The Tomcat is involved in Foul Play

“I can’t take any more!” with these theatrical words, taken completely out of context and as such incomprehensible, Adam, my human tin opener, entered our sweet home, threw his laptop bag into the first available corner and disappeared into the depths of your garden.

Dust particles were dancing in the slanting incoming light, the air appeared somehow electrified.

I left him alone for a few minutes, before I tracked him down in the hammock at our huge copper beech. This tree had already frequently borne witness to chapters and turnings in both of our lives. Numerous marks, hearts, names of lost loves and dates of life phases were carved into the bark.

I sat down silently at his feet and waited. Finally he began to speak with his eyes closed and in a quiet voice. “This work does not fulfil me! The constant stress, all the commotion because of minor details, permanently subjected to the criticism of colleagues and superiors – all day I have the feeling that I’m lagging behind.

On top of that I have saddled myself with the double burden of elite training at one of the most renowned institutes in Switzerland. That really stretches me to my limit! I wanted so much to progress but my talents are not appreciated at all, they are not even needed. I quit my job today. I would like to enjoy my life, to travel, run a marathon, paint or write a book. I could take singing lessons, I was a very impressive tenor – why not!”

I stared at him with a shocked expression, my ears were lying dangerously close to my head and my tail was whipping the grass nervously! His moaning and groaning had sent my tolerance and acceptance levels to the moon.

He wants to lead a fulfilled life, I thought distraught. But why?

The idea of Adam hanging around the house all day, bawling loudly and disturbing my usual routine is insufferable. I couldn’t stand this human near me, constantly advocating pointless theses, for more than 2 days.

“You were happy until now! Just think about it a little, where you draw the line and which things you do not want to do without!” I said understandingly.

In my opinion I thought that eating, sleeping and occasionally going jogging must be enough for such a simple cluster of amoeba cells.

In the end I raised my game and convinced him that he had to look for another job. Everyone needs a goal and fulfilment is not served on a silver platter – you have to work hard for it! He could also combine a number of things. Hanging around at home simply is not an option, as he has a home to maintain after all and bears the responsibility for a pampered tomcat whose living standards are really not up for negotiation.

I left him in the hammock with this broadside, strolled confidently and with my head held high into the house and got busy looking at job advertisements and writing ingenious applications, while he scratched around on the tree trunk with his knife.

How did it turn out? Thanks to my application he easily found a new job. Now, to satisfy his longing to travel, he drives one hour to his new office in the country every day singing loudly. After work he goes jogging out there in the countryside and is training for a marathon that he will never run. When he comes home completely exhausted I send him off to shower and accept the evening meal from the luxury delivery service.

We lead a happy, fulfilled life – well, I do anyway!

Copyright Illustration: Manuela Dona

 A tomcat‘s perspective

As always, when things are not at all balanced in my life, I sit at the window of our posh luxury property and gaze questioningly into the starry night. What is wrong with the world? What’s happening here? But apart from getting breathtakingly intoxicated by the stars, the firmament has no answers to questions posed by a tomcat searching for meaning.

Who is spoiling everything for me and bringing a bitter note to my otherwise privileged life to date? Where has the beautiful, carefree life gone? Where? Humanity is divided into good and evil, black and white, loud and silent, those willing to work and those looking, speeders and brakers, vaccination supporters and vaccination opponents. There is no longer an inbetween factor; there are no shades, no nuances. Can we even recognise the grey tones at all in our society? For two years a pandemic has got the better of us, the economy has been destroyed and is only recovering slowly. Viruses and masks, with annoying rules in the meantime and human tragedies, are still determining our daily lives. Political disenchantment is running rampant. One scandal follows the other. Trust in our elected representatives is virtually at zero, if the surveys do not tell the right story they are doctored, warped or embellished with false assessments. Virgin forests are burning, the oceans are suffocating on plastic waste, the polar caps are melting and more than onehundred species are becoming irretrievably extinct each day, because profit and greed for power are widespread.

