Cappuccino

Cappuccino

By CJ Darnieder

Saturday, 9:39 AM

‘Morning is the most beautiful time of day,’ Cappuccino thought as he defecated in the upstairs hallway. Cappuccino didn’t really have to go, but he was fresh out of clever ways to wake Marisa up. He had already screamed in her face on Tuesday and farted in her ear on Wednesday, so what else was there? Cappuccino could not wait one minute longer for lazy Marisa — the early bird may get the worm. Still, he would get another tangy helping of Fancy Feast’s tuna casserole, his absolute favorite dish, and the source of the stench coming from his liquid feces on the runner.

Marisa didn’t wake up immediately. She mostly just stirred, her brain clearly disturbed by the scent but ultimately unable to distinguish it as the threat it was in her twilight slumber. This result displeased Cappuccino, and for a second, he was beginning to think he should have just farted in her ear again. Just as he was about to let out his first of many bloodcurdling yowls of the day, he heard Marisa’s Rumbly Brick.

“Ah, she stirs!” he exclaimed, pleased that it would wake her, even though The Rumbly Brick was technically his rival. After all, the Rumbly Brick got most of Marisa’s attention and belly rubs. And because of this, Cappuccino was equally fascinated and jealous of the Rumbly Brick. After five rumbles, Marisa answered in a dewy voice, “Hello?”

Cappuccino was no fool; he knew it would be Marisa’s idiot Brian calling to say good morning. Now Cappuccino may have considered The Rumbly his rival, but Brian? Brian was his nemesis. Brian was a big, broad idiot with a goofy grin that made Marisa insanely happy, which made Cappuccino hate him. Cappuccino had put up with getting in the way of his friendship with Marisa for nearly three years, and yet Brian refused to give him any rubbies, tum-tum pats, or scritches — the monster. Plus, he was always yelling at Cappuccino for seemingly no good reason! “Stop biting my toes!” Brian would exclaim, not understanding that his toes were salty and nutritious. “Why are you peeing on my hat, you stupid fuck!” he shouted, not realizing that the hat was Cappuccino’s now; thank you very much. And the thing he hated most of all — closing the door for Bouncy Moany, mostly because he could tell Marisa wasn’t enjoying herself very much, and Cappuccino was certain if he were allowed in, he would make it all the more fun.

“Oh, hi, sweetheart,” Marisa cooed. Cappuccino yakked. Tuna emerged. This runner was history.

There was a pause, followed by a marked change in Marisa’s voice. Her volume increased, and her awareness doubled, “Wait…you what?” Another pause. Cappuccino licked the barf off his tiny pink lips and directed his ears towards their room. “I…I…no, come over,” she sounded upset, perhaps slightly angry, but mostly desperate. “What the fuck are you talking about? Why are you calling me about this? You need to come over, and we need to talk.” Cappuccino was getting worried about Marisa, she was awake for almost a full minute, and he still hadn’t been fed. Did she know he was still alive?

A longer pause, interrupted by brief onomatopoeic sounds from Marisa that, in Cappuccino’s native tongue, roughly translated to, “Hey fish lady, give birth already. It’s been a whole week!” But Cappuccino knew that couldn’t be right, as Marisa was not a fish, nor did she taste like one. He needed to get a good look at her to see what was so much more important than the fact that he was withering away both physically and, perhaps more tragically, emotionally.

Cappuccino entered their room. Marisa was sitting bolt upright in their bed, and Rumbly Brick superglued to her fart ear. She was crying silently, though her anger was loud and palpable. She began shouting expletives into The Rumbly. The eruption frightened Cappuccino, and he skittered back through the hallway and down the stairs into the kitchen to knock over cereal boxes and process what he had just seen. While Cappuccino was sad that Marisa was crying, he was excited about the idea that Marisa was mad at Brian, or possibly even the Rumbly Brick, and that maybe he would get more rubbies than both of them now. The sheer volume of rubbies was almost too much for Cappuccino to imagine; his hair crackled as he caressed his body against a box of Raisin Bran Crunch, which reacted with an immediate face plant to the linoleum. He sat on the counter, looming over the river of breakfast cereal, waiting to become the most important thing in Marisa’s life.

After what was at least forever, Marisa had finished shouting into the Rumbly Brick at Brian and stormed into the hallway. Cappuccino could hear Marisa throw the Rumbly Brick hard against the wall. It was all happening now. He jumped off the kitchen counter and re-positioned himself at the bottom of the stairs to ensure he could see what Marisa had thought of his handiwork.

