A Cat From Canada Book 2 by Bassam Imam - HTML preview

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 BUGSY

 

As soon as I reached the 800 block of Orwell Street I spotted a large green directional sign indicating a highway and a junction. I stopped in my tracks then studied my options very carefully. What I did next would almost certainly have a strong effect on my life; my entire lifeline depended upon it.

 

I stared at the sign for roughly a minute before picking up he faint sound of a vehicle approaching. I turned to get a better look at the vehicle. I couldn’t be sure, maybe, it was the police, or worse yet the RCMP.

 

Thankfully, as the vehicle continued to get closer I realized that it wasn’t the law. On the contrary, it was a shiny gray-coloured van. I waited for the van to pass me, but instead the driver slowed down then stopped beside me.

 

I placed myself on red alert; if the driver posed a serious danger to me I could try to run away, or stay and flight.

 

The driver rolled down the window opposite his side, grinned at me, and then spoke. “Hey, kitty, I’m going to Quebec. If you’re going that way too hop on in?”

 

I was adamant about going west. Till then, I thought that nothing could change my mind.

 

“Hey kitty, it’s okay if you don’t want to get into my van.

 

But I must warn you; there’s a killer cat on the loose. All the news stations are covering the big story. People in the Lambert, Ontario and surrounding areas are strongly advised not to walk alone at night until the killer cat is either apprehended, killed, or leaves the entire area.

 

The police and RCMP are in the process of putting up roadblocks even animal control has been called in to help.

 

Animal control will try to go through the animal grapevine, perhaps there’s an animal out there that has vital information to convey. Besides, the reward is now 2 million dollars.”

 

Wow, this guy was really filling me in on what was going on. I really needed his information. But there was more that I needed to know.

 

“Sir, do the authorities know what the cat’s name is?”

 

“Yes, they do. He goes by the name Citizen Cat. The camera in the apartment building he lived in wasn’t working too well. He got lucky in this regard. But the police do have a basic composite to go by. Furthermore, they suspect he’s going out west. The killer cat’s brutality began in Belmont Ontario witnesses have come forward claiming to have seen him in different locations west of Belmont. Now, he’s here.

 

Kitty, if you ask me, I’m dead certain he’ going out west, maybe to Vancouver. I wouldn’t do that if I was him. I’m almost certain the authorities there have already been notified.”

 

“Excuse me sir, what part of Quebec are you going to?”

 

“I’m going to Astoria North. I can drop you off in the general area.”

 

Just as I was pondering about whether to go east or not I took notice of a speeding police car, siren lights on, and siren blasting away. I had to get into the van.

 

“Yes sir, I’m going to Astoria too. I mean, the last thing I want to do is meet up with the killer cat, or any killer for that matter.”

 

I took a couple of steps toward the van and then leaped into it landing beside the driver. The driver was a short man, perhaps just over five feet tall, of African descent, and had an aura of friendliness around him.

 

A moment later, we were off. I tried not to make it obvious but I kept shifting my gaze onto the rear-view mirror. I had to know what the story was with the rapidly oncoming police car. As it got closer and closer I became more anxious, until thank goodness the police car passed us without incident. Apparently, there was an emergency elsewhere.

 

“Hi kitty, my name is Amado Bembola, I was born in Senegal. I’ve lived in Canada for 45 years. I came here when I was a young 20 year-old man. Back then I was handsome, had no white hairs on my scalp, and was many pounds lighter. Not to mention I was considerably healthier and more athletic. Kitty, no one can evade the aging process and don’t you let anyone even a world renowned physician say otherwise.

 

So kitty what’s you name by the way?”

 

I froze up, unable to say a word. I had two problems at hand, first was Amado’s family name. Bembola sounded like Ebola. I was terrified; really, I wasn’t being paranoid but I knew that there’d been an Ebola epidemic in West Africa and there were reported cases in the Senegal. Second, I had to brainstorm for a name.

 

Amado’s expression changed, from a grand smile to a slight frown. He had suspicions regarding my silence.

