Well, hi there! XP
I've stopepd updating on my other story, 'Guardian of the Moon Tree' because of my studies, and in truth, this will be the last 'Chicken Soup' story I will submit for 2 weeks, kay? of course, if you send me stories I'll post them, but thatz a different story. XP
Thanks to all you reviews! You Rock!!!!
Going Home Again
"There are two parts of the heart: The first, a tamed, gentle side, hiding from danger; the other a wild, daring side, ready to break free," –Pearla
What I remember most about Thomas is his eyes.
The look in them, more like it. He had amber eyes, deep orange, in fact; but there was something about them…like they had a fight going on inside of them, a battle between decisions…
Maybe that's why he was never calm enough to stay inside. Me and my sister, Elizabeth, loved him more than words can say. He was our first pet, our 'child'. He clawed the curtains a lot, climbed the table legs, shredded his play-mouse-toy to shreds….but we still loved him. He would stretch out on my dad's legs, rub against my ankles, and Elizabeth and mum enjoyed it when he arched his back against their legs.
I saw him staring out the window sometimes, a wistful look in his eyes. When he was inside he would trek slowly around the room, looking sickly. Other times, when he was out in the garden, the bounce was back in his step, even though he was afraid of the outdoors sometimes.
But I knew it the moment I saw him.
He wasn't a housecat.
I never told myself this out loud: I didn't want to let Thomas go. Sure, he preferred mice better than cat-food…I saw him eat a mouse once. And he loved climbing trees more than curtains and playing in the flower-bed...but I could create a nice little home for him here, couldn't I?
I woke up early one morning to find him trying to squeeze out of the roof window. I gently picked him up carried him downstairs, setting him outside the door. He thanked me for that!
I was actually hoping for kittens when I saw that he and Mrs. Honey's cat, Millie, were going off together for hours on end and playing endlessly. Soon, Mrs. Honey called to tell us that Millie was acting wilder all of a sudden, catching mice in the basement, and fighting with Duke, the biggest cat in the neighborhood.
Thomas looked proud of himself. He knew he had done his job!
But the call of the wild was too much for him. I found that he was disappearing for long periods of time, and when he got back home, he started to cry in his cat-way. He stopped eating, unless he had caught something outside, something live.
"But it's better here, right Thomas?" I whispered, stroking him. "You love us, and we love you. You have food given to you here, and a roof on top of your head. You like the house, right?"
The way he looked at me told me everything I needed to know. Thomas was truly unhappy.
On the last day he was with us, I remember him staring at me with his huge eyes, pleading for me to understand. He looked outside, then at me. He flexed his muscles and unsheathed his claws, and it looked like he wanted to me to forgive what he was doing.
I knew then, what he was going to do. Go wild. Go back to his forest home, where dad said he had come from. To be free once more. To be wild again.
"I forgive you, Thomas," I murmured, uncharacteristically quiet. At that moment, I watched him bunch up his muscles and leap out of the window, running down sidewalks and climbing up trees, looking thrilled and happy, well…
To finally be going home.
That very summer, I got a call from my friend, Tanya.
"Alex!" she sounded excited. "I arrived at the lake! You'll never guess who I saw! He looked just like Thomas!"
I smiled, lovingly gazing at the family portrait we had taken with him. "Cool," I said into the receiver. "Thomas, eh? I knew it."
"Knew what?"
"Knew that he'd be going home again."
-Alexander Park, 11