Mr. Anderson was a vigorous cat as white as snow. In the wild, he had suffered from famine in winter, fought against other wild cats in spring, fell ill in summer, and finally found a family in autumn, putting an end to seasons of competition.
In his new home, he had adopted Human Mommy who took care of him. He had adopted Human Daddy who amazed him with his beard and deep voice. He had adopted Human Brother, with whom he could play fiercely. He had adopted Human Sister, who kept the delicious hamster named Croque-Monsieur locked up in her room. He smelled good and Mr. Anderson had often eaten small rodents when he was wandering. What could be more natural for a cat?
Now that his basic needs were satisfied, it was more natural to live in harmony with his new family, whether they were predators or prey.
Mommy gave him love. Daddy threw balls at him. Brother playfully confronted him armed with mittens. Sister chased him to close the door of her room. Croque-Monsieur smelled good, so good. Mr. Anderson felt at home. It was a beautiful autumn. It was a beautiful autumn that gave way to an equally exhilarating winter.
In winter, he slept warm, snuggled up against Mommy. In spring, he warmed up by chasing the balls that Daddy threw for him. In summer, he suffocated while battling Brother’s oven mitt. In autumn, he sweated as he sprinted towards Croque-Monsieur’s lair before Sister closed the door.
With all this heat and love, Mr. Anderson had to drink a lot of water. And despite all this liquid consumption, Christmas came and the liquid did not come out for a long time, causing an inflation of liquidity in his kidneys. To the point where the survival of the cat was at stake. For Mr. Anderson’s family, liquidity was flowing out more than it was coming in, due to the infamous inflation.
Fortunately, Mommy quickly realized that Mr. Anderson was not doing well. So she and Daddy took him to the animal apothecarius: the animothecarius.
In a sterile room, Mr. Anderson had been put in a cage. His neighbors were Ms. Trinity, Sir Timine, Mister T, and Or-Feline Rex. Ms. Trinity was suffering from malnutrition. Sir Timine had injured an eye while losing a duel against Or-Feline Rex. Mister T was so old that all diseases had taken up residence in his body. Or-Feline Rex was just like any other forsaken old cat.
Mr. Anderson did not feel at home. The tests he had to undergo were most unpleasant. Some involved inserting sharp needles into his flesh, and others, worse, involved inserting a tube into the tube from which the liquid was no longer coming out. After this nightmare of needles and tubes, the animothecarius went to see Mommy and Daddy.
As if it were a matter of life or death, they exchanged phrases, but Mr. Anderson didn’t understand a word. However, he could clearly see that Mommy was suffering, crying and pacing around while muttering undefinable words. As for Daddy, with expensive tears in his eyes, he counted on his fingers. On the other hand, the animothecarius remained silent, visibly waiting for some kind of decision to be made. He too counted on his fingers, but obviously for different reasons.
—Would you like to know what this exchange is about? asked a guttural voice that came out of nowhere.
Mr. Anderson looked around him, searching for the invisible other who could mysteriously communicate with him. Perhaps it was the magic of Christmas?
— Who are you? he meowed. Where are you?
— I am merely a religious idea, but I have infiltrated all human decisions since the era of the pharaohs through a deluge of liquidity. And I take my fair bite in each of these decisions. I am Kyurensi the shark and I have been lurking in people’s minds since they learned to count on their fingers.
— I admit that I don’t understand…
Mommy and Daddy exchanged words, ideas, and concepts. There was clearly a conflict in this animated discussion.
— Do you want to know, Mr. Anderson, do you want to know why your mother cries like an orphan? Do you want to understand the stakes of the game that will seal your fate?
Mr. Anderson was a courageous cat. He had overcome famine, triumphed in all his wars against other competitive felines, and survived illness. How could his destiny be at stake?
— Enlighten me with your wisdom, he meowed.
— To enlighten you with wisdom? No, like your masters, I will blind you with my coherence and crush you with my logic in the depths of your subconscious, where no light emanates. For by my mere existence, even if all means to guaranty your survival exist and are accessible, it does not imply that your survival is guaranteed. Perhaps you are nothing but an accessory to those you call “your family”, who knows?
— I must admit again that I don’t understand.
— You will only live if I get my share, Mr. Anderson. And the most fabulous thing is that even if your family decides not to save you, I will still get my share. I am the shark that represents all means and all ends.
Mr. Anderson shivered and sweated at the same time, even though the place was better air-conditioned than a school. Was this chimeric shark lying or not?
— How can I trust you?