 

“Umm, my name is Tommy, yes, Tommy Wilson. And I’m originally from Ontario. I’m travelling the country at present, when all is done I’ll return to Ontario.”

 

“Oh, what a joy, you and I must meet up again. I have a clear schedule. I’m a retired university professor, I taught at the University of Astoria. I have a doctoral degree in Anthropology. Unfortunately, I was so busy with my research and teaching there was no time to get married and become a father. Well, I have a couple of black cats at home. I guess you can say they’re my ‘pretend kids’. They’re really smart.

 

“Janet and Eric are also my best friends in the whole world. Don’t worry while I’m gone my next door neighbor takes care of my kids. I can’t wait to return back home. I think the four of us would get along really well.”

 

Underneath the sweet talk was an anxious, unsure man. Somehow, I sensed a un-ease about him. I’m not talking about hatred or anger. Amado was genuinely friendly. But I guess I may have said something that irritated him, or maybe my prolonged silence was interpreted as something bad.

 

“Amado I really do appreciate this free ride. You don’t know how desperate I am. Can you imagine how stressful it would be for a cat to hitch a ride at night? I don’t have to tell you there are many dangerous people out there, worse yet, some of them like to inflict their cruel and sadistic fantasies upon innocent cats like myself.”

 

“Tommy, I know exactly what you’re talking about. I studied about this subject in undergrad school. Some peoples practice traditions that entail burning, lynching, or torturing cats. These peoples are lost. But the individual psychopaths who perform these acts are truly evil. As a general rule they enjoy torturing animals. Most certainly cats above all other animals, and most so black cats especially during the dreaded Halloween season. I tell my two cats to be extremely careful beginning one week before Halloween day stretching to a few days following the dreaded day.

 

And now, there’s a killer cat on the loose. This is only going to give the cat hating community more push and drive to help weaken animal welfare protections, for all animal species especially cats and dogs. Dogs have it bad too some breeds rank over all others; the bigger and stronger and meaner they look the more vengeful society is upon them.”

 

Amado was sincere. Beads of sweat poured down his temples. I guess he was really entrenched in his speech. Amado made one stop to get food. We each had a falafel sandwich, fries, large drink, and a jelly filled donut. Although I insisted on paying he refused outright, saying that I was his guest, therefore, he had to pay for the gas, all meals, and any other costs.

 

Amado turned on the radio then searched through the stations, stopping at an evening talk show. By midnight he and I had become quite groggy. I tried to stay awake but couldn’t because my eyelids became too heavy for me to lift.

 

I fell into a deep sleep having one dream after another. I felt quite comfortable sitting beside Amado. It’s nice conversing with someone from a different race. Back in Belmont I only conversed with rich white folks while living in our upscale neighborhood.

 

I was abruptly awakened by the sound of motor vehicles passing us. I found myself in a strange place and strange time. It was 3:00 P.M. How strange, I wondered. I was lying on my back on short grass beside a Metro (Subway) station. What, this is even stranger, I thought. And where was Amado? I wondered.

 

As soon as I began to right myself a piece of paper that was on my abdomen slipped onto the ground. Huh, what is this? I asked myself. Oh gosh, it was a letter. It was only logical that I read it.

 

Dear Tommy Wilson:

 

I dropped you off several miles from downtown Astoria very close to Metro Station X. I guess you’re wondering what happened, and why I didn’t wait until you awakened to say goodbye.

 

Well, although I love cats in general, and you specifically, shortly after you entered my van I got the feeling that you felt uncomfortable being so close to me. You took quite a long time to answer me when I asked you what your name was. And there were other peculiarities too.

 

I can only guess that you felt uncomfortable near me because I’m a Muslim, ormaybe because I’m black or foreign born or my family name ‘Bembola’. It rhymes with and sounds kind of like Ebola. You probably thought that I was an Ebola virus carrier.

