What are you looking at? Dinner, Pontchartrain demurred. I’ve seen you eat; I’m a mere taste for you tubby, Powers teased.
This is the tale of a black kitty named Pontchartrain and Powers the goldfish. It’s a love-hate relationship actually. But, truth be known, there’s more love, masked behind a wee bit of denial.
I suppose you’re going on the road trip again? Pontchartrain was insanely jealous of Powers since the day that young Patrick won him at the carnival. It was the very day that Pontchartrain’s world changed, for the worse, she thought.
Patrick used to rub my head three times for good luck before the football game until YOU came along, Pontchartrain sulked. I never asked for the job, Powers sighed. Actually, I feel like a fish outta water when they take me. I can show you a fish outta water with a quick slap of the paw, bottom feeder, Pontchartrain quipped.
Patrick scoops me up in a bag for each game, do you think I ENJOY that fish breath?? Patrick doesn’t love me anymore and it’s all YOUR fault goldie! Will you stop it you silly cat? Insecurity is so unbecoming from this side of the glass, Powers scolded.
How would you like it if I reach in and bring you on THIS side of the bowl? You’d miss me too much Ms. whiskers.
I got em’ through 5 and 0 with their superstitions until YOU showed up; now I’ve been discarded like a container of rubbish, all because of a FISH!
Powers, let‘s go! Patrick scooped Powers from the bowl. Oooh, here I go. Try not to be too jealous kitty, Powers teased.
Pontchartrain circled eagerly between Patrick’s legs. We’re late Pontch, I’ll see ya’ tonight, Patrick assured, shooing Pontchartrain with his foot. Patrick bolted for the door with Powers firmly in tow.
I’ll see you tonight too kitty, Powers goaded, snickering at Pontchartrain through the zip-lock bag. Maybe Patrick will scratch that flea infested head when we return.
Pontchartrain glared. I’ll show you. You piece of bait!
Pontchartrain leaped through the window to a nearby limb. She raced down the tree onto the trellis. The trellis wobbled to and fro until Pontchartrain lost her balance and crashed swiftly to the ground.
Pontch! Patrick’s mom noticed Pontchartrain and scooped her up. She tossed her through the front door, locking it securely behind.
Oh no!! I’ll never make it, Pontch screamed. She raced up the stairs and bolted through the window, desperately trying to reach the car before her family pulled away.
She made it to the tree. Precariously dangling high above the SUV; she knew she had but one choice. She heard the ignition; time was running out! Pontch closed her eyes and leaped onto the roof of the car.
Pontchartrain held on for dear life. Finally, a few blocks away, a swift right turn got the best of her and she tumbled to the street. She looked up and saw the taillights speeding away. She shook her head as she sat alone on the sidewalk in front of a small pub.
Now I’ll NEVER be able to show Patrick that I’m still his good luck charm. Her heart sank. And I’m homeless now!
Pontchartrain lowered her head and began to cry.
Her penchant for table scraps suddenly took over when she caught the delightful aroma from the pub where a game-day cook-off was in progress.
Hey little kitty, a young girl called from a sidewalk table. Pontchartrain dried her tears and raced over. The aroma was heavenly; she could almost taste the succulence that awaited. Morsel after morsel Pontch feasted until she was as full as could be. She sat on the sidewalk grooming herself as her thoughts turned to Patrick.
What if he forgets me? That FISH will take my place! Pontchartrain knew she was in big trouble.
Her attention diverted as a giant dog rushed toward her. Pontch raced for her life. Running in circles, she zigged and she zagged as the dog edged closer, nipping fiercely at her tail. Finally, she scrambled up a nearby oak tree.
As the beast barked below, she spotted an open window to the second floor of the pub. The branch was so far from the window though. Pontchartrain would have only one shot. If she made it, safe harbor awaited, if she missed, she was history.
Pontch took a deep breath and soared through the air to the gutter, missing the roof by inches. She held on tight with her two tiny front paws, trying desperately to lift her back paw for traction. Below, the dog gnashed and barked. She felt as though she were dangling over a shark tank. Oh my! I don’t want to die like this, she screamed.
Finally, she caught the edge of the gutter with her back paw and scrambled through the window. Disaster averted.
Inside the pub Pontch scrambled, unnoticed. Dodging feet, the occasional cigarette butt and showers of beer sloshing from above, she spotted a tiny recess near a trophy case; safe haven!
Pontchartrain rested from her exhausting adventure when a loud gasp filled the room. The pub roared with groans and boos; Patrick‘s favorite team had just lost!
FINALLY, Patrick will realize that Powers ISN’T a good luck charm! Pontchartrain basked in the glory that she would, again, be the proud recipient of affection on game day. She cheered.
Her joy quickly turned to despair, remembering that she was, indeed, lost. Pontch sighed and gently rested her chin against the cold floor until she fell asleep.
Hi there little one. A pleasant voice woke Pontch the following morning. A morsel of tuna dangled from the woman’s fingertips. Pontch hesitantly sniffed until the young woman placed it in the middle of the knot work design on the floor. Pontch crept from her refuge to snatch the tuna.
You must be lost. The woman stroked Pontche’s head.
Weeks had passed as Pontchartrain settled into her new life, seemingly, as the pub mascot. She was well kept and never starved for attention from the customers. She thought of Patrick often though; she missed him. She longed to, once again, snuggle at his feet. She even missed Powers, even though his taunting was a thorn in her side.
The pub was packed on Super Bowl Sunday; Patrick’s team was moments from victory. Pontchartrain held her breath as she stared at the TV.
Suddenly a voice loudly rang from above. What are YOU looking at? Powers?? That sounds like Powers! Pontchartrain scanned the room until her eyes locked on the table a few feet away.
Patrick and his family were watching the game at the pub.
Pontchartrain bounded from beneath the table and leaped to Patrick’s lap. PONTCH!! Patrick was ecstatic to see his beloved kitty. The family took turns showering Pontch with affection; she purred fiercely.
Finally, Pontch placed her nose to the tiny cup of water, coming face to face with Powers. She smiled at Powers and replied.
Dinner.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010
Author's note: This little tale was inspired by a very dear person to me who urged me to expand and challenge myself. I'm forever grateful.
