Diamond.

My cat.

Where has the time gone? In what past time did I become the person I see now?

I always remembered the lonely child sitting in the corner of the playground. Picking at woolly mammoth caterpillars; Dismembering them. No one seemed to notice the poor child. Even through loneliness, you could still hear little embodiments of laughter coming from the desolate area of where she played. Many adults tried to get her to play with the other children, but she just scanned over the little beings. With a look of fear, disgust, and somewhat envy she shook her head, and pushed them away.

Some would whisper as she walked by, her fists clenched. They’d whisper words of hurt and gossip. About her mother, and how she never came. About how scary and different she was from them. Even teachers would leave the girl alone. Was it her aura? Was it how she looked? But she always had a smile on her face. Whenever anyone came around, I remember it feeling almost mandatory that I smiled. Was that the reason they stayed away? But children are supposed to smile, and behave. A lesson most parents try to teach their kids. But always fail, because they feel bad.

Sadly, that child was me. I always felt that it was proper etiquette to behave around your friends and family. How did I learn that? It was most definitely not my mother. For she had little time for others besides herself. Maybe it was my Grandmother. Possibly, but she had difficult times trying not to drink, and have self restraint, so, maybe not. It was for the simple fact that adults that I’ve seen, never acted the way children did, or any of my family for that matter. Being with my mother to go to her Therapist every month, I had to learn through them. I wouldn’t think any child would want to be rowdy in that environment. Though, most would disagree. Quiet time was the perfect time to do anything.

I’d always look back on that day. The day I met a calico cat I liked to call Diamond. It was a he, obviously. Only yellow calicos are male. Or so I’ve heard. But I loved that cat. He was a stray, but I didn’t care. He was mine, and as far as I was concerned, always going to be there.

Around my house, there was sand. Really soft, warm sand. Under the living room window outside, there was an opening to under the house, somewhat big enough for a child to crawl through.

On one warm and sunny day, Diamond brought me some lunch. Well, his lunch to show me. Anyways, he dropped it and waited for me to pick it up. It was a dead blackbird. I remember it so because it was pure black, with a hint of rainbows in it. It was quite beautiful, and I adored it.

I would usually talk with Diamond. Telling him that I loved to dissect animals, seeing their insides in glittering light was a spectacle indeed. Of course I told him I liked it if it was dead first. I didn’t like having to kill them.

Anyways, back on the subject at hand, I took the fragile body into the sunlight by the opening under the house. I placed it on a paper plate I usually keep under the house to put my animals on.  Diamond sat right next to me, eager for me to examine the bird.

I don’t know exactly what I said to him, but it was along these lines, “Thank you Diamond! It’s beautiful. Did you want me to give it to you when I’m done? You must be hungry. I’m sorry I don’t have cat food, but this is better, right?”

So I sat there, dissecting the poor black bird. I took its feathers off, and placed them aside. I was making sure they wouldn’t float off somewhere.Taking a stick, and some tweezers I somehow cut the bird open. In an array of beautiful reds, blues, blacks, yellows, purples, and whites. The sun danced off the intestines of the small creature. You could see every color vividly. In a way, it was gory, gooey, and in every way, revolting to look at. But at the same time, it was amazing.  Something seemed magical whenever I opened up the insides of an animal.

I wanted to know how it would feel like to continue to torture the dead animal. Opening its wing, I looked at the anatomy of how it unfolded. “How pretty!~” And while that wing was delicately in my palm, I clamped down on it, and twisted it. Feeling every little bone, tendon, and muscle just crack in my power. A look of disgust and wonder filled my face. At that moment, I didn’t know how to feel. Killing something like this was indeed wrong, but it felt good. I continued to pull the wing from the joints, and successfully ripped it off.

Diamond was still sitting there, waiting intently for me to give him his long awaited lunch. Amidst all the fun I was having, I would often glance at him. Feeling it was an overdrawn amount of time for him to eat, I somewhat said, “ Oh fine, here ya go. I hope it’s yummy.”  Giving him the bloodied plate, I let him snack on it. He looked so happy. Maybe it was because he had a little girl, willing to be by his side, and he was willing to be at hers. Now that I look back on it, how lonely he must’ve been. I don’t know where he came from, or whom he belongs to, I just knew I loved him; and I suppose he felt the same way. I would guess the lonely summer afternoons, would be worth waiting for, seeing and waiting for a face that’ll welcome you in with a warm embrace.

