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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Pets / Animal Friends
- Published: 06/02/2018
The cat that saved the world.
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United StatesThe two men and one woman sat in a stone cold silence. Three days of intense negotiation had only produced more intensity. None of the three seemed willing to budge on any of the myriad of issues facing them. There were only two days left to figure out the future of the world- literally. You couldn’t find three people with as widely a different world view, unless they were Aliens from a different planet.
There are hundreds of countries on this planet, but these three set the tone- and the path- that most of those countries would take. Compromise seemed to be a dying art. The world had subtly adopted the idea that all negotiation should be along the lines of : “What’s in it for me?” Or, “How much money do we make?”
Worst of all, the current climate around the world seemed to favor going backwards in almost every sense of the word, to a world that no longer existed. There is plenty of evidence that it never existed.
Like most things in the modern age, things moved to fast to ponder, discover, explore or research. Facts were cherry picked to support whatever view you had a tendency to lean towards and people labeled each other off of a single issue, thought, or opinion. Problems were everywhere, solutions were as rare as the misnamed “common sense.” Unaware of all of this, was a single feline.
As was customary, negotiations were from seven O’clock in the morning (which may explain the stubborn silences- at least in the morning sessions) a three hour break for lunch from eleven O’clock until 2 PM in the afternoon. So folks could discuss terms that had come up in the morning session while having a “pleasant lunch”. Those lunches were rarely pleasant, with sharp words, Assistants, Adjutants, Attaches and a slew of Administrators hovering around the Principals like so many ancient Harpies.
From 2 PM until five-thirty PM the second session took place. Dinner for the three Principals, along with their spouses, was promptly at 7 PM. Served in the large dining room in the isolated Mansion. No business, politics, or religious conversation was allowed, not just by protocol, but out of sheer necessity. For none of those folks had the same view on any of those subject either. Dinner was warm. The conversation was cold. And so it went. Until a single unaware feline named Pillow made her presence known on that third night. At dinner.
Without a care in the World, Pillow jumped up onto the lap of the most powerful man in the world. Almost unconsciously he reached down to stroke Pillow's head, which got a clearly audible purr from Pillow as a reward. The most powerful woman in the world leaned over to say with a pleasantly surprised tone:
“Mr. Premier, the cat seems to like you.”
For the first time in three days, that group of people saw a genuine smile on the face of one of their members. Still petting the cat lightly with soft, long, gentle strokes that made the cat’s tail go straight up in the air- and the purr continue unabated, the Premier Spoke:
“Cat’s alway do. I don’t know why. My wife says I am a sucker for their wide eyes and soft fur. “
The third member of that triad looked interested for the first time all week. He leaned over to see the cat too. Then, with that remarkable voice that got him elected over and over again in his country, a voice that had more sincerity and concern poured over every tone than Florence Nightingale could manage in a lifetime, he said:
“What kind of cat do you have at home Mr. Premier? Is it a special breed?”
Four of the six people at that table were caught off guard by the sweet, slightly accented laugh of the Premier’s wife. The quick squeeze she gave her husbands hand, and the lingering smile that had reached both her eyes and her lips did much to warm the mood in the room. The Premier looked almost shy as he said:
“No special breed. We have six cats at home. All of them wayward animals that show up on our doorstep. Except one we call “Scratch.” He was given to me by my daughter after I had given her - him. He was the runt of a recent litter by our oldest cat, Felicity. But he bit and scratched my daughter so much she gave him to me as my birthday present the following year. “
All six simply smiled as they took in that all to familiar story. It was so human, so domestic, so filled with family, that the most powerful woman in the world spoke up. She was chuckling as she spoke (which would have made major news all over the world to see how far from her Public Persona, the Private person was):
“I had a cat like that too. Always biting, hissing, scratching, so unpredictable, but you never knew when she would deign to jump on your lap and claim that space as her own.”
This time the President of one the Countries with a large Military asked out of curiosity and not politeness:
“What was her name?”
“Felicity.”
All six broke out laughing. They all knew how a cat with a temper could be named “Felicity” by its owner.
By this time, Pillow had decided to stand on his back legs and put his paws on the table edge looking down the table at all the delectable food items. With that swift silent grace that takes a cat from one place to another, Pillow simply jumped onto the main table and started to explore. One of the Servants/Security people tried to reach over and remove Pillow from her adventure. The three most powerful people on Earth, acted as one, shooing not the cat away from the table, but the Servant/Security person.
“Let her be. Let’s see what she decides to eat.”
At that moment Pillow decided to snag a small piece of Filet Mignon from the President’s wife’s plate. She dragged it over to the Most Powerful woman in the world’s place setting. That woman picked up Pillow, placed her on her lap, and gave her room to enjoy her feast.
“It seems that cat likes you to, Madame President.”
“Oh, they almost always do. Like the Premier, we seem to gather them against our will. I don’t have the heart to let them face one of our Winter’s on their own. So we have at least a half a dozen running around the place at any time. It is almost like they tolerate us living there, and they own the place. “
The laughs this time were honest and long. Pillow spent most of that night finding out which of the six laps she would grace with her presence for a time. And every one of the six people at the table were hoping she would choose them.
The next morning at the Seven O’clock in the morning session- if anyone noted either the change in mood, or the large grey cat circulating from lap to lap, no-one said anything out loud.
Two days later when the Formal Picture to seal the most productive Summit ever held was taken, many people wondered why a cat was sitting on the lap of the Premier. They also wondered why the three most powerful people in the world, all had Cheshire like grins on, as they looked down at the cat.
Meow.
