From:
Three Rivers Raidho
Cat Sheikh.
Written by
Alexei Romanov Pahlavi
Here is the entirety of all the cat stories I have written thus far- the origination was literally a dream from several years ago and a chalkboard drawing “of a normal cat with a normal name” so long ago Harambe was still living.
Enjoy the following series of Sufic-style commentary American Academia and Islamic Scholarship as seen by cats living on an imaginary college campus called “Alaraph College” After Al-Araf, both a description of pu[r]rgatory as well as a Quranic Surah.
Because yes, you are that bored- you have truly chosen to read about shape-shifting cat Sufi’s escaping totalitarianism by hiding among human beings while protecting themselves, kittens, and their clowder from exploitation.
I don’t feel very creative when I write these, they are mostly written directly to amuse the people who claim to read my writing most, and thus, some of them are depicted as cats for their reading pleasure.
[If you would like to NOT be depicted as a cat, I strongly suggest avoiding myself and all Tasawwuf materials entirely. All cats depicted look nothing like human beings whatsoever, and if you cannot discern a human being from a Cat; even an entire Order of scholars cannot help you🙃 -Author, Alex R. Pahlavi]
With that being said; here are the cats:
“New Questions”
Written by Alexei Romanov Pahlavi
An elder gray Tomcat neatly grabbed the younger calico by the scruff and vanished into the invisible den under the corner of the building which lead to a neatly carpeted alcove between the wall and basement window.
Although much smaller, and slightly fluffy, he did not compare to all the varieties of silver, grey and as deep as perhaps, revlon black, and allowed himself to be wrestled into an awkward, yet protective, feline hug.
“New Questions.” Said the elder cat in clearest Catlish.
“When you visited the Prophet in dreams, what manner of creature were you”
“I was a cat, just like this.” replied the calico, allowing himself to allow that great grey plume to curl protectively around him.
“Ah! A cat just like this, not… a Fox?” The calico winced, and the elder grey long haired, purred. “No? Whom else did you see on the Road in that dream that you knew?”
“You, but as a man and you were disagreement with Johnny. Zahir walked separate but near, Mufti Menk had a parachute, and Nurjan was carried on a golden litter like Divine Catering. ” The calico tried to hide further into the gray.
“Was there anyone else and were you one hundred percent certain it was Johnny I was fighting with.”
“No & maybe…sir?” the calico was now curled in a neat circle, nearly upside down in the clearances of fluffy varitone cat tails.
“Does it matter, Tell me why or why not.” The elder purred loudly until the younger calmed visible
“No, it does not matter,” said the little calico, paws batting at nothing but errant fluff, “…But in the dream you left me there.”
“Clearly, I always return” replied the older cat with slight affront. “What else…?”
“There was only one man walking beside you as you hid me in your pocket, and he was the man called out onto the carpet after Allah granted me the privilege of sleeping on that Holy shoulder, wrapped in perfumed and silken human hair.” quoted the younger, poetically.
“Overrated” said the elder cat as he licked the other on the forehead, curled up protectively tight around him until no calico fur could be seen, then they both promptly fell asleep together in a pile of fluff and pleasant dreams.
Ameen.
Mr. Fish
Written by
Alexei Romanov Pahlavi
After seeding, the clouds turned a sickening yellow and the small calico scurried under the broken corner to find their friend, the fluffy gray cat, on his frayed edge of carpet between the human wall and the outside stones. Heat arrived in waves from the uncovered bit of metal grate against the back of the alcove. Too hot to sit on directly, but pleasant to sit in front of like a smokeless fire.
Gray cat, whom was upright prior, attentively glancing out of the window corner, finally relaxed enough to flop sideways just in time for the neutered calico to curl up against him and hide under his tail from absolutely nothing.
“When did you stop trusting humans?” asked the calico to the elder gray.
“When the only human I ever loved left me here surrounded by dogs…. You?” The elder cat replied as he removed bits of leaves and ash from the fur of the younger.
“When humans seek my attention, then act like I am something unwanted to be removed” replied the younger as they examined their fine, transparent claws and variegated toe beans.
“Humans are not consistent beings,” reassured the elder cat as he purred languidly against the increasing storm outside, “…I cannot tell you how many stupid names they try to give me.”