How did he get his fabulous name, and how did he come to be a big part in my life? Well I will gladly tell you. Diamond got his name from the white diamond shaped crest on his forehead.  At the time, I didn’t want to see if he was male or female. Equally justified because he was a stray, and I was scared what he might do.

He had these deep green, and light blue eyes. I remember staring into the eyes of the cat that was about just as big as I was. Terrified? No, not really. I had a sense of bravery- for a little girl anyways. I never really worried about getting hurt, and even fatally injured. I learned real quick, an animal can look into your eyes, and know exactly what you are feeling. Why do you think they don’t always go near humans who tempt them? You’ll always know what a person is like, by looking into their eyes. That was a real strong beauty in my eyes. One of the reasons why I would obsess over them.

A magnificent beast he was. His fur was never matted unless he got into a fight; and on days like that, he’d let me clean him up. It’s an old fashion of mine, to sing to an animal while doing something strenuous to them. Fresh wounds sting and burn, music calms the soul. A perfect harmony in my opinion. I’ve noticed over the long years that doing this will indeed put the creature at a state of ease and contentment. Back at the matter at hand, he’s loudly purr in my little lap. It always seemed to confuse me when he would flicker his tail every so often. It might be because it hurt, I’ll never know. Sometimes I’d take him into the house I lived in, but he would get paranoid of my very obnoxious mother. Because of this, I’d take him to the little pool that the pipes made in the back yard. Those times were misused and severely sought upon now.

How did I meet him? Well one day I saw this huge cat across the street. I always lived by a highway, and at the end of a street. At the end of the street, was a wooden wall that was a poor excuse of keeping life on the highway separated from contemporary life. I got worried, and walked up to the large cat. I’ll never know what I truly said, but I know it was something heart warming, to a creature used to hard living.  With a flick of his tail, he looked deeply into my eyes. Something so beautiful, my mouth would fall agape. Not in full astonishment, but enough to make me look in awe.

You know, I never had a ‘real’ friend when I was little. Even my mother, wouldn’t talk to me unless I would annoy her so much to make me food. Even then, she’d complain. I even remember when I asked her to do something of the sort, and she would start to scream “You worthless piece of s**t. Can’t even f*****g make something for your damn self. Can’t you even see that I can’t do it?! I’m sick, dying, f*****g medicated. I wish I never had a child. I want to kill myself. I hate this f*****g place.” Imagine looking up on a woman you love for no reason. Not even contemplating what it means to want to ‘kill yourself’. I very well knew what death was, but not that of a loved one.

I would often go outside trying to ponder on what I should do with my situation. But while I was trying to think of things my brain could not fully comprehend, I would look at the cat sitting upon the large, dead tree trunk in my backyard. He would bring my hopes up, and I would try to talk to him on the subject. It helped me, in a physical, and emotional way.

One day, I went up to the calico, and tried to pick him up. He slapped me in the face with his claws, and continued to bite my hand. I abruptly dropped him, and scowled in the eyes of my attacker.  Letting out a soft sigh, I admitted I was sorry.  I don’t remember much after that. All I know the times I spent with Diamond was magical.

As usual, no one knows the life of a stray except those who see him. No one really remembers him, not even me. It saddens me so. I don’t even remember the time he stopped coming around. I thought about him once or twice after that. I would wait for him by that excuse for a boundary, but he never came. I figured he himself had died. Man, would I have loved to dissect his insides; Such beautiful vibrant colors of forgotten life. How special his heart would be, and how special it would be to take an eye or two. How nostalgic to take apart his brain

The moral of this story is a wild one. I’m not even sure myself. I started off with just an intent to recreate a special memory of mine- to remind myself of my very true, and questionably real friend. I love you, to this day.

I want to say cherish the moments you have an ignorant mind, yet cherish the ones who understand. To anyone, this story can have a deeper meaning of your own. A truly real story, is one more so often enjoyed.

Author's Note

Please ignore typos, and repetitive words.