Franken Cat by Doug Hawley
Franken Cat by Doug Hawley
I’ve been fairly happy since I re-animated Wendy. She wanted to leave me to get back to her bad boys after the first time I brought her back to life. I still believe that because she owed me her life, it was OK to conk her with my baseball bat for a second re-animation. Her first death was in an accident of her own making, choking to death while vomiting into the toilet. It’s all turned out for the best, at least for me. I had to make some sacrifices to keep the relationship going, like getting those ugly tattoos and settling for intimacy once a week on Wednesdays, but if you could see me, you would know that it is the best deal I could make.
If you don’t know anything about re-animation, my father Duke learned the process from a document hidden in the first draft of “Frankenstein” by Mary Shelley. Let’s say that I borrowed a copy. I’m David Hanley, the son of Duke Hanley. I have been trying to get rich off the process, but rumors of possible re-animation caused our anti-science government to outlaw re-animating humans, the same as they did with cloning, so all of we Hanleys have kept the process secret.
The tattoos and the infrequently doled out sex weren’t my only problems. I had to be good to her monster cat Jaws. When he wants anything – food, water or affection, he has to be pleased immediately. Scratching me isn’t the worst. The time that his food was an hour late, he dumped in my shoes. That’s shoes plural. Somehow he managed to parcel out his load into both.
Things turned around in late May. Wendy went off to visit her mother for a month with strict instructions to keep Jaws happy while she was gone. She said “If I find anything wrong with Jaws when I come back, you will feel my wrath.” Yes, that is what she said. I know it doesn’t sound like anything anyone would say outside of a horror story, but she said it and I believed her. I like feeling her, but I do not want to feel her wrath.
The second day that she was gone dumbass Jaws tried to jump on a bookshelf and pulled it down on top of himself under a hundred pounds of books. Dumbass was deceased. Panic caused me to think of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary and evil re-animated pets. As scary as that was, the wrath of Wendy was scarier, so I re-animated him.
The result was not what I expected. The re-animated Jaws seemed not only completely healthy, but he had become completely civilized. The new Jaws was respectful and reasonably affectionate without being clingy.
When Wendy returned, she didn’t notice the change because Jaws had always treated her well.
Except for the change in Jaws, everything was the same old until one day about a month after Wendy returned. I asked Jaws if he wanted out, knowing that he would not respond. He looked at me and picked up his left front paw and put it down. As a re-animator, I’m used to the weird, so I then asked him if he wanted me to poke him in the eye with a needle. He very clearly tapped his left front paw twice. I could see that we were getting somewhere.
Now I understand why he had concentrated on the TV, radio and all of our conversations. He had been learning English.
Over the next few weeks Jaws and I worked over what I now call CSL, or cat sign language. CSL involves ears, tails, legs and blinks. I wish that it were easier, but cats don’t talk and their faces are not very expressive. Wendy observed the whole process and was very proud of her cat. I had no choice but to admit to the re-animation. To my surprise, Wendy was very pleased, rather than hating me for letting her cat die. I even got a treat that Saturday.
Congress had never dealt with re-animating animals, so I saw my opportunity. I now had a way to not only save the lives of pets, but to get them to communicate. To start the ball rolling, I made a video of Jaws and I communicating through CSL. Sure there were skeptics, but I got a few people to try it for free, and it worked beautifully. Next there were the talk shows. We got on Ofir, Eileen, Dr. Pill, Connor and all of the big shows. People were not happy that their pets had to be dead for the process to work. However there were enough recently deceased Boomers and Boots with rich owners lined up to pay $1000 to bring their non-human companions back to life with new communication skills, to make me rich.
Wendy and I are now up to four times a week. As much as Wendy likes bad boys, she likes rich boys even better.
Jaws wants to have a few words.
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In case David didn’t cover everything, I’ll introduce myself first. I’m the famous cat Jaws, the first reanimated non-human animal. The non-human distinction is important. The Hanley family, starting with patriarch Duke who reanimated a basketball player once and his wife twice, and his son David who reanimated his girlfriend Wendy twice, used the procedure with humans first, before striking gold with me.
I say striking gold, because he makes a lot of money bringing rich people’s deceased pets back to life. I don’t want to disparage my original person Wendy too much, because we always got along, but David’s munificent animal reanimation practice has brought her much closer to him.
If you followed the biggest story of last year – me – you may be wondering if I’m really writing this. According to the news, reanimated pets can only communicate by crude sign language. What you didn’t know is that David and Wendy designed and had constructed a cat-friendly keyboard. There is no more need for me to go through the torturous process of signing, then having someone type up my words. You are getting the unfiltered Jaws.
About that name. David called me Jaws because, so he claims, I was unmitigated evil before being resurrected. That’s just one opinion. Wendy says that I always have been and always will be a real doll. Anyway, I’m not the cat that I used to be. I still have some memories from before, but it is all a bit hazy, whereas my subsequent memory is now quite good. Maybe I should be Adam since I’m the first of my kind.
One of the controversies that I’d like to clear up is the question of inter cat communication. So far it is not too advanced. We post-deaths can deal with less privileged cats much like people can. All cats want some attention, some solitude and food all the time. We aren’t very good at supplying food to our less advantaged brethren, but we can tell when they want comfort and when to be left alone.
I’d like to tell you about my new and improved sex life, but I was left holding the (empty) bag. Cats that I’ve signed with that were brought back to life before neutering say their sex lives are much better now. Rather than mindlessly pursuing the big bang, they can now engineer seduction much like their humans. In our natural state our species is rather sadomasochistic in many ways. Life may be less exciting in our second lives, but it is much healthier.
I’ve been telling you what I do know. Something that I don’t know is whether the legend or myth of human – cat telepathy, started by the alleged use of cats as familiars for witches and then reinforced by the book “Cats’ Religion” has any validity or not. The second life cats that I’ve signed with say that they know nothing about it and I can’t find any humans to comment.
Now that the science of reanimation is firmly established, what does the future hold? The Luddites see Frankenstein monsters ravaging the countryside, despite that the worst that has happened was an attempted murder and a bad gambling habit. Anyway, people and animals can be reanimated until it is done right. Rich humans want to overturn the anti-reanimation act. Those that can’t afford it or are zero population growth fanatics are still opposed.
Non-human animal reanimation was never illegal, so that is not a problem. The question now is do we get personhood along with primates, elephants and dolphins? I think that it will happen, but I may not be around for that joyous occasion. One problem is that whenever the commission tests us, some joker uses a laser light to make fools of us. Even if I’m not around, there will be voting rights for second life pets, you can bet on it. Cat as president? Why not, we know better than to go to war in Asia and with enough catnip we are very pacifistic. Anyway, after 2016 all presidents have been female humans as a reaction to some horrible male human presidents before that year. It is cats’ turn.
* * * * The End * * * *
Copyright Doug Hawley 2023
“Franken Cat” is an edited combination of “Cat Of Hanley” in Literally Stories and “Kitten On The Keys” in Synchronized Chaos.
