Catseye

Frederick didn't like cats. This wouldn't have been a problem if cats also didn't like Frederick, but they did and so when he would find one they would immediately rub up against his leg as if he was the only person on the planet to ever pay attention to them. It didn't matter if he tried to ignore them, they would rub anyway and cover his dark clothing with a layer of cat hair that seemed to never go away.

It was taken all into stride until the day in January when the temperature got really cold and Frederick slipped upon the ice. He felt himself going and was able to gently lay his packages down before hitting the ice coated concrete. Despite his best efforts he still went down hard, but initially felt that he was unscathed. It was a cat that let him know otherwise.

“That was pretty funny.” He said. He was a large cat and his fir was a gray tiger stripe. Frederick was surprised that he was able to tell—no smell-- that this was a male cat with his testicles removed. “I didn't know humans can fall.”

“What?” Asked Frederick, still confused.

“Humans seem to be so sure-footed. Their balance is awesome.” The cat flicked it's tail. “Like some kind of gymnast.”

Frederick thought about it for a moment—it challenged him because he had always thought humans were clumsy. “But you guys make these incredible jumps onto narrow surfaces. They're incredible.”

“I once was taken into a metal box which then appeared to accelerate. I would then put my nose next to the edge and there was scent of many places at once, so rapid that it seemed as if I was traveling through time itself. And I was because when I left the box I was in a place much greater the before.”

“Greater?” Frederick asked. “You mean it seemed like you passed over a great distance.”

“And water.” The cat flicked it's tail again. “But I remembered that I was supposed to be there, but had always wondered how I would spend the time getting there. I know how I get home but don't understand how I started so far away.”

“What's your name?” Asked Frederick who felt that he needed a different kind of reference.

“I could tell you Tom Tiger,” The cat replied, “But it really wouldn't make any difference. For just like my appearance here the labels attached are only a passing description. Whatever name I give you will only help you identify me in easy conversation. It's only your understanding that can apply meaning.”

So Frederick scratched behind the cat's ears and thought ahead as to what he would do when he met another cat. He would think of each situation in which he would meet a new cat and hear it's story—but knowing that if he conditioned himself he would understand that each unique moment would, in itself, represent a cliche. And in taking that simple social affront would be actually converted into knowledge and he would totally understand why some cats would, for example, defecate on the bed of their affiliated humans because of a rapid change in the price of fossil fuels.

After a few months it got worse—cats began to tell him such mundane aspects of the future like weather reports or the occasional newspaper horoscope. Soon the cats would tell him everything. It began to be too much when his girlfriend's cats detailed her bathroom behavior when he wasn't around in exchange for cleaning a litter-box.

His girlfriend had two cats but he only would speak to Jake the dominant one. Early in Frederic’s enlightenment Jake explained how he had once hitchhiked across the country once in an effort to find some place in which no one else had ever seen before.

It wasn't Jake that made a difference, though. Frederick learned that he could understand the story of every cat he met. He could patiently listen to an orange tabby explain how they fought in the war in the desert and then have a tuxedo cat explain how he used to tour with the Dead.

And so Frederick was able to take a step back from the onslaught of truth spewed by random cats. He was able to filter and with the flowing clarity he saw their message reaching a crescendo that sounded important but was just more babble in the soundtrack of life.