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    Did you ever wonder about the very first cat? Where he came from? How he looked? Scientists believe he was an animal called Miacis, a weasel-like quadruped that appeared on earth more than 40 million years ago. Quite an impressive pedigree, but I prefer my own version of the story:

    The very first cat may indeed date back 40 million years, but he didn’t look like a weasel. His name could have been Miacis, but it probably was Meowcis, an unproven but "sound" theory that makes more sense. He was born into a litter of saber-tooth tigers that lived in the forest primordial. For a while, he looked exactly like his brothers and sisters; but it soon became obvious that he was different. He was much smaller and softer with fluffy fur and a little pink tongue. His siblings shunned him. He was too small to wrestle with. He was a terrible hunter and preferred lying in the sun to chasing huge creatures with ridged backs, big teeth and small brains. Strangest of all, he never got his stripes or his large curved upper canines, the status symbols of the true saber-tooth.

    His mother loved him wildly. (How else would a saber-tooth mother love?) She doted on her littlest baby, the runt of the litter, the one who needed her most. She fed him after the other cats were asleep, knowing they had eaten all the food, leaving him nothing. She cuddled him between her paws, but was careful not to lick him, for fear that her rough tongue would hurt his delicate skin.

    One day, she overheard her other children plotting against Meowcis. She knew what had to be done, even though it broke her heart. That night, she nudged the little cat awake. She told him he had to leave the lair and fend for himself in the forest primordial. It was his only chance for survival.

    Her eyes filled with tears as he padded away quietly and cautiously on his little cat feet. He understood why he had to go. He knew that his true fate was waiting beyond the saber-tooth lair.

    Heeding the warnings of his mother, the very first cat traveled only at night. The dangerous beasts he feared prowled in the daytime and slept after dark. It was a lesson he would store in his mind’s history, a history he was creating for those who would come after him. He hunted at sunup when the smaller creatures awoke from their sleep and the fish were active. His ears were keen, his eyes were sharp and so were his claws. He was surprised to learn that he could be quick, merciless and deadly. There was no choice. Survival was all important.

    After he ate, he covered himself with leaves and pine needles and he slept. How he treasured the release of sleep. The world was so cruel and demanding. Sometimes, when he was very tired, he thought he would die of loneliness. There was no warmth in his life, no patch of sun, no mother’s fur to snuggle against. Still he went on. As the months passed, the very first cat became stronger and more determined. He was now self-sufficient and fiercely independent. And he stored those traits, too, in his evolving history.

    The rustling sound alerted him, but it was the smell that awakened him on that special morning. He had never known anything like it. The scent that wafted toward his small pink nose was strong, but not unpleasant. He peered through the leaves and pine needles and saw the strangest animal. It stood upright on its two hind legs. The front legs, which were able to move independently, were tending a bright light that moved, crackled and sparked. Despite its extreme ugliness, the creature’s face was not frightening. Well, maybe just a little.

    As the very first cat watched, the creature picked up a fish, put it on a stick and held it over the fire. The smell made him realize how hungry he was. He edged closer, too close, because he was suddenly scooped up by a smaller version of the creature. It held him up in the air and made a loud strange sound that seemed to come from deep inside its body.

    The very first cat feared he was doomed. All he had done, all he had learned was to be lost. The mind history he had so carefully built was to die with him. His fear heightened as he felt himself being lowered toward the crackling light. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was sitting alongside the light and the smaller creature was holding out a piece of fish.

    He soon learned to trust the odd beings. They fed him, gave him acorns to play with and petted his soft fur, much as his mother had done. Sometimes he was so happy that he felt a loud whirring sound inside. It was new and strange, but it seemed to please his friends.

    For the first time since he’d left the saber-tooth lair, he felt safe. Food was plentiful and he no longer had to hunt or fish, although he still enjoyed searching the woods for small animals. Old habits die hard.

    Life was good. He spent long hours stretched out near the light while he waited for something. He didn’t know what, but it was very important. He would not wait long. Deep in the forest, the very second cat was beginning an odyssey. And in a little while, she would be joining him by the light.   Copyright 2000 by H. Lesser. Reprinted with permission. 

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