Marisa stood in the hallway with all the somberness of an ocean siren, beautiful but forever trapped in a moment. However, when she saw the steamy dump, her face transformed into a series of shapes Cappuccino did not recognize. Like the pivot of a Gatling gun, Marisa’s neck snapped in Cappuccino’s direction, her eyes glazed and locked on her target, and for the second time this morning, Cappuccino had wished that he had simply farted in her ear.

“YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT CAT! LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID!” she boomed as she flew down the stairs in Cappucino’s direction. Cappucino was not expecting this, and his pupils dilated in fear the closer she got to the bottom. He had never seen Marisa this angry before. She stopped hard at the bottom step, towering over Cappucino like a wrathful god. A tense silence. He racked his pea brain for a moment, and then suddenly, he remembered that Marisa was always happy when he spoke. In what could only be considered a stroke of genius, Cappucino opened his bitty mouth and began regaling her with his ancestors’ song. Cappuccino had a beautiful singing voice.

“OH MEOW MEOW MEOW, LOOK AT ME, I’M A FUCKING ASSHOLE CAT. I’M SO CUTE.” Marisa bellowed sarcastically, bending down and getting in Cappucino’s fuzzy face. ‘Well, that certainly backfired,” Cappucino thought as he inched his head into his neck to escape her morning breath. He knew she was upset, but to offend him and his legacy so? This person was not the Marisa he knew.

Still crying, Marisa turned to look in the kitchen and noticed her favorite morning breakfast, shattered and broken on the floor. This scene was too much for her to bear, and the moment’s weight caved in on her. She short-circuited, sank to the floor, and began fully sobbing into her arms, unable to pretend any longer that she wasn’t heartbroken.

It was at this moment that Cappucino was starting to feel slightly guilty. It seemed Marisa was possibly upset at something he had done, though he could not imagine what for the lives of him. He tepidly walked up to her, hoping that through an apology in the form of belly rubs, they could get through this.

Marisa raised her head, locked in on Cappucino’s eyes again, and spat at him, “You stay away from me, you asshole! You’re just a selfish piece of shit! You don’t love me!” Cappucino froze with one hand in the air, and they stared at each other in silence for a moment. Cappucino was hurt. He loved the things Marisa did for him dearly. He loved how she gave him treats when she got home to apologize for interrupting him, enjoying his day away from her. He loved how she pretended to wretch when he would bring her a dead sparrow, just so that he could have all the bird meat to himself. And most of all, he loved her belly rubs. They were perfect, soft, but not too soft, and always in the spot on his stomach right above the spot that makes him insatiably bloodthirsty. She was perfect.

Marisa lowered her head and made herself smaller to make her crying space more private. Cappucino sat and looked blankly for a moment, then meekly walked over to the Raisin Bran Crunch splayed on the floor and started munching on it with his tiny teeth. “What did I do wrong?” he wondered, spitting up a gently mushed raisin, “Am I not sensitive enough to her needs?”

Marisa slowly raised her head, still sobbing heavily, and reached one solitary shaky hand towards Cappuccino’s sensitive butt. She scritched, but Cappuccino was caught entirely off-guard by her advance. Whipping around to save himself from what he was sure was a common house rattlesnake, he bit Marisa as hard as he could. Marisa shrieked and recoiled, and Cappuccino immediately recognized the taste of her blood. He could feel the terror rising in him, not unlike the tuna did earlier in the morning. It was an honest mistake, confusing Marisa for a predator, but one that came at too high a cost at that moment.

Marisa reignited, “Oh my God! Fuck you, Cappuccino! You’re just like Brian! You only care about yourself!” Shrieking hysterically, she bolted up the stairs into their room, slamming the door behind her. Cappuccino didn’t know how to feel. Never in his wildest dreams would he expect Marisa to compare him to Brian, and he wasn’t sure any amount of tum-tum pats would ever heal the fissure that this moment had caused in their relationship. He feared that the days of a Raisin Bran Crunch exclusive diet were just beginning.

Saturday, 4:18 PM

The energy in the house was blue, and while Cappuccino had been fed, it was kibble, which only further confirmed his worst suspicions that his magnificent life with Marisa was coming to a close. Cappuccino decided to give her space while she ate a forty-count bag of pizza rolls in their room. He was left entirely alone with his thoughts in the living room, which played the same sentence he had heard earlier this morning over and over, “You’re just like Brian.”

Was it true? Was he like Brian and blind to it all this time? “I’m not Brian,” Cappuccino said to soothe his aching ego. “My name is Cappuccino!” Yes, his name. Cappuccino. The word in his native language roughly translates to either “gallant gentleman” or “wet eyeball,” depending on your dialect. But what did it mean to Marisa? Betrayal and disrespect?

