The Cattails of Doody Newman

Chapter Four ^^ Pow Pow Pow

Even though my Uncle Blackie rarely speaks, my fur-mom and her twin couldn't be more opposite. They were both born on my skin-mom's porch in August, 1999. From the time they took their first breath, my fur-mom hasn't stopped talking. I don't know where she gets all her words. If I stayed up for a million hours for days and days and days, I wouldn't even know half the words she knows.

My Uncle Blackie is the coolest dude I know; he never really makes sounds, but you know what he's saying by the faces he makes. Like, he will point his eyes in one direction while everyone is talking about going out to play, and you know he means "Let's go!" Or when a can of wet food is opened and he wants some, he'll just walk over to it and my skin-mom will slide it into his dish. Or when the big dog, Jack, or Jojo, the silky one, are all bark, bark, barking at him, and he simply stands there and looks at them, not making a peep. Like I said, Uncle Blackie—coolest dude I know. I love my Uncle Blackie, that goes without saying. Whenever I need advice or a whisker to lean on, he is always there to help me out. Once I figured out the big dog, Jack hadn't been able to see me and the experiment with Prissy hadn't gone the way I'd planned, I thought I'd try one last thing, to know once and for all, if in fact, I was truly the brownest (and now the most invisible) tabby in Texas.

My plan was to get my Uncle Blackie to see me, or at least to sense me. He likes to hang out on the front porch, and I'm not allowed out there, so I had to catch him before he left. I knew he would be on the cat buffet table eating wet food at his usual time, so before he finished up and headed outside, I was gonna dip my paw directly into the food, so he'd get some clue I was around. And OK, I know it's only been 24 hours, but still, I can't believe nobody has noticed I'm missing—I'm pretty important in this house, if you ask me!

I waited by the kitchen and watched everyone eating and playing and grooming. Meanwhile, I was plotting my move.

The plan was to get to Uncle Blackie before he went out front. He was just about finished with his wet food. (I know when he is done because he pukes it all back up again, and big dog, Jack gobbles it). Jack was hanging around because he knew he was going to get some hot nuggets soon, so the time would be right to make my move. I slinked over to the big table where the cat buffet is and jumped quietly onto the chair, then slooooowly sneaked onto the tabletop where Uncle Blackie was eating. I stood in front of him and didn't say a word. Just stuck my paw into the food he was eating. It smelled yummy, like tuna steak with shrimp gravy, my favorite! It's Uncle Blackie's, too, because it makes for one great big gob on the table, and because it's easier on his throat, on the way up, with the gravy—it slides right out. Hmmm... Maybe that's why he doesn't talk much, because he's afraid he's going to hurl anytime he opens his mouth.

So, I was watching and waiting, and waiting and watching. (Boy, he doesn't stop to breathe)! I was bobbing and weaving and going from side to side, and finally, I got a second to punch my paw out and into the food. I used my right paw for good luck, since that was the one the bright Orange Gecko had asked me to use. Hopefully, it would work and Uncle Blackie would be able to see me. Then I'd be back in sight for everyone to lay eyes on, and I'd see all my siblings as I pounced with Prissy. I'd see my fur-mom and kiss my skin-mommy 's face again.

Here goes nothing! I squeezed my eyes shut and jammed my paw into the wet, gooey fish-smelling gravy. POW, POW, POW! I opened my eyes to see wet food, shrimp-gravy, tuna chunks, and shrimp legs everywhere. Oops, I guess I got too excited and punched too hard. I slowly looked up at Uncle Blackie's face and all I could see were two green eyes blinking; he was covered from the top of his black ears to the tip of his groovy tail in the best-smelling, slimiest fishy goo this side of Texas, if you ask me.

He just stared at me—AT me—can he see me? Did I have a breakthrough? Is my life going to go back to normal again? I opened my big mouth in the smallest way and squeaked out, "Can you see me?"

The voice that came out was like nothing I had ever heard come out of this brown tabby's throat; I sounded like a mouse and made barely any noise at all. What the heck was that? I'd finally gotten my chance to once and for all, talk to the one feline that may be able to see me, and that was all I could come up with? I tried again.

"UN-CLE BLACK-IE, can you see me?"

Wow... What is wrong with me? I NEVER have trouble talking, or yelling, or being seen. That gecko must have really done me in. OK, one last time. I opened my mouth and it seemed like my throat turned into the longest tunnel ever, with echoes and crickets and was that the ocean?

"UNCLE BLACKIE, CAN YOU SEEEEEE ME?" There. It was out. He looked me right in the eye and said, "...Gecko."