While Strangling the Cat by Brian Jackson

Brian Jackson is an amateur writer who is trying, like many others, to get his words read. He is retired and lives with his wife, Melanie, a published author, in the sierra foothills. Brian is the editor in cheif of DRR.

Billy Weber sat in a rocking chair on his front porch while strangling the cat. It was a beautiful, sunny, spring day. The grass was freshly mowed and showed a deep, verdant green. The flowers in the beds along the front of his house were in full bloom and the birds were twittering gaily as they winged back and forth across the yard. There was a gentle breeze that shook the large elm trees that shaded the street out front. Billy could hear kids playing tag several houses down, arguing over whether one or the other of them was safe or "it".

The first tangible thought that came to Billy's mind while strangling the cat was weather Mrs. Holloway, his next store neighbor, would be baking today. It seemed that every sunny day in spring Mrs. Holloway was baking cakes, pies, and aromatic loaves of homemade bread. In fact, Mrs. Holloway was such a fair weather baker that the smell coming from her kitchen was a more accurate barometer of fair days to come than the local weather man.

Ah, well, Billy supposed he would just have to take a saunter by and see if he could get a bite of something fresh baked after he was done. Yearnings for sweet apple pie alamode, heavily seasoned with cinnamon, and fresh baked cherry cobbler, straight from the oven, harried Billy's thoughts to distraction. That and the anticipation of Mrs. Holloway's freshly brewed chamomile tea.

As he closed his eyes and took in a deep satisfying breath of fresh air, the cat in his lap jerked and managed to partially free itself from his grasp. Billy heard the animal take in a deep ragged breath before he could clamp his hands down once more upon its throat. Oh, swell, Billy thought. I supposed that I'll be having to start all over again now that it's caught its breath.

Again the cat jerked in a spasmodic attempt to free itself, but this time Billy was ready. Digging his fingers deep beneath the fur and into the skin of the animal's neck he clamped down hard with strong, callused hands. He heard tendons crack and bones creak as he did so, but knew from experience that he had not accidentally broken the animal's neck. And that put an end to the struggling, alright.

Bearing down on the creature brought to mind Billy's former rodeo days. He had been a young whippersnapper then, afraid of nothing and willing do nearly anything for the cost of a pack of smokes. It was those days which most likely led to Billy's vice tight grip. That and wielding a shovel in the army. Those days were long past too, but the grip still remained.

As Billy waited, his attention was drawn back to the street where a couple of young boys rolled by on skates. The metal wheels of the new skates, which were Christmas presents received just last year, rattled across the rough asphalt. Billy supposed the wheels wouldn't stay new for much longer given that sort of treatment.

"Hello, Mr. Weber."

"Hello, Mr. Weber."

"Hello, boys. You keep your eyes out for traffic now, yah hear?"

"You bet, Mr. Weber."

"No worries, Mr. Weber."

"The traffic in town has gone plum loco with all the outsiders moving in."

"Don't worry, Mr. Weber."

"We'll be careful, Mr. Weber."

The boys, the Johnson brothers, rolled on round the corner and disappeared in the direction of the five and dime. Probably to buy candy, Billy mused as he released a dry chuckle and broke out into a contented grin.

Blue sky. Had Billy ever seen a sky so blue? The green of the trees. Was there anything more tranquil than the green of trees against the azure sky of spring? And the feel of those warming rays of sun penetrating his exposed skin.

While Billy sat admiring the day, Gussy the postman walked up the sidewalk to his home carrying a large, canvas bag over his shoulder. As usual, Gussy was only partially clad in the regulation uniform, wearing shorts and tennis shoes that didn't quite match his shirt. Gussy also had on a battered pith helmet which may or may not have been regulation.

"Morning, Billy."

"Morning, Gussy."

Rather than putting the mail in the box at the curb as he was supposed to, Gussy swung open the gate in the picket fence and carried the mail to the porch where Billy was waiting.