 

Either way, Tommy, listen up! I’ve always prided myself as being a calm person, but I’ve run out of steam when it comes to enduring racism or anything related to it.

 

Tommy, please don’t think that I’m calling you a racist; I think your problem has to do with early or maybe adult socialization. You sound very upscale and white Anglo Saxon. I’m probably the first black human that you’ve ever spoken to. Tommy, I know for a fact that you were hiding something from me. And that’s not all you’re running from someone or something. Please, if you’re running from danger always watch your back and be very careful about who you trust and open up to.

 

The white hairs on my scalp are testament to my life’s experience. Whatever happens, Tommy, I wish you the very best of luck. And maybe if our initial meeting had been different things would’ve turned out right between us.

 

I would’ve loved to have you meet my two kids. I’m certain they would’ve loved you to death. One more cat in the family means more fun and pleasure, and variety too. Sincerely Yours,

 

Dr. Amado Bembola

 

I was utterly shocked! How could Amado even imagine that I could prejudge him in any way, shape, or form? He gave me a free ride and fed me. I don’t know, maybe Amado was becoming a bit senile in his later years.

 

There was no time to waste. I had to know exactly where I was relative to the downtown core. For starters I had no idea in which direction north, south, east, or west were in.

 

I righted myself and then approached Elm Street. Unfortunately I had no way of knowing whether the Street ran north to south and vice versa. I decided to ask a passerby. I’d have to wait until the right person came by.

 

Unfortunately, there were too many people walking to and fro here and there. Most of them were youngsters; school was out. I had to play predator, zooming in on a lone desperate- looking person.

 

I spotted a young boy who appeared to be about 10 years of age walking alone towards the metro station. Though he appeared to be in a hurry, he also looked nice.

 

This kid was Asian-looking, most likely Chinese Canadian, born and bred right here in Canada and from a rich neighbourhood. His school uniform signified that his parents had and were willing to put up the money to give him a good education.

 

I approached the kid head-on but without appearing anxious or angry. I carried a grin on my face but made certain to hide my canines exposed canines may be perceived as indicative of aggressive intent.

 

Initially he walked right past me, oblivious of my presence. I caught up to him right before he opened the door to enter the metro station.

 

I gently yanked on his pant let using my left paw, causing the kid to stop in his tracks. The first thing he did thereafter was look back. Seeing no one he turned and then was ready to take his first step into the metro station.

 

“Hey, kid, I need to ask you something, okay?”

 

“Wow, you’re a cat! I’ve never been stopped by a at before. What’s going on?”

 

By now a small crowd was beginning to form. The last thing I needed was to be noticed by a large group of people. Technically, I was still a cat on the run.

 

I pointed my right forepaw to a secluded place across the street and into an alleyway. The kid agreed to go there with me. “Gosh kitty, are you lost or something?”

 

“Well, kind of, that’s why I need to ask you some questions, is that okay with you?”

 

“Sure, no problem, my parents taught me to be polite to anyone who needed directions, but they also told me to use discretion. If the person appears mentally unstable or dangerous I’m supposed to walk away.

 

We crossed Elm Street and then walked to the alleyway and entered it. Shortly thereafter, we began to converse.

 

“Hey guy, thanks for taking time out to help me. As you suspect, I’m new in town. I’m originally from Ontario, moved here several hours ago and don’t know in which direction north, south, east, and west are.”

 

“Kitty, I can show you from here. (He pointed in four separate directions and said the words north, south, east, and west each time he pointed). That’s the Astoria City Park, over there. If you continue to walk through and past the park you’ll reach the downtown core in about 20 minutes. If you want to find an apartment, search for one from on Granger Street heading west until the Metro Station C area. If you want, you can go a little further east, but I recommend that you stay within walking distance of this particular metro station.

 

Therein, you can find anything that you want. I think that you’re searching for an apartment, right”

 

“Yes I am, but I can spend some time sleeping wherever I please, so long as it’s clean, safe, and secluded. Because I’m a cat I can easily sleep in a park or any clean and safe place. But I must always keep an eye out for animal control or an over- zealous, cat-hating officer of the law. I don’t stink easily like humans do. And remember, I can use my tongue as an incredible cleanser.”

