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I hate to break it to him but judging by the look in that cat’s eyes, friendship isn’t in their future.
“Noah, don’t do that to the cat. He’s going to scratch you.” I no sooner get those words out and what does the cat do?
Scratches him. And not just once. It’s like a bitch slap that just keeps coming. He even gets on his back legs and tries to run after Noah.
Callan shakes his head beside me. “That cat hates Noah.”
I can see why if that’s how he treats animals. Can cats sense evil? Or is that horses?
Either way, it ends in tears and loud screams. “Cat stupid!” Noah screams, holding the side of his face.
He runs to Callan and hugs him, which isn’t surprising, but I’m curious why he didn’t run to me first since I’m his father. Kneeling in the grass, I reach for his hand to pull it away from his cheek. “Look at those battle wounds, Wolverine.”
His tears slow when I say that, and he sniffs but makes eye contact with me. The green in his eyes stands out, a reminder this kid looks more like me than Madison. “Grr,” he growls and then his eyes shift behind me to the cat walking away.
Do you see the look in my son’s eyes? The one of resentment for the animal who clawed the shit out of him?
Remember that look in about five minutes.
Callan runs inside and then returns with a wet washcloth and hands it to me. Gently, I clean the blood off Noah’s face and see it’s not as bad as it initially looked, but he has about six scratches, one really close to his eye.
Fuck. If Madison sees this, she’s going to think I can’t handle my own kids. Awesome.
“Can I ride my bike?” Callan asks, pointing to the garage.
Nodding, I take Noah by the hand, hoping scarface loses focus on the cat. “Want to ride your bike too?”
“Yeah, yeah! Brother bike!”
Noah has his own bike, but he refuses to ride it. Instead, he rides this old big wheel we got for Callan when he was younger.
There’s a big difference between Callan and Noah, and it’s apparent when they’re doing physical activities. While I struggle to think Noah will ever live up to Callan academically, it’s obvious Noah’s a natural athlete. Walking, running, riding bikes, kicking a ball around, he’s never struggled with any of that, even from the beginning.
While I’m watching Noah do donuts, slide jobs around corners and racing up and down the street on the big wheel, I notice that damn cat lying in the street. You’d think he would have run away after the tail incident.
Remember that look on Noah’s face? The one where I said pay attention?
We’re back to that.
Check it out. He’s about I don’t know, maybe fifteen feet from the cat, eyeing it like he remembers. I shit you not, he even raises his hand to his cheek and then glares, his hands tightening on the handle bars.
If you’re a cat lover, you might want to close your eyes for what happens next.
With a sudden sense of determination, Noah takes off on his bike heading right for the cat, and I even scream at the cat to get him to move, only he doesn’t. He stares at Noah as if he senses his impending doom and deserves it. I don’t like cats, as you know, but I still don’t want to see what’s about to happen.
“Noah, stop!” I yell and attempt to run after him, but he runs right over the cat before I can get to him. I don’t know why, but I kinda blame the cat here because Jesus Christ, why didn’t he move when he saw the bike? Don’t cats usually run away from moving objects besides a ball of yarn?
“I can’t believe he just did that,” Callan says with wide eyes.
Yep. He did. Ran right over the cat with his big wheel.
Just keep your eyes closed if you want because I’ll let you in on a little secret. The cat didn’t make it. His nine lives were up.
Noah glances back over his shoulder, a pointed glare at the cat. “I am Wolverine,” and then rides away on his bike. I blink a few times, trying to decide if that really happened and if I’m standing over a dead cat.
Remember how I said Noah’s a grudge holder?
Clearly this was a grudge-murder. I’m still in disbelief this actually happened.