Nine Lives: Confessions of a Typewriter

Cats do not often commit their thoughts to paper... but when they do, they have something important to say.

I didn't love him.
I'm sorry.
I know
I knew you loved him
I know you love him.
I'm so sorry...

The sound of typing fell silent as the queen's paws rested lightly on the keys of the ancient typewriter. All the Jellicles of the junkyard used this old machine when they had to write something down, but it was so infrequent that a cat needed to commit something to paper that the marmalade queen was fairly sure nobody else would need the typewriter any time soon.

If I could do things over again, trust me, I would.
You were my dearest-
you ARE my dearest friend.
You are my sister, in the heart if not in the blood.
If I could turn back time

She paused again, this time to cast a furtive glance around the junkyard - it was mid-morning, not a time when many of the nocturnal Jellicles were out and about, but it paid to be cautious. After ascertaining that no one was around, and that none of the kittens were misbehaving without her there to watch them, she continued.

If I could turn back time, I would tell him no.
I would tell him I didn't love him
I would tell him to go to you.
You swore me to secrecy, but I would have broken that promise in the hopes of keeping another, unspoken one...

In the distance, voices were raised - somebody was yelling at someone else. *Better make this short,* the orange cat thought with a sigh, *it sounds like Pouncival stole Etcetera's teddy Pollicle again...*

I should have done that.
I didn't.
I, who pride myself on being a good example to the kittens, did the cruelest thing anyone could ever do.
I betrayed my sister, my closest friend, for the sake of diamonds and pearls
For the sake of a tom I didn't love
but who could give me the world.
Not only have I betrayed you, I have betrayed Skimbleshanks...
My love, my life, the only person besides you whom I feel truly close to.
I'm sorry...

She pulled the paper out of the typewriter, and tucked it into her knitting bag. With the bag over her shoulder, she went to take care of the kittens...

A short time later, another cat slipped around the car into the small clearing, lined with old tires and bicycle wheels, that the typewriter sat in. There it was, in the place of honour on top of a turned over paint tin, which still had light green splashes of old dried paint on the rusty lid.

The cat, a slender yellow queen, knelt in the dust in front of the typewriter. She took a piece of paper from the stack beside the paint tin and slid it into the typewriter, then began to pound away at the keys.

My closest friend-
My dearest love-
My hearts

*No,* she thought, *too sappy.* She tore the paper out and began again.

My love--
Now we can finally be together...
Now that Jennyanydots and Bustopher Jones are mates,
Now, at last, I can declare my love for you, Skimbleshanks
without betraying my kittenhood friend...

The typing went on for a long time. Finally, the yellow queen pulled the sheet of paper from the typewriter and, folding it carefully, left the little clearing.

The typewriter sat alone on its tin, waiting for the next Jellicle with something to say to come along. Cats do not often commit their thoughts to paper. But when they do, they have something important to say...