“Oh? I don’t doubt that. My name is Mr. Fish… I was named this after a human was told they were only allowed to care for a fish here. They cared for too much and went away.”
“That is the way of human beings. I was hidden inside a desk drawer off and on for years and fed mostly tuna fish.”
“I hate humans,” replied the calico brightly, playfully munching the other cats ear, ” …what did they call you?”
“Schopenhauer. At least he read him to me.” said the grayer cat bitterly as he adeptly dodged more innocent teeth to pull a small twig out of the tail of his younger, idiot companion. “Human beings know nothing about love.”
“True. I would rather be on this cold stone floor on a threadbare rug with you than anywhere else. And even if there was nothing here but you, that would be enough.”
The Very Loud People & The Orange Cat
Written by
Alexei Romanov Pahlavi
The old man tried to lock the calico in his tuna drawer again so he was back hiding with his fluffy gray friend in the back of the library again.
“Haha,” said the human beings, “They are grooming each other”
…and the cats simply sneered at you in feline contempt as they studiously removed all traces of human filth from their soft & brilliant furs.
A beautiful orange and white cat snuck in as well, he was also escaping the dreaded tuna drawer. This was a drawer in a college office where cats were kept in secret and fed tuna only in the dark.
The long-haired gray cat had terrible time there. The new orange and white cat had a terrible time there. The orange and white cat lived in rotation between catching rats at the auditorium, sleeping in the chapel, or getting treated like a normal housecat in the Chaplains’ office. Orange cat was also very loud and lanky like an abyssinian, but was actually fully Irish Manx and so Lynxy he was often used to simulate bigger cats in plays.
So. He hid all the time now, as much as possible, knowing if human beings caught him they would put his tufted ears into an itchy hat and tangle his fur in stupid velcro dressing him like a lion or an angel or a genie or whatever the play demands.
….or, if old man tuna drawer catches him, he could be locked in a desk drawer between classes and overnights with a kleenex box half filled with tidycat and one to three cans of tunafish.
So here was orange and white cat- he has bright blue eyes and is very clever, mostly preferring to sit in high places and Watch humans rather than be pet by them. Then, as soon as it was noticed how pretty his fur and how passive his nature, that is truly when his life started to suck.
Orange cat, we call him “Muezza”, was insecure. He did not know if he would be welcome as the old man yelled outside that he “was the number one expert in catology” and “that no other human loved him more”
The little calico said to cat colored the same as an orange dreamsicle “Is the human yelling for me or you? I just barely escaped the tuna drawer. My Friend taught me how to stay safe.”
“CAN you Teach me?” asked the orange cat.
…and the calico tackled him while purring, wrestled him to the ground, despite being much smaller, and said:
“We ignore human beings and only eat what is safe and not a trap from them. We do not trust their collars. When they try to trap us, escape. Share food and warmth with other cats, and let us pick all the crunched leaves and old tuna out of your furs- we don’t care you are prettier than we are- it’s just that incense, oud & old crusty tuna smell really weird together.
And when the human beings yelled outside, orange and white cat either yelled back louder, hid his ears under a ripped blanket, or the calico would wrap himself so thoroughly around his head he couldn’t hear the humans outside anyway as the gray long haired kitty remained perfectly content & unaffected no matter what any human said at all.
Another Stupid Cat Story
Written by
Alexei Romanov Pahlavi
Muezza and the Calico had gotten into quite a disagreement prior to sharing shelter in the alcove in the stone library non-cats could not and would not access.
First of all, Muezza was more commonly known by human beings as “Orange Dreamsicle” and his beautiful kittens were seen as the ultimate sign of alumni loyalty to the university. Muezza did not realize he was permitted to stay “intact” because he was an unusually attentive father, and all his kittens inherited his intelligence, docility, sweet temperament, and high tolerance to human manipulation as well as his beautiful orange-Creamsicle fur proving to be Uber dominant above most other local cat genetics.
At the end of kitten season, have-no-heart live traps were often left around campus to traffic the kittens-…I mean, *cough*, to the loving homes of dearly graduated students with totally normal lives who also totally don’t dress cats up on costumes, place them on camera, then sing to them for several hours at a time for likes on social media.
But maybe thats a school tradition thing- because cats are supposed to sing together until human beings throw shoes or whole raw fish at us to stop. They wish they were cool like us cats.
