On Cats by Charles Bukowski

Author:Charles Bukowski [Bukowski, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781782117261
Publisher: Canongate Books

∫

night work

my cat leaped into the fireplace

burning

as Van Gogh

slit the rear screen

and entered

looking for the blue whore

of nowhere.

∫

One day I was standing around, waiting as usual, not friendly with the gang, no longer really wanting to be, when Gene rushed up to me, “Hey, Henry, come on!”

“What is it?”

“COME ON!”

Gene started running and I ran after him. We ran down the driveway and into the Gibsons’ backyard. The Gibsons had a large brick wall all around their backyard.

“LOOK! HE’S GOT THE CAT CORNERED! HE’S GOING TO KILL IT!”

There was a small white cat backed into a corner of the wall. It couldn’t go up and it couldn’t go in one direction or the other. Its back was arched and it was spitting, its claws ready. But it was very small and Chuck’s bulldog, Barney, was growling and moving closer and closer. I got the feeling that the cat had been put there by the guys and then the bulldog had been brought in. I felt it strongly because of the way Chuck and Eddie and Gene were watching: they had a guilty look.

“You guys did this,” I said.

“No,” said Chuck, “it’s the cat’s fault. It came in here. Let it fight its way out.”

“I hate you bastards,” I said.

“Barney’s going to kill that cat,” said Gene.

“Barney will rip it to pieces,” said Eddie. “He’s afraid of the claws but when he moves in it will be all over.”

Barney was a large brown bulldog with slobbering jaws. He was dumb and fat with senseless brown eyes. His growl was steady and he kept inching forward, the hairs standing up on his neck and along his back. I felt like kicking him in his stupid ass but I figured he would rip my leg off. He was entirely intent upon the kill. The white cat wasn’t even fully grown. It hissed and waited, pressed against the wall, a beautiful creature, so clean. The dog moved slowly forward. Why did the guys need this? This wasn’t a matter of courage, it was just dirty play. Where were the grown-ups? Where were the authorities? They were always around accusing me. Now where were they? I thought of rushing in, grabbing the cat and running, but I didn’t have the nerve. I was afraid that the bulldog would attack me. The knowledge that I didn’t have the courage to do what was necessary made me feel terrible. I began to feel physically sick. I was weak. I didn’t want it to happen yet I couldn’t think of any way to stop it.

“Chuck,” I said, “let the cat go, please. Call your dog off.”

Chuck didn’t answer. He just kept watching.

Then he said, “Barney, go get him! Get that cat!”

Barney moved forward and suddenly the cat leaped. It was a furious blur of white and hissing, claws and teeth. Barney backed off and the cat retreated to the wall again.

“Go get him, Barney,” Chuck said again.

“God damn you, shut up!” I told him.

“Don’t talk to me that way,” Chuck said.

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