seal broken, things moved quickly now. A second paw, then his poor little head. That lid must have been heavy on his delicate neck. But, his body was quick to follow, and then a rattle, and he was gone.

What must he have found, once he dropped down into the depths? Darkness? Heaven? The trash piled high, or just a pathetic wrapper or two?

And, how could he know, while he was clawing, clawing if he could again scale the walls to exit, once he had eaten his fill?

No matter though, for my fierce friend, plunging into darkness,

no thought of tomorrow, to stave of starvation, or to live like a king.