Dancing with the Moon

You think you know me. Just because I live with you and share your secrets, you think you know all of mine. Fool! I can be whatever you desire, but a part of me will always remain a mystery, for my true self emerges only when you are asleep. Who am I? Read on and it will all become clear.

The early evening sun paints the sky with shades of red and orange. I catch a reflection of myself in the patio windows with streaks of gold; I could be a tiger.

“Cuckoo, cuckoo.”

Too slow again, it returns to its box before I can pounce. One day I will get him. It must be time for food as my tummy grumbles. Sauntering into the kitchen, well, I mustn’t appear too eager. No doubt it will be leftover chicken, which will do. If only you would let me have a whole chicken, then I could pretend I was a tiger ripping it to shreds. Never mind, my teeth can sink into what is left as I savour the saltiness on my tongue.

A cleanup next; well, I need to look my best. You are all slumped in front of a large screen that resembles a window, but it does not open, and it fascinates you.

Rat-a-tat, the flap bangs as I leave. Creeping along the hedgerow, the rustling of leaves the only sound, as a sliver of light appears before clouds hasten away, leaving the Moon exposed, her brightness illuminating the way. Through the trees a whisper comes from her shaking the leaves.

“Dance with me, Nova?”

In return, I throw the Moon a haughty stare, one only a cat could convey.

Like me, the Moon can be secretive. I never know how she will be. Just as I hide, so does she at times. Sometimes she looks ghostly, as pale as Granny Kettle did just before a van with a flashing light came and took her away. Other times she looks full of blood as the leaves turn to gold. It fascinates me how she changes shape; if only I could do that what fun I could have.

Overhead, the screech of the barn owl gives me his greeting. The owl is my friend, nocturnal and wise; we have so much in common, especially the love of capturing mice. Talking of mice, a rustling under the crunchy fallen leaves means something is underfoot. Whiskers twitching, my paws scramble at the leaves, revealing my prey. They stand frozen for a second, a frantic thumping in their chests as I get ready to pounce. Damn, not quick enough, as they scarper. One day they won’t be so lucky.

As I proceed on my way, a young bat, nestled in the gnarled limbs of an ancient oak, calls out for its mother and father. Whispering secrets, the trees sway and sigh in the cool night breeze. In the silence, the river gurgles, lapping against the stones. Willowy reeds wave a greeting to me just as an otter glides into the rippling water. Graceful as always, but water is not for me, even if you say it will cool me down in hot weather. No thanks, I would rather find myself a nice cool place to lie down and groom myself after all surely everyone knows that cools a cat down. Over on the other bank, Brock, the silent, majestic badger, drives his way towards the mysterious wild woods that lie beyond.

Above my head, the nightjars serenade everyone below. Fluttering fireflies, like sparks of flame, dance to their songs. The trees emit a groan, a sound that echoes their deep-seated weariness from hearing the same stories. A crispness fills the air tonight, a sure sign that Jack Frost will soon arrive with his icy breath. I know that a lot of you dislike Jack, but I like him. Do you not think he cuts a striking figure with his fine, silvery hair standing stiff and frozen around his head? Like me, he is a predator; my claws extend to kill my prey, while one movement from his fingers kills all in sight. His touch may seem like soft caresses, but don’t be fooled.

Time for a rest to admire my surroundings. Free to roam and explore while you are trapped in a single room, eyes glued to whatever it is that holds your attention. You don’t know what you are missing. Patterns form among the stars, while below, a symphony of music comes from those who inhabit the nocturnal world. It is a different world one you miss out on.

My journey continues. Above, moths flit their way through the air, tormenting me with their wings flapping at my face. With a spring, my paws are ready to swipe, but the moths are too quick, one calls out to me.

“Come join the dance, Nova.”

With a silent swoop, the owl lands on a nearby tree as a fox weaves its way through the thicket. Moonlight reflects in its eyes, turning them a molten gold, making them appear bright and alert. The owl’s low, haunting call echoes through the trees as the fox pauses, its tail curving like a question mark in the silence, twitching a warning. A gentle murmur of the river is the only sound as the fox vanishes into the deepening night, its white-tipped tail the last flicker we glimpse.

Time passes all too soon. I know you go to dances. I have heard your talk about the glittering lights and the loud music that is played. Don’t you ever stop to think you aren’t the only ones who can dance. Each night the Moon invites all of us to join her in a dance. We have our own lights, we have soft, melodic music, and if we are quick, we can grab a bite to eat. All for free as well.

The light from the Moon fades; I know soon we will have to say farewell. As the dawn chorus begins, the sky turns from black to hues of blush pink and lilac. With a yawn, I blink before a swish of my tail I turn and head for home.

At my door, I let myself in, stretching my limbs before making my way to my favourite chair where I will lie till you awake. You’ll come to me and hold me, unaware of the journeys I’ve taken and the sights I’ve witnessed.

I have experienced many sights, heard countless sounds, and smelled scents beyond your comprehension. Basking in the night’s glory, I have seen all the beauty and richness that it gives. You have spent your nights doing what? Despite all your claims of wisdom, you will remain ignorant of the fact that I, Nova, have danced with the Moon and you don’t know me at all.