 

Honestly, deep down inside I wanted to find a decent apartment to live in. The thing is I didn’t want the kid to know too much about me. Although he seemed like a very nice person, chances are he was going to tell his parents and friends about his chance meeting with an incredible cat.

 

The kid opened his lunch bag and then brandished a tuna sandwich, a deluxe oatmeal cookie, and a bottle of orange juice.

 

“Kitty, please do me the honour of taking this food and drink off my chest. One of my friends at school gave me his lunch because he had a tummy ache. I can’t eat this. If my parents see this food in my lunch box they’ll go ballistic.”

 

Instantly, I stood on my hind legs and then waited for the kid to give me his food and drink. He obliged me therefore I grinned at him, and then thanked him ever-so-earnestly. He said that it was an honour then walked away.

 

Although I was delighted at being given a free meal by a stranger I was also sad to see him go. What an incredibly friendly kid.

 

Falling back on my prehistoric animal instincts I wasted no time. I ripped the wrapper off of the tuna sandwich then ate like a ravenous lion. Then, I swallowed the oatmeal cookie whole, washing it down with orange juice. I burped several times following my quite tasty meal. Whoever this boy was, one thing was for certain his parents really cared for him.

 

The kid crossed Elm Street, stopped, and then turned to face me. He didn’t take notice of any passersby or vehicles crossing our path. It was really sad, because I could see tears streaming down his cheeks. He sniffled then spoke, “umm, kitty, my name is Anthony Kim you can find me here every Monday through Friday when I’m going to school and returning home. I always take the Metro. You can often find me in downtown Astoria and also its beautiful city park over there. My parents take me out to eat at least a couple of times a week; the Astoria Centre food court is the best and largest indoor place to eat in. It’s also my favourite eating hangout. If you see me in any food court or restaurant with my parents don’t be afraid or too shy to approach us. My parents are really nice.

 

My father’s an orthopaedic specialist, my mom’s a neurologist. They love animals, well, dogs are their favourite but I think they’ll love you too. You’re so pretty and cute.

 

Your body is stream-lined and athletic-looking. Bye, I’ll see you soon.”

 

Anthony turned away then continued his walk to the metro station. Thereafter, a congregation of people and a city bus blocked my view. Although I really liked Anthony there was absolutely no way I could open up to a 10 year-old boy. I had too many secrets to hide, more so I didn’t know how long my stay in the area would be for.

 

The sun’s rays were radiating on the other side of the street. As such, I stayed on my side walking due east to the Westmount Park. I needed to see trees, grass, and plants, and to relax. Besides, therein I could see other animals like myself. Many home cats and dogs go insane, I mean, their owners don’t understand, we animals must see our own kind on a regular basis. We’re not humans, we’ll never be humans, and we certainly don’t want to be humans.

 

While walking, passersby crossed to the other side of the street after they looked at my face. Initially, I didn’t know why. I entered Astoria City Park and then proceeded to walk to a nearby pond. The fear in the eyes of passersby didn’t disappear. An elderly woman on a cane almost lost her balance as soon as she saw me, and that’s not all, she yelled out ‘oh dear a wild animal’. She was looking right at me when she uttered those humiliating words.

 

I froze the expression on my face until I reached the pond and looked at my own reflection. When I saw my reflection it became apparent why passersby were fearful of me. I’d inadvertently manifested an enraged feline expression. Instantly, I relaxed my muscles, and made certain that the expression on my face appeared neutral or semi-happy.

Apparently, the loss of Anthony along with the rest of the calamities had an inherently powerful affect on my mood, so much so my facial muscles cringed without my consciously knowing so.

 

I raised my head then scanned the entire area making a slow carousel-like turn in the process. Humans were going about their business, but for the time being I was more interested in what the animals were doing.