The shark burst into laughter and the cat trembled with terror, vomiting its kibble. Daddy quickly grabbed some paper towels and cleaned up the mess while Mommy comforted Mr. Anderson, her eyes swollen with tears and her nose dripping with despair. As for the animothecarius, he had gone off to count on his fingers something else somewhere else, as far as the cat knew.
— How to trust me, you may ask? I am the only way humans have to trust each other. You can trust this, Mr. Anderson: your family will be offered the amount they can afford to ask for. But is there enough left in the amount of their debts to pay for your right to live, Mr. Anderson? What sacrifices are they willing to bear for the pleasure of bringing you back to the mortgaged home sweat home?
— I would do anything for them, so I believe they would do anything for me, he meowed.
— It’s not a matter of would, but of worth. Does your life is worth a family trip? Does your existence is worth a new television? Does your presence is worth your brother or sister’s education? What is your worth, simple cat reduced to a simple expense?
The animothecarius returned, syringe in hand. Mommy was stroking Mr. Anderson as if she were in mourning. For his part, Daddy pulled out a card from his enigmatic leather receptacle.
— So, who will win between the cat and the shark, Mr. Anderson? Good night and pleasure to see you again, or not. Merry Christmas and Happy No Year!
The shark chuckled again as the animal healer pricked Mr. Anderson. He glanced one last time at Mommy and Daddy before turning around to take a final look at Ms. Trinity, Sir Timine, Mister T, and Or-Feline Rex. And a moment later, the snow-white cat fell asleep and everything turned as black as the bottom of the shark’s mouth.
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…
Monsieur Anderson opened his eyes halfway. He was comatose, but still there. He didn’t know exactly what the animothecarius had done to him, but there was no doubt in the cat’s mind that his survival was guaranteed. The fur on his groin had been shaved and he wore a damned transparent cone around his neck that prevented him from licking that well shaved area.
— Good morning, Mr. Anderson, Kyurensi’s voice echoed.
This time it was Mr. Anderson who burst out laughing.
— You see, oh Kyurensi, that the love of my family is stronger than you. I have won!
— Perhaps your family allowed you to win this battle, but I win all the wars and triumph in all my crusades. Turn around and behold the magnificence of my reign, Mr. Anderson.
In its cramped cage, the white cat turned around like a coin flipping from heads to tails. And he stumbled face to face with what had just happened.
Ms. Trinity, Sir Timine, Mister T and Or-Feline Rex seemed to be sleeping. In a deathly silence, the animothecarius moved away with his syringe.
—They will never wake up again, Mr. Anderson, Kyurensi said. You can count on me for that: they weren’t worth it, and there’s no need to worry about them. They are just a sum of profits collected in my bottomless vault. Just like any elderly dogs, cats, hamsters, and any other creature that humans greedily lay their eyes upon, season after season.
The animothecarius arrived back with a stainless steel service cart. Filled with a certain emotion, he placed the drowsy liquidated felines inside and headed towards a strange source of heat behind a wall further away.
— Now, I ask you to be grateful, Mr. Anderson. You, you live, thanks to my mercy. You owe me your existence and you will never be able to repay this debt. This is my era and you are in my sea. I am more valuable than any mother, any father, and especially, especially, I am worth more than any child, young or old. Because don’t forget, Mr. Anderson, that no one can escape the pharaoh shark.
Mr. Anderson felt crushed by the weight of this logic that had none for him.
— I haven’t forgotten that you’re just an idea, shark of misfortune.
— You are the only one who doesn’t forget it. Because for humans, I am their air, I am their engine, I am their fuel and I am all their endeavors. Without me, they would sink into the depths of savagery and become animals like you, Mr. Anderson. I am what separates humans from beasts.
The animothecarius took Mr. Anderson carefully. He brought him to the reception of his clinic and finally, the cat returned to Mommy’s arms who was now crying with gratitude.
— You see, oh Kyurensi, not all humans are savage.
— As long as they count what doesn’t count at the expense of what does count, I will have the biggest share of the cake, and I don’t share. The shark doesn’t give gifts, and I’m not a gift. Goodbye, Mr. Anderson, and until the next transaction. Merry Christmas for the time you have left before I swallow you.
And as the shark had requested, Mr. Anderson became grateful. Life had given him a second chance. In the arms of Mommy, who was carrying him towards the metal chariot that transports humans, he was eager to see Daddy, Brother and Sister again, but most importantly, to smell the aroma of Croque-Monsieur. His mouth was already salivating.
