buttons saves the world

I scratch this narrative into the arm of the sofa. The title is How I Saved the World from Disaster.

Make a note to notify the Nobel for Literature committee.

My name is Buttons. I am a hunter/killer model feline. In me, one can clearly see how evolution has created perfection; I am descended from tigers, cheetahs, panthers, and pumas. I am imbued with a certain set of skills. The skills of a predator. Deadly. Patient. Ferocious.

I live with my human staff in a two-story home in a warren of similar homes. I own this house. It is mine. The staff is mine. Even the dog is mine, though some honors I could do without. The dog has one semi-functional brain cell that fires intermittently. I call him Idiot. I allow the staff to care for him, else he would starve, his instincts being equivalent to those of a carrot. A slobbering carrot.

Other homes line my street, as do flourishing, well-established trees, verdant green in summer, bare and brown in winter. They would be good for climbing, but I am an Indoor Kitty and find the thought of being Outdoors abhorrent, only good for strays and, ugh, squirrels. The staff pretends not to understand my requests to have a tree grown inside the house, patronizing me with pats and scratches when I persist. I admit, the multilevel climbing tower that covers one-third of the living room floor is an almost acceptable substitute for when Indoor Kitty Goes Vertical at High Speed.

The curtains will also suffice.

Enough of my surroundings. To the story of how I Saved the World.

Yesterday, I napped upon my tower, at a spot near the window. Rays of radiant sunlight struck highlights from my golden fur. The dog was…I don’t know where…somewhere. Maybe entertaining himself by rolling in something nasty, or chasing a squirrel…as if he knew what to do with it when he caught it. Probably adopt it.

Idiot goes Outside through a small portal that doesn’t open for me. Not that I want to go Outside anyway. Ugh. Nothing I want lives Outside…except for birds. Maybe I could talk Idiot into bringing one inside…?

Anyway, back to me.

As I nap, my predator’s senses are never fully asleep. The finely tuned aural receivers gifted me from my ancestors miss nothing, from the tiniest shuffle of an insect’s feet pattering across a carpeted floor to the hum of the device the staff uses to open my food in preparation for adding it to my bowl. My sensitive nose picks out unfamiliar, intrusive scents, including, I should add, the fear-sweat of my human staff when a veterinary visit is imminent and a cage fight will be needed for me to accept transportation. I sense changes in atmospheric pressure, luminescence, electromagnetic wave patterns, pheromones, and…well, I won’t reveal to you the full spectrum I can sense and interpret, as some are secret and known only to cats.

On that warm summer day, when all was at peace in the world, their slithered from under a kitchen cabinet, the ancient enemy of my people, that serpent’s child who brought evil to the Garden of Catnip and caused us to be cast out, evermore dependent on humans for sustenance and shelter.

I came awake instantly, aware of the intruder in the next room, and an atavistic growl rumbled deep in my chest.

Bounding from my tower, I launched into the kitchen, battlemode activated.

There it was. As giant a snake as ever threatened venomous death upon the gentle creatures of the earth, slithery greenish-black, glistening scales, a wiggly forked tongue probing the air, seeking its prey. With a brain smaller than Idiot’s, the serpent operated on instinct, seeking its next victim, aching to sink its deadly fangs into the tender flesh of a cat, or a human, perhaps even the dog. Where was Idiot when I wanted him?

I stalked the intruder.

Silent.

Lethal.

Tail in full poof.

The snake, as if sensing my presence, eeled toward the refrigerator, where warm air blew from vents underneath the machine. If it escaped under there, no telling what damage it could do. First Idiot would fall victim, because, duh. Then my human staff. Sated on its kills, the serpent would venture out to other homes. Find other victims. There would be no end to the carnage. Only one thing stood in the path of such a fate and accepted the burden of confronting evil.

That’s right.

Me.

Buttons.

I pounced.

Oh the battle was legendary. I hopped in, jumped back, twisted in midair. I battled that snake throughout the kitchen. It fought back, twisting and turning and writhing under my claws. I was a kaleidoscope of violence, a furious contest worthy of the Colosseum and scored for an orchestra by Wagner. Der Ring des Katze und Schlange.

The outcome was preordained. At last, after a frenzy of battering from my paws, the serpent curled into a ball and expired. Life force expended. Dead at last.

My human staff members entered the kitchen, perhaps attracted by the sounds of fury.

“Oh, look!” said the female staffer. “Buttons killed a garden snake.”

“Poor little guy,” the male said. At first, I thought he meant me. Then he picked up my dead foe and held it in the palm of his hand. He was not in danger, of course. The snake was a goner. Kaput. Expired. Ready for the big litter box in the sky.

“It’s still moving,” the man said. “I don’t think its dead, just in shock.”

Wait, what?

“Put it Outside.”

Outside? Are you crazy. That’s where Idiot runs in circles and bites his tail.

Oh. Wait. Okay, Outside is good.

The threat to my home has been averted. World saved.

Buttons deserves a treat, I said to the woman. She patted my head, once again pretending not to understand my request. Fine. I would hack a wet hairball up in the middle of the carpet later.

The man went outside and released my defeated enemy, where it no doubt slithered off to lick its forked tongue over its wounds and inform its brothers and sisters to stay away from Buttons’ domain.

Unsatisfied that I had no treat, but proud of my victory, I returned to my tower.

And so it was, on Day 702 AB (After Buttons), I saved the world.

Nap time. Go away.