text: The Tree Cat by Gabriel Beury-Moore Commonly being mistaken as other trees when it is spoken of, the tree cat is exactly what its name describes. Some say the tree cat was once a house cat. He lived with a young man who worked hard during the day and would come home to his best friend waiting for him, and everyday the cat would greet him with excitement and joy. He waited for his owner to come home. He waited for days: pacing around outside, running inside at the slightest noise indoors, and running around the whole house just to make sure his owner was not hiding. Eventually, the cat just stopped. He sat patiently outside in the rain, in the snow, at night, and all day. Before his transformation, he did not know of the magic that lived inside him, for he thought he was just a cat. But as a tree grows its root into the ground, the cat’s fur grew into the soil, absorbing his nutrients through the water he drank. His skin became hard with rigor, to become the bark of a tree. His body grew straight up to the sky; he reached for the sweet rays of the sun to drink in the warmth and energy it gave him. Like the leaves of a tree, his fur changed with the seasons. It was bright and full of luster in the summer, colorful and vibrant in fall, cold and dark in the harsh snows of winter, and in the spring his fur would slowly fade its color until it became bright again in the summer as the air became warmer. Unlike the leaves of a tree, his fur never fell. Slowly, over many years, his fur became broader and wider to soak in the sun. Finally, the once small house cat became tall and filled with beautiful leaves, his face hidden perfectly by them. He listened to the messages the wind brought him, and the stories the tall grass told him, but he would only open his eyes once a day to wish the sun a good morning and bid the moon a good night. The rain, when it came, brought news of what was happening around the world. Sometimes the rain told sad tales of war and famine; sometimes the rain told tales of peace. However, when the rain asked what the tree cat would like to know, he asked the same question, “Have you seen my owner?” And every time he asked, the rain was deeply saddened. The rain told him, “I have not seen your owner, but I know he is safe.” With that news, the tree cat shut his eyes and smiled. While it was sad that no one had seen his old friend, he took solace in knowing that his best friend was okay. Why am I telling you this story? I am an old friend of the tree cat. I knew him when he was just a small kitten. I knew him as the cheerful boy who faithfully followed his owner wherever he went. I was there when he could not find him. He asked me, “Have you seen my owner?” And I responded, “I’m sorry, but I have not.” I told him that if he waited, he could drink from me as much as he wanted, that he could bask in the suns that warm the Earth, that he could eat the food that grows by my banks, that he could play in the sand that builds with my ebb and flow. For years, I took care and watched over the once young cat while he sat patiently. I watched him grow into the majestic tree that he is today. He continues to thrive and to smile at me when I say hello. And every day he asks all he sees if they have seen his owner, and every day we lie to him. We keep him company and we keep him happy by telling stories of time and stories of the world. We do not tell him of the day his owner passed. We keep from him that his owner visited him every day, but he could not see him. We fail to mention that he built a home to stay with him forever. We forget that his son would sit in the shade of the tree cat. We remember that every day his owner would tell him that he loves him. We keep from him that his owner’s children buried him just behind the tree cat and he could know that he was always with him if he could just look down. Most importantly, we have not told him that his owner buried him in the exact spot he grows. The owner was special; he spoke to all of us knowing that we were listening. He knew that he would outlive his small friend and he prepared for his passing every day. Every day he told us stories to then tell his friend. On the day of the tree cat’s passing, he asked us one thing. He asked the grass, the suns, the moon, the wind, the rain, and myself just one thing. He asked us not to tell his friend that he has passed. He prepared us and coached us to tell the tree cat the stories he told us for years. Before he placed his small friend into the ground we asked him, “But what do we tell him when we run out of stories?” He told us that by the time we run out of stories, he would be back to relieve us of our responsibility. With that, he ever so carefully placed his small friend into the ground and placed the earth over him. He said a quick goodbye and went on with his life, making sure to see the tree cat everyday. He made sure to thank each of us for our help. He did this every day until the day he died. Soon, the house that he started a family in became covered in vines. With no one to care for it, the house became disheveled and fell apart. As years turned to decades and decades to centuries, the stories we had began to dwindle to smaller and smaller numbers. On the last day, I told my final story to the tree cat. As I ended the story, the tree cat opened his eyes; he smiled and told me what a wonderful story it was. As he told me this, he got a peculiar look on his face. A new wind had arrived, one he had not felt before. It greeted him with a voice as old as he could remember. The tree cat asked, “Where have you been all these years? Why did you leave me?” “I never left you, old friend. I have been with you your whole life and past-life. I was in the stories your friends would tell you and in the air you breathe, the sun that wakes you, and the water you drink.” With that said, the tree cat and his owner looked at each other with the same look they gave each other when they lived, each carrying a slight smile. What I saw then I had never seen since before I flowed into this land. As the two friends stared at each other, not saying a word, a single leaf fell from the tree cat’s face. As the leaf fell, his smile disappeared slowly with each leaf making it smaller and smaller until his face had disappeared. As the leaves fell, the wind began to take form. The shape of a young man appeared next to a small kitten playing in a pile of leaves. As the last leaf fell, the tree cat jumped into the welcome arms of his owner and when the leaf finally fluttered to the ground, the cat and his owner faded away to spend the rest of time together.