What has happened to humanity? What triggered it? Which chromosome is missing? The world will perish, if humanity no longer trusts that it is also worth living for tomorrow. How can we pull ourselves out of this situation and what is really keeping the world going and what will get the pulse beating again? I gaze at the skies for answers but the universe is silent. Silence. Pure silence. I suddenly notice a gentle rustling in the garden. I see a magic shadow on the wall, which quickly disappears from my eye cones. Quiet, careful advancing in the moist autumn leaves. I am beginning to think that I have imagined it, when a subtle but incredibly beguiling fragrance penetrates up to my nose and grows to an olfactory hurricane that is clearly and at the same time difficult to identify. My whiskers are vibrating, my ears are set for reception, and my tail is continuously whipping to and fro. What is happening here? I am wide awake and at the same time almost in a bewitching unconsciousness. Is it the answer from the universe or a sign from the cosmos? Then the moon slowly creeps over the edge of the roof and a beam of light falls into the night garden. Then I see her. She is sitting like a Madonna upright on the stone wall, elegant, angelic and not at all hidden, in the light of the moon. Unbearably slowly she turns her head and looks directly at me with a soft glance. I am mesmerized by her gaze. She gets up and slowly turns to the darkness of the garden. «No don’t go », screams every fibre in my body, but my voice remains silent. She turns around once more, looks at me challengingly and in a split second the spectre is over. The shockinduced paralysis dissolves like a spell. I push my head through the cat flap of the terrace door, follow up with a bold but elegant dive to immerse myself in the darkness and follow the scent trail that shows me the way to the only thing that makes the world go round. Love of course. Maybe the world will perish – someday – but not tonight! Meowwwwww!

*) In my stories I obviously address all genders (m/d/f).

Illustrationen Copyrights: Adam´s Tomcat, Manuela Dona

Sustainability in a feeding bowl

Have you ever stopped to think how sustainable it is to own a cat? No? Neither have I. I simply could not care less! Because it does not bear thinking about granting a cat access to our dignified male abode.

At the moment keeping a pet is mutating into a national sport. Does nobody for one second think of the consequences? Now mother, father and children are stuck at home with their home office and homeschooling, then on top of it they bring a hairy cat creature into their intimate universe that eats constantly and scratches everything.

Yes, and who gets the animal after separation? Wars have been waged because of a pet, because as soon as love dissolves, everyone pounces on what’s left to get their own back on their partner. Emotional booty like a cat fits the bill perfectly in the eyes of even a halfway intelligent warlord. As I said no one thinks of the consequences. Pets are only hoarded on a whim. Mankind is obviously suffering not only from the Corona pandemic, but also from an extremely contagious form of an amnesia mutation.

But I am digressing. Even if the positive ecological balance of a cat will never affect me, I recently led a heated discussion with Adam, my can opener, on cat food alucups. I hate those things. I would not expose my well-trained body to the disgusting stuff, I prefer to stick to my fresh salmon and well-matured dry-aged beef, but I took a sniff at one of those cans once and apart from the deplorable stink, an alucup simply cannot be sustainable. Zero Waste is allegedly the trend of the season and it is clear to even the most stupid that alucups, tin cans, cat litter, mink shampoo and fur mice are far from being Zero Waste. I don’t want to even think about the monster cat toilet – Yuck!!!

And scratching trees? My claws itch when I think of the constructions wrapped in sisal cord or the monstrosities covered in fleecy carpet that are set up in the living room devouring multiple square metres, while the cap takes a nap in the bed, the washing basket or in the Amazon box and sharpens her nails on the living room chair or the silk wallpaper. No, the world has to wake up and protect itself from these senseless money and resource eating monsters and the
industry behind them!

That was my thinking 2 hours ago, and then Adam came back to our upper-class villa, which is kept in tip-top condition, with a little kitty in his arms. The delicate little paws of the 12 week old, sugar-sweet ball of wool had barely touched the ground when she swirled up a tsunami in our sedate male domicile and brilliantly brought down my founded opinion on the sustainability of cats. Only a tomcat with a heart of stone could have resisted those naïve eyes. I am now clearing some space in the cupboards for an Armada of snacks, kitten milk and toys. Which reminds me, I’ll have to ring the carpenter about the scratching tree I ordered.

But no one should ever forget – sustainability concerns us all!

Illustrationen Copyrights: Adam´s Tomcat, Manuela Dona

Ophiuchus descendents amongst themselves.

