A Cat From Canada by Bassam Imam - HTML preview

PRETEND DADDY

I Bassam had been trailing my „pretend son‟ for some period now. From the time that I practically begged him to bail out of the plane I‟d been thinking about him continuously.

I loved Chip ever so deeply. And yes, it‟s true that I‟d placed ketchup in and around my mouth and face especially in the lip and cheek areas.

But I did it for a good reason. I did it out of love. Damn it! Rio Grande Airlines flight #356 was a target for a killing.

I‟m referring to the passengers and the plane too.

Apparently, there was someone on our flight that had to be eliminated. All I knew at the time was that it was a professional hit, not done by mobsters but by at least several separate secret government agencies.

A poisonous gas was placed in the vent system. A container with Poison X was digitally controlled and didn‟t begin to seep poison into our vent until a couple of hours into our flight. It 263

was convenient, being that we were no longer in American airspace.

As soon as the passengers and crew got hold of what was happening all hell broke loose. In addition to breathing poisonous air the flight controls had also been tampered with.

We were also lost.

The passengers decided to bail out of the plane. But when they began the bailout it became apparent that our altitude was too high to guarantee a safe landing. None of the passengers or crew had a parachute, save my son Chip.

I later came to the conclusion that every single person who‟d bailed out before Chip and I had died. That‟s why I stayed until the end.

Chip had passed out from the inhalation and shock. The few drinks that he‟d managed to sneak by me didn‟t help any either.

When Chip came to I made up an alternative story. I didn‟t want to scare him. He had to bail out of the plane using his kitty parachute. I bailed out later, figuring that I was likely to die. I didn‟t want Chip to see me all splattered on some forest tree.

But luckily, I survived with only a few scratches and abrasions. They healed within several days.

Now, leapfrogging to the present; my pretend son Chip is dead. He died as a result of continuous drinking binges without any let-up. He seemed to have forgotten that cats don‟t have the same ability to withstand alcohol as humans do.

I‟m very saddened, indeed. You see, I was one of the passengers on the Greyhound bus. I wore shades and a hat to conceal my true identity. I was gonna reveal my true identity as soon as we reached Halifax.

I drugged all of the passengers and the bus driver. I know this is gonna sound quite ironic but I brought a gas mask with me onto the bus. I hid it in my duffel bag and then waited until the best time to get to work. I sprayed the interior of the bus with a very powerful misty tranquilizer. It was I who drove the bus afterwards.

Standing beside the Greyhound bus on a dusty deserted road, I‟d just buried my pretend son. Although I was grieving terribly I had to move along.

Near his death Chip began to hallucinate, thinking that he was entering a place called Animal Town. Just before he died, though, I told him that I loved him dearly and that he was always gonna be my best friend in the whole world. I wasn‟t sure if he even understood me. But, I did say it so I did my part.

I desperately tried to revive Chip but everything that I did was in vain.

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Not wanting to harm any of the passengers I called the authorities, not identifying myself of course and giving them detailed directions to the location of the Greyhound bus. I couldn‟t just leave them out in the middle of nowhere with no food, drink or aid.

After walking in the hot sun for three hours I veered off the dusty road into a forested area. Therein, I sat down resting my back on a tree and then closed my eyes.

I must‟ve been out cold for a couple of hours. When I came to the first thing that I did was leave the forested area and resume my trek on the dusty road back to civilization.

It took me an additional forty five minutes to reach the nearest Greyhound bus station.

It was 4:00 P.M. and the next bus heading east was due to leave at 5:00 P.M.

I still have the remainder of my ticket stubs in my pocket so I decided to get something to eat from a small grocery store operated by a gas station owner nearby.

But as I was about to enter the grocery store I took notice of a little kitten begging for food and water. She approached me and then spoke.

“Excuse me sir, I‟m an orphan. My parents were killed by shotgun blasts a few days ago. The killers were drunk off their rocks. I need someone to adopt me.

Sir, can you be my pretend daddy. I‟d love to be your pretend daughter. But I do have one precondition, you can never abuse me; physically, mentally or neglect me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, that‟s clear. I‟m on a rebound too. I just buried my pretend son. I need a pretend child very badly.

My name is Bassam Imam. Don‟t worry you won‟t have to take up my family name. I know very well that you have your own family name.

“Yes, indeed, my name is Tessa Watson, I‟m from Montreal.

“Fine, I just came from Montreal. Tessa, I think you and I are gonna get along just fine.”

“Dad, I love you so very much.”

“Tessa, I love you so very much too.”

“Dad, can you pick me up, gently press against your chest and then kiss me between the ears? But wait, that‟s not all, I want you to also caress my sides and between my ears. I want you to talk to me gently and to keep reminding me that you love me and that you‟ll never stab me in the back.”

“Okay Tessa, I‟ll do that. And you must also do your share regarding how you treat me.”

I gently hoisted Tessa onto my chest then gently pressed her, kissed her and then caressed her. After a minute or so I 265

entered the grocery store. I purchased food and drinks for Tessa and me.

Following our meal I carried Tessa to the Greyhound bus ticket booth and purchased a ticket for a kitty, good for one way to Halifax.

Although I was very saddened to have lost my pretend son, at least for the time being, I found a pretend daughter. I hope that she and I will live long healthy lives together without worrying about booze, drugs or bailing out of planes.

My record is currently 0-2. In clear, my batting average regarding sons and daughters is a zero. My biological son had died and my pretend son died. I had to take special care of Tessa. She was gonna be my little baby girl. I couldn‟t allow her to get hurt. No one was gonna take her away from me.

You see, I‟ve been through so much of that; especially on Planet X. I lost many family members therein from our horrible civil war.

For Tessa I intended nothing but the very best. We‟d live in a white mansion with a white picket fence enclosing a large manicured lawn.

Toys, good food, love, a comfortable bed and many more amenities would be within reach of Tessa.

I‟ll have to see how things work out; hopefully for the better.

As soon as we arrive at Halifax, I‟ll have to purchase kitten items like a pacifier, baby bottle, a large baby crib and a litter box and some toys to keep Tessa occupied.

I feel that Tessa is hiding something from me. She looks so sad and depressed. I don‟t think that her shotgun story is true.

There‟s more to this little kitty than meets the eye.

But until I find out, she‟ll have to be treated well. I‟ll raise Tessa to be a kind and honest kitty. But I‟ll also raise her to be street and kitty smart. I don‟t want her to talk to strangers or to run across the street without looking both ways first. She must understand that although there are many good people out there, there are some really nasty ones.

And for now, all I can do is hope to be a good pretend daddy. I‟ll try to correct and evade the mistakes that I‟d done in the past.

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