Cappuccino couldn’t bear the thought of Marisa being angry with him anymore, nor could he imagine stomaching any more of that heinous kibble he forced himself to eat earlier. Hence, he decided that regardless of Marisa’s readiness, it was time to get down to business. He learned from Marisa that whenever she didn’t know something, she would talk to her life coach, Alexa the Great, who lived on the kitchen island. Cappuccino had never spoken to Alexa the Great before. He was almost afraid of her omnipotence. But the situation was dire, so Cappuccino swallowed the knot in his throat and marched head first into the kitchen.

Upon entering, he set his eyes skyward. There she was: Alexa the Great in all her majesty. Cappuccino decided it would be more proper and formal if he spoke to her from below. That way, she would see he had nothing but respect for her. But what would he ask first? He hadn’t considered that he could ask Alexa the Great anything he wanted. Questions like, “where does the Red Dot go?” and “what happened to my ball sack?” raced each other to exit his mouth. But they would have to wait. Cappuccino cleared his throat and shakily managed to Alexa the Great, “H-hello, Alexa the G-Great.”

No response. With a bit more enthusiasm, Cappuccino tried again, “O great Alexa, hear my cry!” This time, he received a dull, “I’m having trouble understanding.’” His emerald eyes shifted from side to side with confusion and frustration. He could not be speaking any more plainly. But Cappuccino refused to give up. He inhaled and shouted directly to her in a voice that shook the heavens, “ALEXA THE GREAT, PLEASE! I NEED YOUR GUIDANCE!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU STUPID FUCKING ASSHOLE!” Marisa screamed from their room. More shouting was not a good sign. Marisa was now even more upset with Cappuccino, but the fact that she could hear him was illuminating. But that raised the question: was Alexa the Great ignoring him?

He knew his answers would come at a high price, but the risk was worth the reward. He decided he needed to investigate Alexa the Great further. Cappuccino lept onto the kitchen island and began to sniff Alexa the Great. Metallic, with hints of human fecal matter, as expected. Then he noticed a few curious buttons on top of her. Nervously, Cappuccino stuck out his hand and slowly pressed down on one of the buttons. To his surprise, Alexa the Great made a loud beep, causing Cappuccino to dart off the island in a panic and fly into the pantry. Breathing heavily, he regathered his thoughts, “Okay…okay, stay calm. I’m not sure what she just said, but it sounded…threatening.” he breathed. But he remembered back to when Marisa would ask Alexa the Great questions and realized that she made the same noise when Marisa would talk to her. Scared but excited, Cappuccino waited to see what would happen next.

The sound of grinding glass behind him threw Cappuccino into a fit of terror. He bolted away from the noise as fast as his stubby little legs would let him. But instantly, he caught a whiff of the smell, a familiar one that Marisa loved. He stopped dead in his tracks and cast his eyes to the counter. Cappuccino’s minute lips fell open. The Zoomy Water machine had started.

Cappuccino could not believe it; it was so obvious. There was never a day when Marisa didn’t enjoy cups on cups of Zoomy Water. Under normal circumstances, Cappuccino would scoff in protest at the machine, as it often took priority over him getting his morning wet food. But he couldn’t have been happier to see it working its magic in this instance. Ironically, he was never really fond of the beverage, having licked droplets of it off his toe beans many times before. He was more of a matcha kind of cat.

As the Zoomy Water continued to brew, Cappuccino sat with pride and eagerness, knowing that Marisa would love him again for being incredibly selfless. After a few minutes, the machine beeped again. Cappuccino turned a watery gaze over to Alexa the Great and gently whispered, “Thank you.” In her omniscience and wisdom, she replied with a simple, “I’m having trouble understanding. Did you say, ‘meow meow’”?

Saturday, 5:03 PM

Marisa floated like a specter down the stairs, being drawn by both grief and the scent of hope. Cappuccino stirred from a gentle snooze on the cool kitchen floor upon hearing her gentle footsteps. He raised his tiny head, eyes flittering with exhaustion from the grueling work he had done earlier. Once his amber eyes could focus, they shot open. Marisa was coming downstairs.

Cappuccino didn’t know whether to be excited or scared. Whenever he gets scared, he pees. But whenever he gets excited, he barfs. And confusingly, Cappuccino felt like it was about to come out of both ends. But he held the tuna-flavored kibble and the small amount of water he found by the dishwasher in like a champ. He darted behind the entertainment center in the living room, nervously splaying his toe beans apart, hoping that Marisa had calmed down and that Alexa the Great had not failed him.