Space – infinite expanse! Stargazing does not invariably mean you are moonstruck or a dreamer. Learned, scientifically interested and well-read as I am, it was only a question of time before I delved into astrology.

My passion began on an autumn day when Adam, my can opener, was sitting in front of a beautiful fire with a glass of Bordeaux and the newspaper, reciting his free horoscope amused. «It will be a great week! I will finally meet the love of my life, change my job and sell my CD collection from the 90s at a profit. The universe has a lot of secrets in store for us», claimed Adam spiritedly.  Gob smacked I looked at him. What was I supposed to say in the face of so much naivety? If only he had used the paper to light the fire. So I went into retreat, yawned in a bored fashion and sauntered to my seat at the window to stare into the pitch black garden. The last sentence hung like a distinctive fragrance in the air.  What did that nitwit know about the universe and the countless open questions that tortured my hyper-intelligent cat brain on a daily basis? I was something special, extremely unusual and, with the help of the stars, would prove it.  I went through the skylight in the spacious attic of our upper-class villa armed with a telescope to tackle the investigation into my past and future and it wasn’t long before it became clear to me that the Babylonians had been mistaken. The stars revealed the only possible opportunity. I was in the 13th constellation of Ophiuchus, born the serpent bearer and a direct descendent of Asclepius, the son of Koronis, the God of light. My ancestor, who had denied it to this day, was a healer who generally carried a serpent and a staff, which at some time in the past had led to his trademark becoming the symbol of the medical trade. Then it suddenly struck me. I had seen the only truth – I was…words failed me! Godlike I climbed from the observatory in the attic and proceeded to make the world aware of whom exactly they were dealing with. I only spoke to Adam when it was absolutely necessary and then looking down on him and otherwise I upheld my majestic stance. I relished my reputed superiority and posted countless sharp-witted comments of my theory on all significant astrology blogs. But I had no desire to begin long discussions, I wanted to rule and if it had been possible, I would have thrown bolts of lightning. Adam observed my change with suspicion and after a number of attempts to bring me back to reality, he finally pulled the rip cord. I was just giving a passionate speech on the senselessness of Gods cleaning their teeth, when he dialled the psychological emergency line and vividly explained to the lady on the other end that his best friend believed himself to be someone else. The lady immediately promised to send an ambulance with qualified staff and when the vehicle arrived shortly after I opened the door delighted. When asked where the patient was, I decided to lead the nice gentlemen directly to him myself, in the interests of efficiency.  «No, I am not the one you think I am. » «Of course not, replied the friendly gentleman, before they carried him off, strapped into a tidy package. «Please help my friend », I said urgently and wistfully watched the vehicle for a while.

«Are you listening to me at all? You’ve been sitting at the window for days, staring at the moon and the stars. It’s weird; you look like a zombie or a sun worshipper or something like that? » Adam‘s voice sounded like it was coming from afar! Majestically I sat on my brocade cushion at the window, my noble head resplendent with a solar corona. «A sun king? Why not?»

Copyrights: Manuela Dona

The Tomcat strikes back.