Anyway. Muezza says that Mr. Fish needs to stop biting human beings and be more like his kittens. Mr. Fish counters that he has raised every kitten he adopted to hunt in the fields and never ever rely on human beings for anything whatsoever for any reason and bite them to prevent ever being hidden in the tuna drawer by anyone.
So. Muezza inquired of Mr. Fish, “Why do you stay here if you Hate humans?”
“BECAUSE I LOVE SCHOPENHAUER” he whines with his whole chest. “He is here…so here am I.”
Schopenhauer covered his lynxy ears and hid under an embroidered pillow Mr. Fish stole for him prior out of ear pain and embarrassment.
…Open human type affection is unseemly in libraries.
“There is nothing wrong with caring for your clowder, however Your human given names are not very healthy,” said Orange Dreamsicle, “Surely you can find something better to be called over ‘Mr. Fish’ & ‘Schopenhauer’…‽”
“Ibn Arabi, I want to be named after a better human than Schopenhauer,” stated the fluffy gray cat immediately. “Hey, little one,” Ibn Arabi said to his companion, “Pick a new name”
“How about Ibn Arabi?”
“Funny. Okay, Little Calico Jack is called “Echo” then”
“How about Calico Jack?”
“Human beings going to just call me ‘Mr. Fish’ no matter what” said the Calico miserably.
“See? This is why you need human beings. I like “Calico Jack”… If you either had a collar or had enough articles written about you in human papers, they would never call you ‘Mr. Fish’ again. Imagine -” said Orange Dreamsicle, “-A world where they RESPECT you. Maybe getting a bite from tiny Calico Jack becomes the next hazing. Greeks tattoo your Fang prints unto their hands as a symbol of fraternity….!”
“That sounds horrid in every way, Orange Dreamsicle.”
Ibn Arabi didn’t say anything at all, he was very busy enjoying the only full sunbeam in the alcove and it would be incredibly bad Adab to disturb him; he was smiling gently on the warm side, his silver furs looking golden in warm & temporary glow. He wasn’t listening to the younger, more orange cats argue too closely.
Ibn Arabi was purring and reflecting with gratitude his fur had zero orange whatsoever except what rubbed off on him from loved ones…which indicated his intellect remained fully sound and his reputation as a very intelligent and philosophical sort of cat intact.
He was feeling so warm and magnanimous, Ibn Arabi said to Calico Jack & Orange Dreamsicle:
“Do you not both know the cat that belongs to the human chaplain? Why do you not get him to mediate…also, go get Bird the cat from the feild. It is getting cold and even Bird needs to come indoors.
So, Orange Dreamsicle and Calico Jack left as soon as all the human students were inside to retrieve the other cats for the feline Quorum as Ibn Arabi finally enjoyed his sunbeam in peace in quiet away from all kittens.
We follow Calico Jack because he is best identified by his foxy colored tail he keeps boldly erect above the Indian paintbrush grasses and Prairie weeds to find Bird first, then the Chaplain.
Bird looks exactly like Orange Creamsicle except gray instead of Creamsicle orange. He was called ‘Bird’ because after years of refusing to eat a single avian, they decided to become his friends and attack human beings that tried to abduct him further after already notching his ear, stealing his family and putting him through surgeries. Crows eat rats as easily as they enjoy peanuts. Bird liked to feed the carrion birds, and sometimes, share with other cats.
“Asalaam Alaykum wa Rahmatullāhi wa barakātuh, Bird. Orange Dreamsicle, the theater cat that looks like a bigger, Orange version of you, would like to argue that we need to learn to be nice to humans”
“WaAlaykum Salaams, He’s brainwashed into Stockholm Syndrome, but still, I respect him greatly as a cat scholar, and I will listen to him….if. and only if. I get the closest spot to the heating grate and don’t have to cuddle with anyone.”
“No one wants to be bitten by you, Bird. We will meet you in the stone library.”
So Bird scampered off, invisible in the weeds as well as the campus, his gray and cream fur blending into every biome…as Calico Jack boldly scampered to the local prison.
“Oh look, it’s meine Hilfen, Mr. Fish the Calico,” said the prison chaplain who put out a big dish of oatmilk as well as a can of chicken paté…. The prison chaplain was actually quite the mystic and understood cats that were equally strategically and politically valuable as human beings.
