(In memory of Cat Blue)
Cara looked up, and was surprised to see a cat looking back at her.
The fact that a cat was sitting there did not surprise her; she did, after all, work at a veterinary clinic Tuesdays and Thursdays after school.
Nor was she surprised at the appearance of the cat. It was quite ordinary looking, a large shaggy thing with gray fur and amber eyes.
What surprised her was that the cat appeared to be reading her copy of Dante's Inferno.
She dropped her head to her open calculus text. She stared at the equation for the tangent of a line to the curve f(x)=4x³-8x²+5, idly wondering just how such information would help her be a productive member of society in the years ahead, and began counting to ten.
She had reached seven and was starting to believe she had been imagining it when a low, pleasant voice enquired, "Excuse me, but I don't think you should be napping on the job."
Cara snapped her head up guiltily. "I'm sorry, I just thought I saw -- "
She stopped. She looked around. "Who said that?"
"I did."
The cat continued staring at her, one paw on her copy of Inferno. She stared back at it for a moment. "Who?"
"It was I," replied the cat serenely.
Cara attempted to respond, but could produce no more than a tremulous "You -- you -- wha -- but -- "
The cat continued. "You know, I doubt Dr. Starr is paying you to gawk at me."
Cara repeated her earlier comments.
"Or to do your schoolwork, for that matter. Though I must say," it went on, glancing down at the book it was reading, "I do find this particular work fascinating. I started it last week, you know, when you left it on the grooming table. It has a literary richness that I've only been able to find in Shakespeare's finest dramas." It closed the book and stretched. "I do love to lose myself in a good book."
Cara, finding her repeated attempts at coherency to be useless, gave it up and merely let her mouth gape open.
"My name is Cat Blue, by the way."
Cara, drawing on her vast intellect and knowledge of linguistics, responded by saying absolutely nothing at all.
The cat glared at her archly. "It's rather impolite to stare, you know."
Finally, Cara regained her composure enough to reply, "Well, it's rather impolite of you to startle me like that!"
Cat Blue twitched his ears. "I beg your pardon, but I don't quite understand what you're getting at."
She closed her calculus book with a bang. "Cats... are not ... supposed ... to talk! They are supposed to meow or purr or hiss or growl or something like that, but they are most definitely not supposed to talk!"
The cat stared at her curiously. "Well, whyever not?"
"It -- it -- that's just how it is! Humans talk, dogs bark, and cats meow! Cats do not speak English, and so I'd like you to please stop it now!"
"I can speak some other language, if you wish. ¿Voudriez-vous préférer cela je parle Français?"
Cara slammed her hands over her ears and began singing "Particle Man."
Cat Blue stood up, giving the closed book before him one last longing glance before returning his gaze to her. "Well, I was hoping we could perhaps discuss literature together when you had finished your calculus, but if you're going to be rude about it, I'll be leaving now." He jumped from the table and disappeared down the hall.
Cara sighed. "I gotta get out more."
She opened her calculus book and got back to work.