Adventure Cat
a sotry of the little bird
The Little Bird’s Little Cat went adventuring.
You hear quite a lot about how difficult it is for people in her generation to buy their first home. With some prayer and a lot of help from her real dad, the Little Bird threaded the needle and got her first home.
“Will you still love me if I don’t live in Jackson?”
“Child, a box full of tigers couldn’t separate us.”
The thing that separates the Little Bird from the vast majority of women I’ve known is that she’s never once come to me and said, “Oh, Boyd! I’m in such trouble. Please help me!” Not only does she not do that, but she also hides it when she’s in trouble, and I have to find out about it through her Instagram. The thing that’s always been missing from my life is women who just didn’t care how strong I was or what I could do for them. They just wanted to be my friend.
“Lost Cat. Reward Offered.”
She’s actually gone to work late by the time I see this. I’d already texted “good morning, ladies” to her and her mom, then my sister and her child, followed by a brief rundown of the day, and something funny if I could think of it.
“Honey? What happened?” I text her. That’s when the dam breaks.
Little Bird struggles to make personal connections for the same reasons I do. Like me, she was away for a long time (I was in the cave, she was in Seattle. She wins.) and had just recently returned to Jackson, only to find that most of her friends had moved away, much the same way that I found how many of my friends had died. That’s the difference between being in your thirties and being in your sixties.
This Little Cat made her feel connected to living things again, much the same way that The Little Bird made me feel connected to living things again.
She confesses that she’s been crying. She feels terrible. She thinks she failed as a cat mom. She was his protector, and she failed him. Telling her she didn’t fail doesn’t help. At the moment, she doesn’t want to believe me.
The Little Bird knows me pretty well. She knows my trigger words, and she knows why they’re trigger words, but in her worry about her tiny friend, she forgot. She forgot that there’s one sound that the Great Beast can hear a mile away, and wake up angry. The sound of a lady’s tear rolling down her face and off her jaw. By the time the tiny tear hits her work blouse, the Great Beast is alert and awake. HULK SMASH!
I’m fully aware of how annoying it is when I show up out of nowhere and start taking charge in a situation. I’ve always known how annoying it is. I’ve also always known that it can work.
Little Bird does well in her job, but she’s very young, and she just bought a house. I make new “Lost Cat” posters with a considerably larger reward offering. The Poor Knight will pay for it. He won’t even listen to objections. Be still, child. Let me help.
The characters in my stories are almost all real people. The only one that’s not real is Feist-Dog, but please don’t tell him. Some people don’t like it when I write about them. The Little Bird enjoys it. I think it makes her feel seen. Feeling seen is a pretty big deal to most people. I always avoided being seen, even though having people see what was actually going on with me, rather than whatever bullshit I was projecting, probably would have made a difference in my life.
I’ve known for a while that, by far, the Little Bird is my most popular character. The women who read me, in particular, connect with her. Sometimes she reminds them of their daughters or granddaughters. Sometimes she reminds them of themselves. I’ve had a couple ask if she’s real, or if she’s imaginary like Feist-Dog.
She’s very real. I have photographs of her comparing shoes with the Baby Sister—the one who might have a tail. I told my sister that I’ve reconnected with an extraordinarily important old friend and, interestingly, with her child.
I was aware when Little Bird was born. It was just a couple of years before Daddy died. Her family, especially her mother and grandmother, once played tremendously important roles in my life, but by the time the Little Bird came along, I figured my role in their life was pretty much over. Whatever I was supposed to do for them, I must have done it, so, in the night, so no one would see me, I cast off lines and set sail for the open ocean. I figured Little Bird would have a charmed life. She was being watched by the most remarkable women I’ve ever known.
Part of that is bullshit, because I’d already begun casting off lines with just about everybody, not just Little Bird and her family. Not long after the Little Bird was born, Daddy said: “You’re dying, aren’t you, Buddy?”
My entire life, I’d wanted him to know me well enough to know when I was in trouble because I wasn’t about to actually tell anybody I was in trouble. Working for him, we became friends, besides the bonds of father and son. As friends, he noticed things that only a few of my friends had noticed. Believing I was strong enough to sail over anything, I’d sailed over the reef often enough to have large gouges in the hull, and I was taking on water faster than I could bail it. If nothing changed, I would flounder and sink.
My friend Janie knew this. One night, she held my hand in the parking lot of the Palm Bar and said, “Why are you lying to me?”
I was lying to everybody.
What happened next, I couldn’t have predicted. Little Bird’s fanbase, hearing that she’d lost her Tomcat, swung into action. One of my brother’s oldest friends contacted the “Rankin County Pet Detectives.” Soon, people all over Central Mississippi knew that Blue had gone adventuring, and his momma was worried.
I’ve tried to comfort Little Bird by telling her that Tom Cats like to adventure, which is true, but not much help. I’ve also tried to tell her something similar about human boys, with much the same effect. I tell her all the time that I’m aware of what she looks like. There will always be boys. She just needs to consult with me about which ones to let in on a test basis. I have an application for them to fill out.
“Daddy helped me look through the ditches.” I don’t know him too well, but I kinda love him. Besides taking care of Little Bird, he took Bill Goodman’s job after they hit him with a tranquilizer gun and carried him out of the office in a crate so he could retire. As far as I’m concerned, there aren’t enough people in Mississippi for Little Bird to have as many people who love her as she deserves.
Life is funny. By the time Little Bird was in college, I was looking for a way to escape into the cave. I wasn’t adventuring like her cat, Blue. I wanted to die, but quietly, in a place where nobody would see me. Despite the fact that her cousin, the General, and her mom, the Angel, are going to Millsaps, Little Bird went to some sort of etiquette and finishing school in North Mississippi, near where John Grisham lives. Down the street from where the Gin used to be.
Blue’s not home yet. He’s still adventuring, but I have a very good feeling about it. Boy cats like to assert themselves by doing this, even when they’re fixed. The Little Bird is a wonderful cat mom. You can tell by how worried she’s been.
In her family, it’s something of a tradition for the women to find ways to make Uncle Boyd, The Poor Knight, and the Great Beast, stronger and healthier than the way they found him. Little Bird is the third iteration of this.
Like her mother and grandmother, I love this child more than the moon and the sun and all the fish in the sea. Like her mother and grandmother, I’ve sworn by the night sky to love and protect her.
I can’t promise that Blue will find his way home. Sometimes adventure cats just keep on adventuring, but it’s pretty rare. The Little Bird is an excellent cat mom, and now, there’s an entire legion of Little Bird fans helping her. I feel pretty good about the odds that Blue will find his way home. Hopefully, he won’t bring kittens. There are reasons Tomcats go adventuring. I’m pretty sure he’s fixed, though.
I’m aware of how annoying it is when I HULK SMASH my way into the middle of problems. Trust me. I know. I also know that it works sometimes. Besides that, I know the Little Bird is worth it.
I meet the children of classmates all the time. The Little Bird has somehow found a way to become my best friend while I find ways to return to the world.