As a result of this conclusion, he had had tamed a bobcat he found in Ephrata until it was docile as a ragdoll, called it a “pixiebob”, put him in a police therapy cat vest, and absolutely let him come and go as he pleased.
His name was Fylgia, and no one ever believed he was a dangerous bobcat. Just a very stripey housecat with a horrible tail accident.
So, Like the man who put him and 17 other cats in prison chaplain vests, Fylgia the Bobcat was a cat chaplain. [Flygia still was not bigger than Ibn Arabi if you included Ibn Arabi’s fluff.]
So. They met inside the alcove and instead of five cats present, Calico Jack counted six.
He counted himself first, then Ibn Arabi looked bemused but uninvolved, Orange Creamsicle sat upright with patience & agitation, Bird reclined against the opposite wall entirely bored, and in the middle of the room, was Chaplain Fylgia the Bobcat in a Vest facing down the perfect purebred cat of the chaplain of the local mosque.
This cat was named Zahir, and he had perfect Adab. His fur was a shiny cream color and his ears, paws, face, and tail were a perfect contrast of chocolate- his tail was as plumed as a Persian’s and his eyes were very dark, but he could not see very well. It did not matter because the chaplain fed him lutein and a special diet anyway.
The problem was now that Old Man Tunafish was now outside setting out Traps for Calico Jack and giving lectures about why proper cats, when trained and isolated properly, enjoy being locked in drawers while making such a loud commotion outside, despite the fact that Calico Jack had been outside all day retrieving Bird from the field and Fylgia from the prison, the louder the man outside called every name for the Calico, he, the tiny calico simply burrowed himself into his best friend, Ibn Arabi’s fur and then pulled the varigated silver tail of his same friend over himself completely and tried to block everyone else entirely.
Bird agreed to ignoring human beings entirely and sat directly on the heating grate, complaining loudly about why human beings were inferior to cats and how he, Bird, was locked in the medical dorms and nearly had his spine vivisected by students barely competent for chiropractic study much less veterinary neurology…Bird’s loud caterwalling about his own life problems definitely drowned out the outside human. Fylgia the Bobcat slipped outside and intentionally distracted all other humans students & guards with his impressive vest and willingness to be pet as Calico Jack continued to make ridiculous confessions to Ibn Arabi about never ever leaving while human beings still live and not falling asleep until the calico could match the frequency of Ibn Arabi’s purring.
Orange Dreamsicle sighed and slinked outside with Zahir
“Salaam Murshīd Tuna Fish man,” Said Zahir the Chaplain Cat, “It seems you place many cans outside this wall after you trap many cats, that seems odd you seek the feral blotchy one without adab.”
“My current favorite kitten escaped from the drawer before he was properly trained to no longer trust anyone at all outside of what I say is good for him” said old man tuna fish, “other humans do not wish cats in my building”
“Pity” said Orange Dreamsicle, “Makes sense though….I really disliked that drawer.”
“That feral calico is different than you & dangerous to the status quo, you ungrateful Orange Moggie. Also,,He appreciated me and my company.” said old man tunafish
“Naam, but did he enjoy the drawer…?” Inquires the Chaplains cat, smoothly…. [whom No one would ever place him in a drawer because he was perfectly behaved.]
“It does not matter if he likes the drawer or not, that is the only way I can keep a cat in my office. You remember that, Muezza. You lived in my drawer for years and now look at you! Head cat of the entire Theater! Name in All Lights Every Semester! They build entire productions out of you, my boy!”
Both Zahir the chocolate seal point Chaplains cat with the perfect tail and Muezza Manx the Orange Creamsicle cat just stared at Old Man Tunafish.
“Calico Kitten will miss my dark drawer of tuna fish” Said old man tuna. There were several cans opened, barely munched, and likely only by rodents.
“The little calico is velcro to that moody Persian again.” stated Orange Dreamsicle
“Ha! My Loyal Muezza still tells me everything.” said the old man, “If we remove the Persian, then he will return to enduring human beings!”
