The fact that the whole of my existence was reliant on that one muscle in my chest that could realistically pack up at any time made me nervous. People could be really fit and eat only healthy food and still have congenital heart problems and drop dead. I wish things were a bit more secure, healthwise. There is almost nothing you can do to stop your body getting ill, or responding to situations in a way you might not like. It’s like being a servant to a master who is completely unpredictable. That’s why I had a routine, so I was busy and my mind was occupied.
I did my breathing exercises and thought about the kitten but that didn’t calm me down, I wondered whether cats could have heart problems too; that would be another thing to worry about.
Last night I made my Thursday phone call to my mother and all she wanted to talk about was me getting a cat. Again. I decided that, even though I didn’t find them very interesting, if everyone thought I should have one I would try. Mother kept using words like company and responsibility, and I didn’t want either of those things, but it was better than a person, it was just a baby animal. I would try.
It wasn’t Wednesday but Grandpa was coming around specially to deliver my new cat. It was a tabby one. Mother told me that she was coming with him, so I had spent yesterday’s session on the computer searching and had put together a document on how to care for a kitten and printed lots of pages. Kittens needed a lot of looking after and I was feeling very unsure how I would fit it in and keep to my list.
I had gathered up all the information, and emailed Mother a list of things I needed to get and things that had been recommended by www.catprotection.co.uk. There were a lot of things, and I knew that having a cat was going to be hard even though Grandpa thought it was for my own good and was only getting it to make me more responsible in the eyes of the world, which was very important even though I didn’t understand how they would see that I had a cat because it wasn’t going outside and I didn’t have visitors unless you count Grandpa and Mother and they already know.
I would have to do a whole new list, on the kitchen wall, and I would have a whole new set of things to do. It was making my palms itchy and I felt sweaty and upset. My routine was just right, and I could fit everything in, but just when things had settled down, now there was the afternoon in the park, which I hated thinking about and couldn’t visit any more, and this. I had discovered that cats need worming and microchipping and got stressed but this one was going to come with those things done, and injections. I hated injections so I didn’t want to see that. Grooming the cat wasn’t necessary unless you got one which had long hair. I had already told Grandpa to make sure it had short hair. Grandpa had selected a tabby cat, just a normal one, so no grooming and no hair on the sofa, just maybe a few hairs that fell out like they do with a person. I didn’t want to have clothes covered in hair.
I remembered I had also put a note on the board downstairs asking for work. I could feel my face screwing up, and my hands, and I leant hard against the wall on my tiptoes.
On top of all this, Grandpa had told me on the phone that the kitten was going to urinate and defecate in a plastic tray that he was bringing with him. I had to scoop it out, it would come with a scoop, and then put it in the bathroom and flush it away in the toilet I use myself. The thought of it made me feel like vomiting. I read an article which said a cat is cleaner than a person but that might be the people you see on the Tube, who don’t wash or sanitise. More and more I decided I wasn’t looking forward to the cat. It was all adding tasks and the cat hadn’t even arrived yet.
The issue of what to call my cat had also thrown me. I had to name it, Mother said, because it was going to be mine. I first wanted to call it Cat but Grandpa told me that Mother would think it showed a lack of imagination and think I had no feelings towards it and had not connected with the animal properly. It couldn’t be Cat, then. I made another list.
My list of cat names wasn’t that long but I had googled popular cat names and these were some I liked. The cat was a boy so my ideas were for males:
Blackie, but only if it was a black cat.
Whiskers, the second most popular name for a cat.
Richmond, but I had thought of this before what happened in the park so I crossed it out.
Staverton, Grandpa’s suggestion, I don’t like it and it would remind me of Grandpa, so I crossed it out.
Bob because it’s short and for a boy.
Kitty because it’s short for cat but it sounds like a girl because I knew a girl called Kitty, so I crossed it out too.
After my usual morning free time I sat looking out of the window until I saw Grandpa’s car pull up outside. He looked up and signalled for me to come downstairs. I could see that my mother was in the front seat and that was another new thing because they didn’t usually come together. I reminded myself that this was just one day, for the kitten, and not another change to my list. The day ahead had already gone out of my routine and was close to completely ruined so I concentrated on getting this over with and seeing what happened. I slowly stood up and walked towards the door, where I exchanged my slippers for my outside shoes. Adidas, my favourite shoe brand. I liked the stripes on the side.
I looked at the time in the hall, it was 10.10. Good, plenty of time until lunch and if Grandpa left quickly I could just try and do the exercises I should have done on Wednesday but was too tired. Then I could just ignore the cat and watch television later. I was trying to stay fit inside the flat now. On the way down the stairs I took a decision and decided to call the cat Tabby because I would remember it and the cat turned out to be even stripier than I thought when I saw it, which was good, the name was a good choice.
‘Morning, Nick,’ said Grandpa in his chirpiest voice. I had asked him once why he sounded like that sometimes, very bouncy and loud, and he said, ‘Feeling chirpy, Nick,’ which isn’t even a thing, and I said, ‘Morning,’ back, and stood away from the basket. My grandpa looked at me, I looked at the pavement.
