French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Chapter 12: -Gyeong-Wan- Cat Skull Funeral

And that's how I ended up burying a cat skull in an abandoned park at 2AM with witches muttering in a foreign language about a cat's death rites, while standing between two drag queens. 

We'd gone and knocked on their door around 1AM. It was a quaint shop with raw wood on the exterior painted black. A hand painted sign read "Salem's Sister" in English. I recognized the people inside when they opened the door. They'd been the ones who'd donated the cat skull in the first place, and I'd noticed they'd gone home well before the Bingo portion of the event had even started. It made me think that we were simply giving it back, and maybe thanking them for coming. 

How far that was from the reality.

After awkwardly walking together, following behind the witches, we'd arrived at the little park across the street from French Cup. We watched them set up a small wooden altar. I stood next to the boy, who I was telling myself to call Kazuya. We'd walked together, after all. He was anxiously watching them, holding the cat skull in his still gloved hands. Beside us was his friend, who a lot of people at Drag Bingo had called Nikki. I didn't know if this was his drag queen name or not. I'd learned from Drag Race that drag queen names are often different than one's real name, so I was unsure if I should call him that or not. 

The cat skull, which was now wrapped in a plain burlap sort of cloth, was handed over to one of the witches. She was wearing a long black dress and an even tighter corset than Kazuya. Her curly hair went over her face as she observed the skull, holding it perhaps dearly. She placed it gently on the altar. 

The other witch stepped forward, covered from head to toe in a heavy looking black cloak, the hood over her head and drooping over half of her face. I was scared at first, but she touched the cat skull just as gently as the first. She drew back her hand, and we all stood together as she began to speak in a foreign language, something from a Scandinavian country, from the sounds of the words. Quickly, I realized it was her native language. I hadn't gotten a good look at her face due to the hood, but the bottom of her face read as a mixture of European and Asian to me the more I watched her. 

We stood for perhaps twenty minutes as she spoke. She rose her hand to the heavens and to the earth several times. As she did this, Kazuya came forward. His friend did the same, and I stood by myself awkwardly. They took something from the witch's hand, and they spread it in front of the small, wrapped creature's head. In the low light from the streetlamp, I recognized it as cat food. The witch who had been quiet took something out of the bag she'd brought, and when she took her hand away, it was revealed to be a small and colorful ball: a rolling ball with a bell in it. A cat toy, one I recognized from having owned them as a kid for my own dear cat. 

At this, I recognized what we were doing for what it was, and I felt ashamed. 

Suddenly, none of this seemed strange. The witch was still speaking, but these words weren't chants or strange things. The witch was speaking lovingly, those kinds of tones. I looked over at Kazuya, and his head was bowed. I bowed my head, too.

We were having a funeral for a cat. Not just its naked skull, something I thought was so strange. These weren't witches in the spooky sense. They were practicing a religion, one I'd heard of, called Wicca. Kazuya had called them witches when we'd met them at their door, and the shop was called Salem's Sister, so I'd thought of them like Halloween witches. But, the more I saw, the more I recognized it for what it was. With these kind offerings, of the cat's food and a gentle cat toy, my eyes were moist. Sad suddenly, for the cat that it was in life. How it would have loved to eat this food, to play with this toy. Who's cat had it been? Had it been one of the many strays I'd seen in my walks in the neighborhood?

It made me want to get to know those cats. Play with them, and feed them myself. But, having seen the many dishes of cat food and water out among the shops' front doors, I knew that they took care of those cats. Maybe this cat that we were honoring had been loved, too. I took comfort in that. Maybe, this was a cat that they'd even known, now nameless due to only having its skull left. 

This community. Taking this level of care for such a creature. Giving it a proper funeral and all. Loving it, even like this. 

As Kazuya went up to the altar and started to speak about the cats of the neighborhood, my thoughts were confirmed. He spoke about how he loved all of the cats, and he wished he knew which one this one was. We were one in the same in these thoughts. I wanted to say something, too, but I was too much of a newcomer. I didn't know these cats like they did. It was best if I was silent, observing and appreciating. 

After this, the two witches dug a hole in the ground. It took a long time, but it was a loving task. After a while, we all pitched in to help, squatting on the ground together. My hands sunk into the wet dirt from the earlier rain, and I saw why it was hard-going. We moved the soft earth, feeling it in our fingers. Our piles grew bigger, and finally the witch in the long cloak declared that it was deep enough. Respectful enough. 

Kazuya brought the creature down to us, and lovingly placed it in the hole. The witch in the long dress brought the gifts over and placed them kindly around it, making sure that a lot of it touched the cloth. Then, ever so gently, we all buried the cat. Kazuya patted the earth in finality at the end. It was an unmarked, small grave, but what a beautiful thing it was. 

Afterward, as I walked home on my own, my hands were still muddy and wet. My suit would have to be dry-cleaned, because I'd knelt in the mud and grass. I was so dirty, but felt so clean. 

Watching Kazuya being so gentle with the cat. It made me want to know him. Really know him. Talk to him. He didn't know which cat this had been, but to have that much love for it? He must have unending love. That was the kind of person I wanted to know. 

In my life, so many people I knew only wanted a means to an end. Expecting something of you to take an exchange. My mother, my girlfriend, my friends. But, here was this person who was so giving. It was the opposite of what I was used to. 

As I thought about this, I reached the hotel. The bright lights were jarring after the dim light of the park. I found myself suddenly cold from the mud, but I didn't want to go inside.

I wanted to turn right around and walk to French Cup. I wanted to go inside, sit down, and stay forever in its warmth and laughter, its love.