 

A family of geese swam by me. They grinned at me, so I grinned back at them. “Hey guys, is this a safe place for a cat to spend his days and nights in, and what about sleeping in the park?”

 

“Kitty, just act normal and whenever you see a person wearing a security uniform don’t look scared or anxious. Just give the person a short-lived smile and nod your head. Then, slowly look away. If you have I.D. and a place to live in, or you live with a human/s don’t worry about animal control. Otherwise, be earnestly wary. It really depends on the officer’s personality and mood when contact is made. But generally, they don’t come to this part of town.

 

As for the Astoria Police, don’t make eye contact with any one of them, male or female alike, unless it’s necessary. If you make too much eye contact the officer will think you’re hiding something sinister. Don’t jaywalk. This is one municipal violation that’ll get you to jail if you don’t have I.D.

 

One more thing, when the sun sets watch out for teens, some of them love to torment cats and geese too. We’re not allowed to take food from strangers at night according to Municipal Bylaw #11775-AB555. During the day we’re requested to use common sense and concentrated discretion. Some humans get off on poisoning innocent animals. I guess they think it’s really funny to sicken and kill an animal for absolutely no justifiable reason,” said the mother goose.

 

“Madam, I’ve got a giant cookie in my shoulder bag. Can I toss it to you and your youngsters?”

 

“Yes, honey, you certainly can. But don’t toss it into the water, it’ll get all soggy really fast and then break up. Toss it at my beak.

 

I removed the giant cookie from my shoulder bag and then tossed it into the mother goose’s mouth. She held it firmly in her beak allowing her goslings to eat their fill. After they were done the mother goose swallowed what little was left. I was overwhelmed by her love for her goslings. I wish I had a mother like her.

 

I left the bank of the pond carrying a big smile on my face. To tell you the truth I didn’t know where to go next. I still had a while before sunset though, so the day was still young. I decided to scan the entire park once again. Following this, I decided to walk through and then on the perimeter of the park. I figured it would be good exercise and I could clear my mind. A clear mind can do wonders for a person’s thinking.

 

No sooner had I taken my first step I heard someone calling out to me, “Hey, PSST, you, the cute-looking athletic cat. Come here, I’ve got something important to tell you.”

 

I zoomed in on the location of the voice using my ears and eyes. It was a pregnant squirrel staring at me. Huh, I wondered. Why would this young and beautiful squirrel really be calling out to me; could she have a crush on me? I wondered.

 

As I made my cautious approach the squirrel she maintained eye contact, not even shifting a muscle in the process.

 

“Honey, don’t be apprehensive, okay. I was born and raised in this park. This is my home, I never cause trouble here.”

 

As I got a closer look at her it became apparent that she’d been crying. I felt a strong urge to help her.

 

“Hey, what’s going on here? Did someone hurt you? If so, tell me who, I’ll give that person a licking. Come here, meet me atop this bench.”

 

We walked to a nearby bench and then leaped onto it. I braced myself for some sad news. “Mr. Cat, what’s your name?”

 

“My name, umm, my name is Tommy Wilson, what’s your name?”

 

“I’m Cynthia Hammer. I called out to you because I’m very worried about that man over there sitting alone on the other side of the pond. He’s sitting on the bench beside the big tree near the public restrooms, over there.”

 

“What’s the matter with him?” I asked.

 

“Tommy, that man’s been coming here every single day for weeks-on-end. He just sits there, bows his head, palms his face and then cries his brains out. I didn’t know how to approach him. I’m a squirrel he may think my true intent is to acquire food or money from him.

 

Tommy, I can’t stop thinking about that man. Can you go over there and see what’s wrong with him? If you do I’ll consider this an act of true heroism.”

 

That was enough for me. I walked around the pond and then approached the man in a straightforward manner; there was no time to waste. As far as I was concerned he may have been suicidal.

 

As I made my approach I looked him up and down several times. I kind of understood why he was depressed. I mean, he was a short, pudgy, middle-aged man, mediocre-looking at best. What I mean is this is the man who’ll make women’s heads turn away from him in repulsion.