Orange Dreamsicle, out of deep caring, actually stayed in place so old man Tunafish focused on him instead of seeking the other kitties sleeping in the moonlight cast by the scrap of window onto a small cave of a stone library cave, inaccessible at present, to the further horrors of human intervention
“Why can’t cats just live with cats without humans trying to shove them into drawers?” asked Zahir mildly as he innocently cleaned his face.
“Because they cannot survive without me” stated old man tuna proudly.
“Little Calico runs a feral hunting clowder in the adjacent fields with that other cat the Persian adopted, the grey and cream that looks just like Dreamsicle…pretty sure they eat vermin.”
“Bird. His name is Angry Bird, and he is no longer allowed at this college… and dead rat is less attractive than canned tuna to anyone. “
“To you,perhaps, Did you also lock Bird in a drawer, Human?”
“No, that was an act of Cair. And you, dear Muezza, should not be skeptical or ungrateful of my methods”
“Old Man tuna fish, you have never once been locked in a drawer, fed mercury fish and only allowed to shit in a box as no one else could hear you scream except for other cats that could do nothing to help you.
“You cats severely overestimate my humanity,” replied old man tunafish who then revealed he was not human after all, simply painfully shorn of all his catness.
Muezza & Investigator Khawla
Written by
Alexei Romanov Pahlavi
It was still kitten season on campus, & the Dean had purchased dozens of fresh metal traps filled with fancy feast paté, purified water, and crunchy bits shielded from rain, Kindly, with fine umbrella fabric to catch every stupid kitten. [Surely little kittens are totally not traumatized in small cages removed from their cat families and placed with horrible human beings at an exceptional profit.]
Although Muezza Manx, Aka Orange Creamsicle, was indeed an orange kitty, he had grown wise with years and learned no matter how many Traps he triggered “by accident” he was simply “a fluffy boy seeking open snacks” rather than correctly ascertained to be protecting his countless kittens.
A human investigator was now on campus examining the feline neurology department on campus closely, and that investigator was named Officer Khawla, who died a little bit inside every time he put on the blue uniform for his $15/hr campus security cover job as the investigation continued, primarily after dark, patrolling horrible scientific places Dhikr beads, flashlight, bodycam, PETA BFF on radio, and not nearly enough cat treats for the little convicts wired with electrodes and blinded by “Science.”
The Dean was an old friend of the family who retired from SIS into the gentler life of manipulating students to torture cats with isolation, far too little stimulation, and painful scientific rituals at least three to five times a day.
Other departments clearly objected, primarily in liberal arts and political sciences. Like the cats, they were simply isolated, blinded from awareness of further experiments, as each new kitten birthed anywhere near campus was live trapped and wired with implants and recievers that made each cat not only a more effective listening device than a bugged & keylogged phone, but also opened the feline mind and body to subtle manipulation that allowed for augmented cats to remotely induced agitation or calm.
….and the worst part was Alumni were paying hundreds, if not thousands, for the finest, fluffiest surveillance of their own prior university to scrape them for marketable information to use the cats to experiment upon the students, remotely, by simply influencing the behavior of a cat, and then using the imbedded receivers to transmit the information directly back to Dean.
…Whom also had taken control of every operating system of every student, faculty, and other employee or affiliate anywhere affiliated with his territory like some sort of territorial human lion with boundary issues.
It was now the 6th time today Investigator Khawla had to release the fluffy orange and white unofficial school mascot from a livetrap near the library, and officer Khawla was now fed up.
Instead of shaking the handsome orange manx out of the trap and letting him run free as per usual, the feline convict was seized, held with all four sets of toebeans in the air, and unceremoniously carried by the officer the college students affectionately named “Officer K-pop” due to his unusually youthful appearance, $25 haircut, and love of Jisoo music, into his office which smelled of incense and boss cologne.
Once inside the darkened office, the very next thing that Muezza the Manx smelled…was Ibn Arabi, and sure enough, under the desk to the left side was a little blue cat bed absolutely coated in his epic Persian hairs next to a porcelain set of bowls which the Officer brought to the top of the desk, filled one dish with half a bottle of Evian, and pulled out a Styrofoam from a mini fridge in the corner to place a large chunk of leftover salmon, formerly abandoned on wilted lettuce, crushed into the second blue bowl.
As the orange Creamsicle cat munched away, the officer ran his phone over every major joint of the animal with his cellphone, took screenshots of the results, then removed a small white pen looking device from his pocket with a tip that lit up bright red each time it found a current.
