The feeling of guilt...

By Saleh al Shaibany — As I was happily chatting away with my family while driving, I caught a glimpse of a dark little figure crossing the road.

Then there was a sickening bump as the wheels of my car got caught with a strange object. I knew what it was and my wife confirmed with words. “You ran over a cat.” I was silent for a few seconds as the happy mood evaporated. Cats were dumb, I thought, but that did not bring me comfort.

Perhaps I should have been more careful. As I waited for the traffic lights to change, I looked at other motorists and wondered if it was in their conscience when they ran over an animal.

My guilt was compounded by the fact that I do not wear the glasses that I have been prescribed.

In a funny twist of fate, I got a second chance that evening when I spotted a kitten crossing the road just a few yards from home. It crossed safely but it did not make feel any better.

I tried to wipe out the bad thoughts from my mind as I was watching television but in vain. The burden of immense guilt was over-whelming that I could not share it with my wife. She might have dismissed me for exaggerating the whole thing.

Anyway, it was something I had to deal with personally.

So when my wife cocked her head sideways to indicate she was ready for bed, I politely declined, saying I was waiting for my favourite programme.

I waited long enough for the house to go dead but for the noise of the television, before walking to the kitchen.

I started rummaging in the fridge for some scrap of food.

Ignored the fruits and pulled out a piece of fried tuna and a chicken curry.

Like a mother carefully preparing her baby’s dinner, I started meshing up the two meats mixed with rice.

I got it on a paper plate and then thought of something else.

Cats like milk and they would use the drink to wash down the late dinner.

I grabbed a plastic cup and filled it to the brim with low fat milk.

Then I walked towards the door and peered nervously up the stairs half expecting my wife to catch me red-handed. But she was not there and that was one hurdle gone.

The click of the front door was a challenge and I had to delicately turn the lock to reduce the echo of its sound in the hallway. I tiptoed out in the dead of the night only the full moon witnessing the absurdity. I looked at curtains in the neighbours’ windows. There was nothing behind them but darkness.

I would have been the talk of the street if they were watching me that night.

I could not risk taking the car.

The engine noise would have alerted my sleeping wife.

So I walked the two hundred meters to the nearest bin.

The only sound out in the street was the drone of the air conditioners.

The silvery moonlight reflected the eyes of two kittens and their mother cuddling under the smelly bin.

They raised their heads and wondered what in the world I was up to.

They scattered but remained a few yards from where I placed the food and milk. There was that moment of deep mistrust all animals have in human beings who suddenly turn generous.

From a distant, I watched them walk to the plates and soon they were tucking in hungrily.

The sight of three cats eating the food did the world of good to my guilt as I made my way back to the house.

As I pulled the quilt and snuggled close to my wife, I knew tomorrow was another day with perhaps more guilt waiting in the wings.

— saleh_shaibany@yahoo.com