"Put the mail on the seat next to me if you don't mind, Gussy. I've got my hands full at the moment."

"Crimony, what is it you've got there in your lap?"

"It's the cat."

"Strangling it, are you?"

"Ay, that I am."

"Oh, ayah. Will we be seeing you at bingo this weekend?"

"Haven't missed a weekend in the last ten years."

And he hadn't. Billy was proud of this fact and liked to think that he'd be missed, possibly to the extent that they'd call off bingo for the night, if he didn't show.

"How's Mary doing with the kids?"

"Oh, just fine. Got a postcard from her just last week. The oldest grandson is now five."

"Imagine that."

Placing the mail on the seat beside Billy, Gussy spun on his heals and walked back down the path to the sidewalk. As he walked away, he waved a hand over his shoulder.

"Good day to yah, Billy"

"See you tomorrow, Gussy."

And with that, Gussy was back on his route and soon disappeared beyond the hedges separating Billy's yard from the Hutchinson's. Billy noticed that those hedges needed a trimming and made a mental note to get on that come first thing tomorrow morning.

Ah, but for now there was this beautiful day to contend with. That and the smell which would soon be wafting his way from Mrs. Holloway's kitchen. Could there be any better thoughts to concern a man's mind? Billy clamped down on the cat's neck at the contemplation of it.

As Billy sat on the porch, Mrs. Flannery walked by pushing her groceries in a pram that was now too small for little Matilda. Billy exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Flannery before she moved on. Then there was Arnold, walking his dogs, and the neighborhood kids headed to the sandlot for a game. Although Billy couldn't wave to any of them, he smiled broadly.

Coming to with a start, Billy was surprised to find that he had begun to doze off. Somehow he had managed to keep his hands clamped down on the cat's throat. I wonder if it's been time enough, Billy pondered. But when he started to loosen his grip the cat jerked again indicating that it hadn't yet given up the ghost.

I probably should have broken its neck in the first place, Billy mused. Or perhaps tightened a noose around its neck instead.

Billy was still pondering what he should have done when he heard the gate in the picket fence squeak open. Looking up he saw Ruth Mahoney walking up his path. She was dressed to the nines, at least where morning attire was concerned. Seeing her approach made Billy uncomfortable, forming a lump in his throat.

"Morning, Ruth.

"Morning, Billy.

No, was it already Friday? Billy wondered. Where had the week gone? Although he had remembered his promise to have breakfast with Ruth on Friday, he had completely lost track of the day. Oh, well, things like that happen when you grow old he supposed.

"I wonder if you'd mind taking a seat while I finish up here, Ruth?"

"No, not at all. What is it you'd be up to then?"

"Oh, just strangling the cat."

"And how many more would you have to do?"

"Just the one here."

Billy and Ruth sat together on the porch sharing the sunshine of a perfect day. They smiled to one another and giggled uncomfortably as men and women were want to do when together, no matter the age.

"So, how is Mary?"

"Fine, just fine. Got a postcard from her just last week. You know, the oldest grandson is five now."

"No. Imagine that."

Silence once more fell upon the couple. They sat peacefully smiling and surveying their surroundings. As they did so, Billy felt himself begin to relax. If only it wasn't for the cat he could really make himself comfortable. Never the less, Billy felt that he was sharing something special with Ruth just sitting in silence on this sunny, spring day.

After a time Billy decided that they had waited long enough. Freeing his grip on the cat, the limp body remained lying in his lap, unmoving. No breath came from the animal and no muscle twitched. Billy set the cat's body aside on the porch as he rose to his feet.

"Wait here while I step inside to wash my hands and get my coat."

Ruth smiled and nodded her head as Billy swung the screen door open and stepped inside.

"Nice kitty. Pretty kitty."

She purred to the body of the cat while Billy was gone. When he returned, she rose from her seat and allowed him to guide her down the path to the sidewalk.

© 2009 by Brian Jackson