 

“Hey, Mister, are you okay? What happened to you? You come here every single day, cry your brains out, and as far as I know, tell no-one about your problems. I think it is past time that you to open up to someone. Why not a cat; cats are naturally nosey and suspicious.”

 

“What the heck. No one else seems to care about me. And by the way, for what little it’s worth, thank you a million times over. You’re the first person that stopped to take time out for me. Because you’re that caring of a person, I’ll open up to you.

 

I leaped onto the bench he was seated in, shifting my gaze and sliding closer to him. Then, I leaped onto his chest and rested my paws on his lapels.

 

“All right Mister, now tell me your sad story and don’t leave anything out. I promise I’m not the kind of cat who likes to mock peoples’ mistakes and sad news.”

 

“Oh sorry kitty, I need to formally introduce myself before I can proceed. I can’t open up to you if we don’t know each other’s names. My name is Walter Shorter. I was born in Astoria North, I’m 55 years old, have never been married, and can’t hold a normal job for long.”

 

“Walter, my name is Tommy Wilson. Glad to meet you, please begin your story.”

 

“Tommy, I’m in a really big bind. You see, my story involves a real bombshell of a woman. Out of a scale of one to ten she’s an eleven or maybe a twelve without exaggeration.

 

We were previously engaged; it lasted for 3 months before my fiancé’ fell into a coma. She was in that state for about 6 weeks. The doctors said that the coma was caused by taking expired meds.

 

Samantha, my fiancé came out of her coma a couple of weeks ago. She’s making an incredible recovery. So much so, the doctors told her family that she’ll be out of the Astoria General Hospital in three days.”

 

“My gosh, Walter, that’s fantastic news! And I suppose she has no long-term physical or mental disabilities or problems?”

 

“That’s correct, except for one matter. (Walter broke down I had to paw his face in order to get him to continue his story). She had a specific form of amnesia. The only matter that she forgot was our relationship. She doesn’t even remember meeting me.”

 

Now I was starting to get the picture. I didn’t want to say this before, but considering the facts of his story, I must convey the whole truth, Walter had a stuttering problem and the right side of his jaw was slightly deformed.

 

“Tommy, when I first met Samantha she laughed at me with extreme cruelty and ferocity. She called me an ugly freak too.

 

She and I passed each other regularly in this park. Then one day I found her wallet. It was full of cash and important identification and credit cards. I called her home, she came to the park to retrieve her wallet and I guess she saw the beauty in me.

 

Tommy, I’m scared. There’s more bad news. Her parents and four siblings hate my guts. They think I’m a loser. There’s no way around their hatred and mockery of me.”

 

Still yet, I suspected that Walter had another bit of bad news but was afraid to open up to me. So, I went into cat mode. I re-cupped his face with my paws and then practically smothered my face against his. Then, I said what I had to say, “Walter, tell me the rest of your story, I promise I won’t laugh at you.”

 

“Tommy, I visited her at the hospital yesterday evening after visiting hours. I had to make sure that her family wasn’t there. Otherwise, all hell would’ve broken loose.

 

As soon as I entered the ICU ward the nurse on desk duty spoke to me. She thought I was the relief janitor. I went along with it, telling her that I’d be ready for work in a few minutes. Thank goodness she believed me.

 

I entered Samantha’s room. She was wide awake. Upon seeing me she conveyed an expression of outright terror. Her eyes bulged, out of utter fear and she cupped her mouth with her right palm. She told me to get out; that she didn’t want to see any ugliness in her room, and that she was already too sick and didn’t want to throw up on her hospital gown.”

 

“Walter, thereafter you walked out of her room?”

 

“No, not yet, I tried to tell her who I was, but she cut me off. She shouted then screamed obscenities at me. That’s when I got the heck out of her room. I took the elevator to the ground floor. I ran to the nearest exit but not before I had to ram my way past a security guard. The force of my impact dropped him onto the