True Friendship

The following is a piece I wrote for a creative writing class a few years ago…

 

Once there was a little girl who was dearly loved. As many little girls often have, she had two parents who had given her a darling name. Her name was Annie. She and her parents lived in a small brick house in a city. Although her parents loved her, she was quite lonely. To resolve her loneliness, her parents bought her a small cat.

Annie immediately loved the cat whom she named York. York grew to be a fat cat due to Annie’s spoiling of the creature. The cat was large and had pure white fur that Annie pet and brushed and took great care with. He was one gray sock, and would let Annie squeeze the pad of that foot lovingly.

Annie spoke with York everyday. She would come home from school, grabbing a snack for herself and a treat for York, and retire to her room to chat with him. She told him all about her life. She spoke of her parents, her school, her likes and dislikes. Most of what she talked about was her desire to have friends.

Aside from York, she would tell him, she didn’t have any friends at school. She was very shy. Although she could talk to York for hours, her tongue would get tied and fat when she tried to talk to another person. She also told him that she was laughed at for it. York would curl into her lap and purr until her tears dried.

This is how the passed many years together. Annie grew more lonely and sad, and in turn York grew worried for his beloved owner. She had cared for him, taught him and loved him.

He too loved her. York loved Annie so much that after one night of her staying up late sobbing into his fur, he went out the next day on a quest.

He left by slipping out the door when Annie’s mother opened it to go to work herself. She didn’t notice the fat cat and he pulsed by her, which was lucky for York. Annie had left for school an hour or so before he himself ventured out. He was mostly an indoor cat, yet this was not his first trip to the outside.

I must find a friend for Annie, he thought to himself as he sauntered down the sidewalk. Before very long he found himself in front of a crowded cafe. He peered in hopefully, taking in each person carefully. He decided, with great remorse, that the patrons of the cafe were all much too old for his little Annie.

He went on his way, taking an inventory of all the people he met on the way, hoping beyond hope that someone would be a good match for his sweet owner. It dawned on him a few hours into his fruitless journey that the reason he was meeting so few appropriately aged people was that they were all in school.

He berated himself for his foolishness. How was he going to get into a school? If he did what even would he do? Had not this whole venture been for naught? He plopped down on his behind and rested his head sadly on his socked leg, watching the crowd pass. He air was warm on his fur, a gentle breeze tugging it just slightly. He allowed his eyes to feel sluggish and warm, tugging downward.

He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he was awoken by the feeling of a study hand on his pelt. It must have been a dream, for here was Annie petting him in her always gentle manner.

He cracked his eyes open to find that he was very wrong. He was still very much outside of his home and far away from Annie. The sun had moved farther in the sky and threatened that it would be leaving soon.

York looked to the hand that was petting him, and to the arm, to the shoulder and finally to the man that was staring out toward the horizon. He looked weathered and tired, yet not sad. He turned to look at the cat he was petting, as if somehow knowing that York was pondering him. He gave the cat a closed mouth smile.

“Hello, York,” said the man in a voice like leather, worn and sturdy. York gave the man a quizzical look. How does he know my name? York wondered to himself.

“It’s on your collar,” said the old man. “Even my powers don’t extend that far.” The man laughed to himself. It was a very pleasant laugh that warmed York to his tired bones.

“You’re a good cat, York. No… A good friend. You set out to find a friend for your little girl, when you’ve been here all along. Annie doesn’t need a new friend because she has her oldest and greatest friend,” the man said thoughtfully. York felt something stir in his fat tummy. Was it pride?

“However, you’re right about one thing, York. Annie does need someone to talk with instead of just talk to. I’m sure in time that will resolve itself. For now, don’t you see the sun going down? I believe it’s time you return home,” said the man giving York a final sturdy pat. He pushed himself up, brushing off his old pants. He began to walk away and York watched in wonder. “Good luck.”

York found his way home and trudged into Annie’s room. She sat on her bed, looking at her hands. When she saw York she ran to him and knelled in front of him. Her eyes looked red from crying.

“York, where have you been? I was so worried!” Said Annie.

“Hello, Annie,” said York.