Athena Law

The Void wasn’t always named The Void. Originally the kids named him Sirius Black for the colour of his fur. We assumed they were being wildly unoriginal – but the joke turned out to be on us. Our offspring took great joy in abbreviating his name to Siri. They’d shout this out from dawn to dusk, causing every i-device in the house to spring into illuminated, helpful life.

The electronic Siri didn’t know what to make of gleeful instructions to fetch a ball of foil, chase a spider, or eat a piece of cheese. Neither did feline Siri. He’d simply sit, statuesque in his stillness, staring down his handsome black nose at us all. I’d seen memes about cats having a Primary human and Spares, however Sirius regarded our entire family as Spares.

Reportedly cats sleep for eighteen hours a day. We didn’t know where Sirius slept, because he’d just…disappear. One moment he’d be right there, drinking from his water fountain and then – gone. I’d search every room of the house, under beds, in closets, under every bush in the garden, but nada. 

Between the general distaste he showed for our household of Spares and the continuous vanishing acts, it was puzzling. That is, until I figured out what was really going on. A truth so outlandish that I didn’t believe it myself for weeks, let alone tell the family. 

Sirius has been leaving us and travelling to another dimension. Not only that, but I believe that occasionally he takes items with him. One pearl earring. My left AirPod. The white Queen from the chess set. My best theory is that when he curls himself up into a tight black knot he forms a void, unfathomable and yet portable. Portable through a Portal, that can take him to another house, a better house. 

The cat — whom I no longer think of as Sirius — is in the Void, he is at one with the Void, he himself is The Void. Inscrutable, elegant, dismissive. Black as night, sleek as a midnight seal, and as unknowable as the language spoken by tweens. 

The exact location of the Portal utilised by The Void has never been located. I do know two things. 

One: upon his return he materialises instantaneously, either on the bed or in the kitchen, twisting around ankles yowling for food. 

Two: at the other end of the Portal is a very fortunate Primary human, the one who presumably gets all The Void’s loving head bumps and adoring dribbles, not to mention my bloody AirPod. 

___________________________________________

Meanwhile, at the other end of the Portal-

“Dear Cat Shelter. We are seeking to rehome a male cat, who not only hides from us for sometimes days on end but is incredibly unfriendly. Last week he brought a venomous baby snake into our bed, which seems impossible as we live on the 20^th storey of an apartment block, and he’s an inside cat. Please help.”

What Athena said about the prompt:
As a cat servant for nearly 40 years, I loved writing an ode to a (fictional) fur-child. I myself am the smug beloved Primary of my own cat Tolliver the Ragdoll who actively hate-scratches the rest of the family.

Athena Law is an award-winning, Pushcart nominated short fiction author & poet, whose stories have appeared both in print and online. She lives on a hillside in the lush Sunshine Coast hinterland in Queensland, Australia, where she collects pencils and has all her best ideas at midnight. Her writing support animal is a ragdoll named Tolly, who is 90% floof and 10% chaos goblin.
Website: https://www.athenalawauthor.com.au/

Read more from Athena:

Andromeda Literary Magazine – ‘In Search of the Else‘