My mother got out of the car, looking worried, I knew that look, and she said, ‘Hello, Nick, this is exciting. I hope the kitten keeps you company.’
I didn’t want to look as though I was panicking, so I did my practice smile and just said, ‘Yes.’
Everyone was quiet for a minute and I tried not to worry about Grandpa coming inside; Mother was there and he didn’t correct me when she was close by, but I had a kitten to get used to. I wanted a short visit. Grandpa spoke to me. ‘Give us a hand. I have to say I never realised a little animal would need this much gear.’
I tried to explain about the list and the research so that Mother would be impressed, but Grandpa was looking at the pile of things on the floor.
‘Yes, I know, Nick, I was only joking. I forgot you had a humour bypass. Do you want to take the stuff, or the kitten?’
‘The stuff.’
We carried everything up the stairs and my mother followed and as I went through the hall I saw it was 10.45.
My note was still up, I stopped.
‘Mother, look at my note. I am looking for a job.’
‘Nick, I’m so proud of you. Well done. Let us know if you find one.’
We got the kitten into the flat and Grandpa put its carrying basket on the floor and undid the leather straps. We waited, and after a bit the little animal came out. It was really small and as its head emerged it made a little sound as if to say, Help, but it was just a squeak not a word.
I wasn’t sure what the right thing to do for a small kitten was, but it stopped outside the cage, looking at the floor, and began scratching at the carpet with claws that looked very sharp, before Grandpa scooped it up in one hand and held it out. ‘Here you go. Hold him.’
I hadn’t realised you had to hold them, it hadn’t been on the list or on the website, and I didn’t feel at all like having it in my hand now that I had seen how its claws had made runs in the carpet.
‘Come on, he’s yours, you can’t just stare at him.’
Grandpa held the
cat in his palm while I tried to pluck up the courage to take it.
‘He might scratch me.’
Mother frowned at Grandpa and smiled at me. I knew she was trying to make me feel better, but smiling doesn’t make someone who doesn’t want to hold a cat feel like they want to hold it. I concentrated. There would be no point in going to all this trouble if I couldn’t do what everyone else did with their cats.
Grandpa doesn’t like people who don’t make up their minds, or who are babies, or won’t do what they are told, so just as I was going to hold out my hand he picked the cat up into the air and put it on me, and it clung on to my jumper, and then, while I was concentrating on not waving my arms or flicking it off, it lay down on the bend of my elbow. I looked down at him and little dark blue eyes stared at me. It weighed nothing and it smelt cleaner than I had thought it would. I knew my grandpa was watching, so I stayed still and tried not to think about germs.
‘He’s nice,’ I said finally.
‘Yeah, he’s sweet. What’s his name?’
‘It’s Tabby, because he’s a tabby. I found it on the computer.’
‘It suits him. Let’s get him sorted.’
Grandpa unpacked his bed and I unpacked the bowls and the litter tray and Mother made cups of tea for me and her, and wiped down the side with Dettol spray. I felt as if everything was going well. Perhaps this cat was a good idea after all.
I sat on the chair and the kitten climbed down off my arm and I drank my tea and the kitten went to sleep, on the floor, not even on the bed Grandpa had got for it to sleep on. I asked Grandpa to move it, but he told me it could sleep anywhere it wanted and laughed but it wasn’t a nice laugh. If it could sleep anywhere, then what was the point of the bed? I decided I could try and move it later. Grandpa filled up the tray with grey grit, and left the scoop next to it. It could be outside the bathroom, I didn’t think the germs could get to the kitchen from there. We watched Homes Under the Hammer together – well, Mother was watching me and Grandpa and we were watching the programme – then we had a sandwich which was chicken and avocado and brown bread, and baked crisps, and a juice. Tabby was quiet and seemed quite easy to live with so I relaxed a little bit and thought my day might be alright.
‘We have to go, Nick, leave you two to get acquainted. Places to go, people to see. You look white as a fucking sheet, Nick, you eating? You’re very pasty, like I said before. I think you need to get some colour in your cheeks.’
‘Leave him alone, Dad – look, on his list it says he goes to the park on Tuesdays.’
I wanted to explain that I wouldn’t be going there again, and about getting sun through my window, but I decided to be quiet. The cat was enough for one day. I would just tell them I was going to go out.
‘It’s alright, I will go for a walk tomorrow, I’ll get fresh air.’
‘Alright, then. Just pay attention to the cat. You know, stroke it.’
I felt upset when I heard Grandpa say that. I looked back at the kitten. I wanted to move it on to its sleeping cushion.
I felt uneasy until the door closed behind them. Mother gave me a smile, and said she would see me next week. Grandpa gave me a wink, which I hated.
I sat still for a bit; the kitten didn’t move and I didn’t really want to wake it. Eventually I had to go to the bathroom and when I came back the kitten was stretching. I decided to get my routine back on track so I pulled the bin bag out of the bin and tied it up. I put my left trainer on ready to go outside, and then went to put my right one on. As I picked it up off the floor, I could smell something bad. The kitten hadn’t used the litter tray, it had made a mess on the floor next to my shoe. I threw the shoe away across the room and put my hand over my mouth and nose and opened the window. I pulled off my other shoe, laces still done up, which you are not supposed to do, and ran to the sink and scrubbed my hands until they were sore. I put on my washing-up gloves, trying to ignore the stink in the room, which was overwhelming me.
