Taking THE CAT for a walk

It is still dark out when I am woken up .....confused….There are pebbles hitting my window. I pull the shades up, to peer down through the screen at what is causing me to have to be conscious at 6 in the morning.
There is my father, with a cigarette ( as promised) tucked in his hand. The grip of his smile, is much like the grip on his rope in his other hand, as he starts to badger my name
” Des, Des…”
My eyes are adjusting, although my alertness is not. The sun has lent just enough light to the grass for me to see the incident in which my Father is urging his humor toward.
There is a poor, orange fat cat sprawled out.....dead stiff on our lawn. My brain cells don’t have to register the rest. I am used to my Father, and albeit to his whims because I have been conditioned to do so....and so, I wait for it I wait for him to cast his staged look of shock, and confusion. He throws cigarette and rope hands up to declare
“ What?”
Again “ What?” drawing out the sound it as if disappointed.

“-You don’t want to take the cat for a walk with your father this morning?”

My response is to shut the blinds annoyed, then pull them away again on a second thought barely managed out of exhaustion, but prompted by instinct.
“ You need professional help…”
I pause to draw out my part in this improve scene.
“-- 6 ‘o clock in the morning is way too early to be taking the cat for a walk…why don’t you take it over to Borderline Beverage and see if they want to take the cat for a walk with you when your buying your case of Camels...I am sure they would love to take the cat for a walk.”
His mouth turns up to deepen the smile, that always brings out my own. Throwing his sea bag through the open door of the driver side, he salutes me with a casual hand meeting the red bandanna on his head, wrapped around a mess of disheveled sea hair… “ Take care kid.” He looks up and nods.
“ Have fun fishing, Dad.”
“ I think I will.” He concedes while coiling in the " cat-leash" rope carefully, as it now must be put to some other use on his boat. He then bends down to grab his the blue beaten duffel sea bag, through driver side door to have it as a passenger, salty, eager and carefree. They are off to chase this morning out in the open water of the world.

He lights up another cigarette with thrill and meditation.....each breath in, another exhaled step up the latter on to another life.

I push away the blind, and roll back on to bed…I am tired enough to hit dreams the second I close me eyes .
I listen his car start to leave the driveway, then:
“Des, Des…”
I set myself up for this. I have to pull black the damned blind one last time…and see what he wants
His window is down and his head is sticking out of it, mischievously.
“ Be, Careful out there.”
I chime in knowing: “ The world can be a cruel place”…
We both acknowledge the truth of this statement said between us since of the dawning of anything I can remember, in surveying the cat…who’s luck was not so good.
He pulls out of the drive way, and I again push back the blinds.

Jesus Christ, I think as my lids stick heavy back to sleep.


I’m a definitely a fishermans daughter….