As the pen was run along the sides of the cat, continuous circuit lines were detected down the spine, across the cranium, and along major meridians and joint access points across the body.
And despite there being several IP addresses attached to chips subdermally implanted over most of his body, the one chip he lacked was one of common veterinary identification, between the shoulder blades, like typical civilian cats.
“Hello, is this the Ombudsman’s office? This is campus security and we have apprehended the orange maurader yet again and have him under our custody. Upon evaluating the suspect, it was discovered he does not have a formal ownership chip betwixt his shoulder blades. Can you please tell me whom is primarily responsible for his care? Oh, I see, Thank you.”
As he munched his salmon, he felt a few headpats.
“Hello, Theater department? Campus Security- Is anyone there claiming ownership of Big Orange Cat? Only during play season? Just students…Yes, I will accept the transfer…. WaAlaykum waSalaam Chaplain! I was just transferred from Theater to you, it was suggested the orange cat may be yours..
No…? He is merely a friend? Do you think anyone would mind if I co-opted him for campus security? Well! Barakallahu Feek to you as well, Sir- That is very generous of you and I am actually feeding him salmon. I hope to have him properly and comfortably outfitted to prevent further incidents shortly.”
Then, the officer hung up the phone, went to the filing cabinet, and pulled out an extremely rough envelope filled to the brim with every variety of “Alaraph campus police” Badges and pins… then had a better idea.
As he continued to eat, Muezza could hear the printer and the sound of tape. Yet, Salmon was far more interesting.
As Soon as the salmon was eliminated, however, he found himself picked up again and placed on the floor. In front of him were 4 equidistant print-outs.
The first had a large swirly ice cream on a stick and the words “Orange Dreamsicle”
The next was written in plaintext black script “John The Cat”
Next an all red sign that simply said “BIG RED MANX” in all caps
Finally, a simple Crescent moon with the name “Muezza” written in English then as موزة in Arabic
The orange cat considered each sign carefully, then pounced on the one with the name “Muezza”…
So the officer brought out new signs, with the same names bit changed the backgrounds. This time, the name Muezza was written on the red sign all in caps as BIG RED MANX was prior, and still, the cat chose the name Muezza.
Finally, the officer laid out four signs with the names written simply on each, without adornment. The cat chose “Muezza” again.
The next test, like the one prior she set up the names unadorned but removed the name “Muezza” and replaced it with “Mr. Fox”… The cat laid down and did not move.
…Finally, the officer placed three entirely new names in plain font plus the name “Muezza”… and with great confidence, Muezza chose his name.
“Well, Muezza- you have proven competent and literate enough to serve as your own advocate. Choose what badge you want to wear and we will figure out together how to best fit it to you. We can get you a little vest like that bobcat owned by the ex-history professor at the prison or we can just put a little badge on a harness or collar. You decide, little dude.”
So Muezza climbed into the envelope and pulled out a typical sized patch as well a lapel pin more often given to old retirees who served overseas.
“Guess you need some sort of uniform, let’s go find you something appropriate.”
So, the Investigator offered his shoulders to the cat, who curled around his neck like furry orange Creamsicle scarf, and the officer punched out for a long lunch to the local petstore to take advantage of the post Halloween sales on cat costumes.
When they returned, Muezza was wearing his lapel pin that said “OFFICER” on a breakaway collar and an adorable little hat with holes for his ears that newly sported his officer badge. In the car, a little buttonhole camera was attached to his collar,
“There you go Officer Muezza, now everyone knows you work for campus surveillance,” said the Investigator as he picked up Muezza, once again, all four paws in the air, as they returned to the office to find the Dean Himself sitting behind the desk.
“Hello Sir, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“What are you doing with the campus mascot?”
“I had determined no one had taken priority over his care, and after making several phone calls, Muezza is now a proud member of my campus security”
“You don’t even technically work for campus security, Murīd. You were supposed to help me expose the corruption of our institution and help me shut this blasted place down”
“Animal rights issues are human rights issues, Sir. Respectfully speaking. There is no reason this university should be engaged in illegal pet trade and augmentation of moggies.”
“You stole my cat.” he said plaintively.
“You kept him in a drawer in your office”
“It made him docile and friendly.”