Tabby had only just arrived, and so far I had stared at it for three hours while it slept and now I had a flat that stank and I had to somehow get rid of the mess on the floor. I filled up a bowl with water and washing-up liquid and carpet cleaner like Mother had done once when my brother was sick on the carpet, and got out my cleaning wipes and some toilet paper. I picked up what I could and dropped it into the toilet, gagging, then took a cloth and rubbed and rubbed, then put bleach where it had been, then more water, then more bleach. The carpet looked paler but the smell was less. I would have to throw my shoes away, you can’t have one shoe, and the one which was close to the mess must be covered in germs. I undid the bag and with the gloves on I picked up the trainers one at a time and put them into the half-filled rubbish bag that I had been about to take down. My heart was pounding so hard I thought I would faint. Last of all I put the gloves I had used in too.
In my socks I went downstairs, re-tied the bag neatly and laid it on top of the bin, trying to be calm, and I tried to breathe slowly. As soon as I went upstairs and opened my door the smell hit me, it hadn’t gone, and I got out the air-freshening spray and sprayed everywhere. I sat on the sofa and tried to think. How could one little animal make everything such a mess and put a whole life’s routine out this much?
No sooner had I sat down, Tabby started to jump up on my leg. It had its claws out and it hurt a bit, they were very sharp. I told it to stop, calmly, and asked it to get down but it didn’t seem to hear and I was panicked now. How was I supposed to control it if it wouldn’t take simple instructions? Just as I was about to call cat protection for advice, it landed on my lap. This meant I was completely stuck and I sat there, rigid, while the kitten pushed into me, and put its claws in and out, and made a noise like a mobile phone vibrating. This was not relaxing. I sat rigid, held prisoner, and I couldn’t even turn the light on or get a glass of water and I had only had two today, so I could get dehydrated. I tried to lift it off, but it was attached by its claws.
I didn’t like cats.
When Tabby eventually woke up it was nearly five o’clock. The sun had gone round the other side of the building and I hadn’t turned the light on. The cat had wasted my whole day and now it jumped down, as if it had lived in my flat all its life, and started miaowing really loudly for such a tiny body. I had seen cats do that on TV and they always wanted food, so I prepped its food carefully, with my hand over my mouth as I dug it out of the tin. It stank of old fish guts and I tried not to be sick in my mouth. I kept my yellow rubber gloves on so at least my hands wouldn’t get contaminated. I also filled its water bowl while it ate. When it had finished the whole tin, it repeated the pooing of earlier, this time in the litter tray, which smelt just as bad, and I had to empty that, and, although I thought about putting it in the toilet like Grandpa said, I decided to get another bin bag and go downstairs again. I didn’t want to share a toilet with an animal. By the time I got upstairs, it was asleep again. I was exhausted, and happy that I didn’t have to worry now it was sleeping. I decided not to put the television on in case it woke it up. Sleeping cat was the least trouble, and I decided I liked it best like that.
I needed to achieve something other than looking after the cat today, so I sat down to continue my research. There was something comforting about being back on my chair, in front of the computer. I could forget about the cat, and try and breathe calmly. It would have been even better if I could have looked out through the window and watched the world go by, but most of the light was gone now, and I had missed the quiet time of the day. Watching people in the rush hour made me anxious, nothing but running for buses or horns blaring. This was another disturbing day. I started to itch but I stared at the screen and slowly calmed down.
Just as I found a really helpful website, the phone rang. It made me jump and I then looked over at Tabby in case he woke up. He didn’t. It was probably Mother wanting to find out how things were going with the cat. I left it, but it was stressful letting a phone ring. It stopped after fifteen rings and I sat
for a moment then did my centring exercise and breathing, checked the kitten was still asleep and walked to the kitchen to prepare something to eat. I would make pancakes, white ones – that always soothed me. I loved mixing the milk into the powder and I loved the taste. The smell from the kitten was in the kitchen area as well, and I started to worry that there could be germs in the air. I washed my hands and the bowl for the pancakes and the spoon in very hot water with soap. Then I washed the frying pan, then I made the pancakes.
I got them to the table and sat down. Better. Just as I was lifting the fork to my lips, the phone started ringing again. That was twice in fifteen minutes. I didn’t want to speak to my mother and I didn’t pick up. I could be busy with the kitten, or outside at the bins. Mother knew I hated being rung over and over again and she never usually did it.
I had strategies, I had learned them at school, and I knew I had too much stress on me at the moment. Whoever would get a cat to relax them I had no idea. I was doing everything right, trying not to panic, but then the phone started ringing again. This time the persistent ring tone carried on echoing through my brain even after it stopped and I couldn’t even sit still, my hands were waving around, and I twisted up against the frustration of it all.
The Man on the Middle Floor Page 7