I am officially coming out as a vintage car freak – yes, I have succumbed to my passion for classic vehicles. The feeling when the adrenaline that has accumulated during the day on Tuscany’s winding roads gives way to well-earned fatigue in the evening is priceless. I am quite simply a tomcat with petrol in my veins.
But, if there is one thing that gives me even more pleasure than winding up an alpine pass in a vintage car or cruising to Trieste for an espresso, it is polishing the exquisite fireball beforehand. The way it looks, the way it feels, the smell of leather, petrol and testosterone. Every screw, every eyelet and every leather thong gets its attentive loving care and pampering.
Fortunately the garage of our upper-class villa is amply equipped with well-maintained racing cars, because Adam, my can opener, also harbours a deep passion for classic cars. One fact that restricts our harmonious life together somewhat is that they belong to him and he is only on rare occasions prepared to swap the driver’s seat with me! This is a little unsettling if it is your dream to take part in a classic rally.
I repeatedly resort to tricks to keep him away from the garage. Fictitious appointments and dates are the more harmless traps that I have set for him just to get free passage.
Last Saturday morning the following happened: Adam came into the kitchen whistling and while he was making himself an espresso, explained verbosely that the vintage car rally that had been planned for six months would not be happening for me. After careful consideration he had decided to share this irretrievable experience with his latest love interest, as she been more than keen to go.
After a brief shock-induced paralysis, I shuffled slowly to my cushion at the window, draped myself with my back to him and prepared for a counter attack. In a quiet voice I explained to him that I completely understood his decision, as she had really earned the chance to go out with him and sniff the rally air. I was also completely aware that I would only disturb their time together as a couple. What can I say; he could not believe his luck. He had obviously expected more resistance. He quickly gulped his espresso down and shot off to pack.
While he stowed his luggage, I pinched his mobile and wallet with the identity documents out of the glove compartment, sent an iMessage to his current sweetheart and cancelled the weekend. Immediately after that I used the alarm system with a direct link to the police to trigger a silent alarm. Then I phoned the police emergency number 117, pretended I was a neighbour and reported that in the house opposite a strange man had just driven out of the garage in a wickedly expensive vintage car, although the house owner was away on a trip for the weekend. Just to be on the safe side I gave them the model and number plate of the cheeky thief. Then I removed the battery from Adam‘s mobile, threw it into a flower vase and put the telephone back in its place.
When Adam left a short while later, I waved goodbye to him from the window with a smile. I counted to 100, drank a perfect espresso and got into my favourite convertible with my travel bag.
At the second set of traffic lights there was a large contingent of police and in the middle of them Adam, completely distraught and undergoing a body search. I wondered briefly how he was going to identify himself and who else could identify him, but then I stowed my sentimentality in the glove compartment and drove past the scene without any sense of regret heading for a wonderful weekend and an unfulfilled dream on four wheels!

Copyrights: Manuela Dona

BEYOND THE SILENCE. A SELF-EXPERIMENT.

I have no idea why I share my beautiful home with such an egotistic being, who can’t muster up even an iota of understanding for my situation and makes my life intolerable with his arrogance“, my can opener hurled these words at me with a flush of anger in his face. In your eyes things are either good or bad, valuable or worthless, beautiful or ugly, black or white. You think someone either has an athletic body or looks like a pudding, there is no second or third place, only first and last. I only hear the terms mediocrity or average from you when you are referring to someone else, because the world revolves around extremes in your opinion, without grey zones or colours.”
I simply don’t understand! Weeks before he had been so secretive and spoke in riddles. His secrecy was so obvious that it practically stank of a catastrophe. His behaviour set alarm bells ringing in my head, warning me in the shrillest tones of the approaching disaster. What was all this about? What was he up to? And then the moment of disclosure had obviously arrived. „So tell me, what do you think? He stuttered like an excited toddler. I really put a lot of thought into finding the best way to optimise our work-life balance! What do you think of our holiday destination this year? Only silence, spirituality and new stimuli. No responsibility and no stressful sightseeing-programme. I was speechless. He wanted to lock us up behind monastery walls, maybe even with an inclusive fasting, self-discovery and yoga course. I flashed my claws for a moment on a wild impulse, but, with our silk wallpaper in mind, just about managed to get them under control again. I struggled to keep my composure but gave nothing away. I slowly turned my back to him and walked out of the room in slow motion with my shoulders stooped and dragging my feet. On the threshold I said with a sepulchral voice: „You don’t seriously think that I’m going to spend my well-deserved holiday in a silent monastery just so you can work on your failed self-discovery fantasy!“ I definitely won’t spend the night in a barren cell and listen to you gnawing on a biscuit that you managed to smuggle in. After all I have certain standards. Besides, you won’t stay the course anyway. I’m going to book a holiday now that suits my status and my social standing on this planet. I’ll write you a postcard if you give me the address of your bunk!“ I then closed the door quietly from the other side and revelled in the astonished silence. But not for long. The screaming that followed, along the lines of the start of this text, could be heard three streets away and could only be quelled by an emergency visit from the doctor, a sedative injection and the subsequent administering of a double whiskey. „For goodness sake, man, pull yourself together, you’re stressing me out so much that I’d voluntarily go into a monastery to get away from your screaming! Life is one big pilgrimage“, I continued to convince him, while he cried in a whimpering voice and I rocked him in my arms like a baby, who simply does not want to understand. Real life is not black and white, it’s as colourful as we are!“

Copyrights © Manuela Dona