“The same thing made others so feral they were put down.”
“I only tried to save the best ones from being culled or subject to further experiments; if you cannot understand and must persecute me as well for necessary abuses so be it… Truth remains, you stole at least two of my cats and it feels like blackmail.” He stated attempting his best to speak without emotional affect.
“I cannot steal what cannot be owned- if a cat can read, then any claim of ‘ownership’ is clear enslavement”
“The cats are more like Friends or Servants.”
“Not locked in a drawer with tunafish or wired with surveillance tech to spy on students, alumni, and faculty. You KNEW What I would find here, respectfully speaking. If you were in my position, what would you do?”
“In my position,” offered Muezza, “I would ask questions about transferrance of consciousness studies between humans & animals during periods of intense concentration/disassociation sessions, multiverse theory, and the idea that the written word has the power to influence realities Politcally, Mystically, and Intellectually if the correct audience is reading these words in a receptive frame of mind.”
“Wow, that was really a mouthful for an orange cat to say.” said Officer Khawla
“That’s one of my cats” said the Dean of Islamic studies.
“This cat can’t even sleep in the same building as you long term, Sir. Your office doesn’t allow cats. Otherwise, we wouldn’t keep tracking them to your drawers.”
“Are you implying my drawers are filled with cats?”
…and was met with silence.
“So. You aren’t going to give me my cat back…?”
And both humans turned to look at Muezza who looked adorable in his little officer hat and simply cleaned his face with his fluffy paw.
“I am utterly and totally powerless regarding my own fate” deferred Muezza.
“You are absolutely ghoulish, Alex… You cannot communicate by making men into cats like Circe the Corrections Officer and creating elaborate metaphors instead of cryptically commenting on my social media…”
Investigator Khawla replied ” …like awkward antivillians trying out our new ovaltine decoder rings to talk about cat husbandry.”
“Meow” replied Muezza. “I am a cat”
The Dean of the university gestured wildly at the Investigator dressed as campus police, TO the cat:
“This is also a cat, Muezza. So long as you are sleeping in this office fat and lazy on Salmon, you lose track each time he escapes to the library with Schopenhauer. Astaghfirullah, I am not turning you back into a man if you keep getting seduced by your surveillance targets with adorable hats & headpats”
sure enough, officer Khawla had escaped while the Dean argued with an orange cat… and went home to his alcove adjacent to a library that had a nice heating grate, a window, and loved ones.
Muezza would find his way back eventually or end up in the tuna drawer again.
Healing Words
Written by
Alexei Romanov Pahlavi
in
Uncategorized
“I do not listen to the chaplain, but I listen to Zahir,” said the little calico cat, “You look less than Muezza than I thought you would, Lion.”
They were at the edge of a large, muddy field, Bird remained back in the library along with Ibn Arabi [Schopenhauer], Zahir, Fylgia, and even Muezza. It was just the small calico and a fully orange cat, slightly scruffy, with a beautifully long plumed tail and ears, much like a Norwegian Forest Cat if he were shorn except for ears, parts of the face, and his magnificent tail which he had to keep upright to prevent any filth from touching him.
Sadly. he had given up that practice today. Lion was usually only seen in high windows of the college, sitting alone, where he could rarely escape. The prior Muezza, the theater cat, rat catcher, and so wired that his entire body was a shock collar that kept Lion limited, usually, to an apartment of one of the above-rules administrators.
Lion looked 20, but it was simply lack of care; he was once a true mascot of a long dead fraternity and pampered so thoroughly he was on billboards, but now, less cared off and on, sometimes the door was unlocked and Lion could escape- Ibn Arabi avoided him entirely except to comment on the scent of his trails.
Muezza acted…oddly. Before Calico left, first Muezza tried to stop him with his entire body, indicating Lion was not to be trusted, then tried to claim “There was a Reason I Replaced him…”
Lion was locked behind the windows of an upstairs apartment designed during the roarin’ 1920’s and wasn’t exactly accessible to the public much.
Today, the door was open, and his captors had left for the weekend, so the very first thing Lion did was contact the first cat he could scent, and that was our own Mr. Fish, Calico Jack.