Was all Pillow had to say about it all.
The cat that saved the world.(Kevin Hughes)
The two men and one woman sat in a stone cold silence. Three days of intense negotiation had only produced more intensity. None of the three seemed willing to budge on any of the myriad of issues facing them. There were only two days left to figure out the future of the world- literally. You couldn’t find three people with as widely a different world view, unless they were Aliens from a different planet.
There are hundreds of countries on this planet, but these three set the tone- and the path- that most of those countries would take. Compromise seemed to be a dying art. The world had subtly adopted the idea that all negotiation should be along the lines of : “What’s in it for me?” Or, “How much money do we make?”
Worst of all, the current climate around the world seemed to favor going backwards in almost every sense of the word, to a world that no longer existed. There is plenty of evidence that it never existed.
Like most things in the modern age, things moved to fast to ponder, discover, explore or research. Facts were cherry picked to support whatever view you had a tendency to lean towards and people labeled each other off of a single issue, thought, or opinion. Problems were everywhere, solutions were as rare as the misnamed “common sense.” Unaware of all of this, was a single feline.
As was customary, negotiations were from seven O’clock in the morning (which may explain the stubborn silences- at least in the morning sessions) a three hour break for lunch from eleven O’clock until 2 PM in the afternoon. So folks could discuss terms that had come up in the morning session while having a “pleasant lunch”. Those lunches were rarely pleasant, with sharp words, Assistants, Adjutants, Attaches and a slew of Administrators hovering around the Principals like so many ancient Harpies.
From 2 PM until five-thirty PM the second session took place. Dinner for the three Principals, along with their spouses, was promptly at 7 PM. Served in the large dining room in the isolated Mansion. No business, politics, or religious conversation was allowed, not just by protocol, but out of sheer necessity. For none of those folks had the same view on any of those subject either. Dinner was warm. The conversation was cold. And so it went. Until a single unaware feline named Pillow made her presence known on that third night. At dinner.
Without a care in the World, Pillow jumped up onto the lap of the most powerful man in the world. Almost unconsciously he reached down to stroke Pillow's head, which got a clearly audible purr from Pillow as a reward. The most powerful woman in the world leaned over to say with a pleasantly surprised tone:
“Mr. Premier, the cat seems to like you.”
For the first time in three days, that group of people saw a genuine smile on the face of one of their members. Still petting the cat lightly with soft, long, gentle strokes that made the cat’s tail go straight up in the air- and the purr continue unabated, the Premier Spoke:
“Cat’s alway do. I don’t know why. My wife says I am a sucker for their wide eyes and soft fur. “
The third member of that triad looked interested for the first time all week. He leaned over to see the cat too. Then, with that remarkable voice that got him elected over and over again in his country, a voice that had more sincerity and concern poured over every tone than Florence Nightingale could manage in a lifetime, he said:
“What kind of cat do you have at home Mr. Premier? Is it a special breed?”
Four of the six people at that table were caught off guard by the sweet, slightly accented laugh of the Premier’s wife. The quick squeeze she gave her husbands hand, and the lingering smile that had reached both her eyes and her lips did much to warm the mood in the room. The Premier looked almost shy as he said:
“No special breed. We have six cats at home. All of them wayward animals that show up on our doorstep. Except one we call “Scratch.” He was given to me by my daughter after I had given her - him. He was the runt of a recent litter by our oldest cat, Felicity. But he bit and scratched my daughter so much she gave him to me as my birthday present the following year. “
All six simply smiled as they took in that all to familiar story. It was so human, so domestic, so filled with family, that the most powerful woman in the world spoke up. She was chuckling as she spoke (which would have made major news all over the world to see how far from her Public Persona, the Private person was):
“I had a cat like that too. Always biting, hissing, scratching, so unpredictable, but you never knew when she would deign to jump on your lap and claim that space as her own.”
This time the President of one the Countries with a large Military asked out of curiosity and not politeness:
“What was her name?”
“Felicity.”
All six broke out laughing. They all knew how a cat with a temper could be named “Felicity” by its owner.
By this time, Pillow had decided to stand on his back legs and put his paws on the table edge looking down the table at all the delectable food items. With that swift silent grace that takes a cat from one place to another, Pillow simply jumped onto the main table and started to explore. One of the Servants/Security people tried to reach over and remove Pillow from her adventure. The three most powerful people on Earth, acted as one, shooing not the cat away from the table, but the Servant/Security person.
“Let her be. Let’s see what she decides to eat.”
At that moment Pillow decided to snag a small piece of Filet Mignon from the President’s wife’s plate. She dragged it over to the Most Powerful woman in the world’s place setting. That woman picked up Pillow, placed her on her lap, and gave her room to enjoy her feast.
“It seems that cat likes you to, Madame President.”
“Oh, they almost always do. Like the Premier, we seem to gather them against our will. I don’t have the heart to let them face one of our Winter’s on their own. So we have at least a half a dozen running around the place at any time. It is almost like they tolerate us living there, and they own the place. “
The laughs this time were honest and long. Pillow spent most of that night finding out which of the six laps she would grace with her presence for a time. And every one of the six people at the table were hoping she would choose them.
The next morning at the Seven O’clock in the morning session- if anyone noted either the change in mood, or the large grey cat circulating from lap to lap, no-one said anything out loud.
Two days later when the Formal Picture to seal the most productive Summit ever held was taken, many people wondered why a cat was sitting on the lap of the Premier. They also wondered why the three most powerful people in the world, all had Cheshire like grins on, as they looked down at the cat.
Meow.
Was all Pillow had to say about it all.
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