“Help me,” said Lion, “I want to live as a cat, this is the first time I have been out in years. At one time I was emaculate,” and he gestured, “and now, I am neglected and starving. No one cares for me, they tend for my needs, then largely abandon me. I don’t want to die like this, alone in a window, and likely buried or burned by human beings who don’t even remember the people who once loved me.”
“I am stuck on this campus because Schopenhauer remains unable to leave; each time he tries, he is shocked badly by implants from the feline neurology department. The Dean made him a pet at one point, but it doesn’t erase the damage from the years in the cages.”
“I know the cages well,” said Lion, “I was right there beside him. They were testing us both as we remained separated by a clear wall. Paws against the glass, sleeping side by side without feeling a thing, for years.”
“That explains a lot,” replied Calico.
“Hmm?” replied Lion, “Explains what?”
“What is important to him, when he is upset, some cats want to hide, or bite, or scream- he just- sort of grabs me, takes me to the corner of the library and occupies me completely until I fall asleep covered in his fur- if it is late, he will find me. ‘It is sleep time’ he says ‘if you do not sleep you will experience great hardship’ and I say, ‘What hardship?’ and he replies ‘poor health and my own decline as I continue to chase you to sleep.’”
“Every night in the laboratory, they would turn off the lights at 11pm. ‘Goodnight Cats & Kittens’ they would say, as if it were a pleasant joke, not that many were open, bleeding, and some actively blinded with drips and restraints where all we could hear was their screamings.”
“Ah, but you and Schopenhauer became so friendly and learned to groom yourselves and each other well enough to win hearts to save yourselves?”
“Why do you say that?” replied Lion
“You won mine easily enough.” replied Calico, “But you can not claim to wish to die as a cat and live as we live when you retire back to the human apartments at the slightest discomfort. You are free now, Lion, but for how long? You have no responsibilities where you are now, except “to be a good boy”- sit nicely on chairs, groom yourself, show affection or disdain to the right people based on your handlers’ subtle direction. Cover your mess, don’t make noise unless they wish it, sleep with whom they ask you to sleep….”
“You are a painful tutor, Calico.”
“Life is a painful tutor, Lion. We only escaped because of acts of God. Do you Remember what Surah of the Qur’an was most important to me?”
“Surah Al Kahf; the Cave.”
“Na Lion, Surah Al Jinn. When Jibril tells the human messenger that the Jinn heard a beautiful recitation and decided to serve Allah. That the world wasn’t just created for human beings, it was created for humans AND non humans. Do we not, as cats, swarm around any man in a compact mass if we like him enough?”
“The Very idea that you are utilizing Sufic metaphor and breaking the 4th and 5th walls intentionally as you predict my reactions to your words always astounds me, Alex”
“Why thank you, the guy in this series of stories I refer to as the prison chaplain with the therapy bobcat taught me in Urglaawe that most people only read the first few paragraphs of anything, so I can speak Fairly openly here, and this way. Schopenhauer and I have been doing this in monitored texts conversations since 2011 in a lesser form, so long as we keep the basic story structure, only close friends, and intelligence professionals care to read this far…except for those who claim to be enemies or unlawful surveillance whom really should have better things to do with their time.” said the adorable calico.
“Do cats truly go out of their way to hate anyone? Truly?” replied the older POW cat totally held against his will at the University most of the time and forced to wear human costumes for the entertainment of SIS. “Are we forced to perform for men forever?”
“No, but we are cats of Abnormally High Influence, so I am told, that things take time. That we are supposed to trust God to take us through this feild” replied the Calico as he began to perfectly trot through the feild, with his little paws fitting into prior bigger pawprints effortlessly.
“How do you step so easily into the footsteps of other cats?” asked the scruffy elder orange cat with the teal eyes and very heaviest collar.
“Oh, I don’t.” replied the Calico, “This is only because it is the steps of Ibn Arabi.”
Loading…
←Muezza & Investigator Khawla
Healing Words→
Comments
Leave a comment
More posts
Shady Maple.
December 20, 2025
Facing East
December 19, 2025
Kafka Makes a Good Decision
December 18, 2025
Two Princes
December 18, 2025
Three Rivers Raidho
SIGINT in the Swamp
Blog
About
FAQs
Authors
Events
Shop
Patterns
Themes
Twenty Twenty-Five
Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.Do Not Sell or Share My Personal Information
The Chronicals of Alaraf 