Marisa’s bloodshot eyes could only mean two things: she was crying in her room or had somehow gotten into Cappuccino’s catnip. If it were the latter, he thought — but no, revenge would have to wait until he had more information. However, he made a mental note to test the balance of her expensive vase in the living room if needed.

He continued to watch Marisa with bated breath. She looked like she was being pushed by time rather than moving of her own free will. She opened the freezer, pulled more pizza rolls, threw the whole box in the microwave, and turned it on. Even Cappuccino knew that couldn’t be right, and he had a brain the size of a cremini mushroom. He began to make his way into the kitchen to warn her about the possible fire hazard. At that moment, her spine shot toward the ceiling, and she turned her head towards the coffee maker.

“Coffee?” she murmured with hope. She panned the room with sadness and confusion. Her eyes eventually fell upon Cappuccino, who met her gaze with expectation and hope. She turned to the coffee maker, but Cappuccino could swear he saw the corner of her mouth quiver. That was usually a good sign: she had only done that when doing some of Cappuccino’s favorite activities, too, like eating, rubbies, and pooping.

Steadying herself, Marisa grabbed her favorite mug from the cabinet. Cappuccino inhaled. He loved that mug because he was on it. It was the only mug he swore he would never knock down, if only because of his vanity. She poured herself a cup of coffee and turned back to Cappuccino. They sat silently for a moment; Cappuccino didn’t know what to say. He thought about asking for food, but that might be in poor taste. Maybe he would go and rub up against her legs? No, that was too risky, considering how upset she had gotten earlier. So he continued to stare at her, and she continued to stare at him.

Marisa took a sip of the Zoomy Water, keeping her gaze on Cappuccino. She paused for a moment. Within seconds, the shadows in her eyes faded ever so gently, and Cappuccino watched with amazement. She moved toward him and said, “You know, I named you after my favorite thing. Coffee. Well, coffee isn’t a very cute name for a cat. But Cappuccino is a type of coffee. Plus, your coat is mostly white with some brown, like a cappuccino.” Cappuccino beamed. What a charming, boring story.

“I don’t know how this coffee got here, just as I don’t know why you chose to come to my doorstep that rainy day. But I’m glad it is. And I’m glad you did. I love you, buddy. Thanks for being my friend.”

Cappuccino furrowed his tiny brow. He felt something warm enveloping the cremini mushroom inside his noggin. He hadn’t felt like this before. It was close to pride, like when he would bring home mice for Marisa to eat. But it was bigger than that, more intense. And better, too. Marisa bent down to give Cappuccino rubbies, and the feeling shot through him like brilliant lightning, all the way to his poofy tail. He had made Marisa happy, which was his goal. But how could he be so happy to see her happy and not want anything in return?

Marisa got up to pull the fire hazard from the microwave. With new resolve, Marisa walked to the kitchen table and sat to enjoy her coffee. Cappuccino hopped on the chair next to her and watched for a moment. How would he describe how he felt to Marisa? He was sure he would get tongue-tied at some point, which is painful when your mouth feels like unfinished granite. She took a few more sips before she found Cappuccino staring at her again beside her. However small, she smiled a genuine smile, “What is it, Cappuccino?”

Cappuccino’s intense feelings allowed him to find the words for Marisa. He lost all his nerves, and to his surprise, the thoughts began to fall out of his mouth effortlessly.

“Before you found me that day, I hadn’t had kibble for weeks, maybe even months, honestly. No warm place to stay. No one to give me rubbies. Always fighting with squirrels over scraps and running away from vicious, uncivilized dogs. I swore I wouldn’t live with another human after how they treated me. But I was so tired of running, so tired of going hungry. Showing up at your home was my last hope. I figured no matter what I had to endure, at least I wouldn’t have to be alone. I was so mean to you at first. But you were patient with me. I had no idea people could be like that: kind and loving. It almost felt like I didn’t deserve it at first. I thought about running away again because I was so worried that you would eventually just treat me like they did. But you never have. Not once.”

“What I’m trying to say is…I am so lucky to have you, Marisa. I may have a funny way of showing it by ruining everything you love and farting in your ear while you sleep, but I want you to know I am. And since you saved me from my lonely existence, I just want you to know that as long as you have me, you’ll never have to be alone. I can’t always make you as happy as coffee, the Rumbly Brick, or Bouncy Moany, but I won’t leave your side, Marisa. Promise.”

Marisa sat in quiet shock, listening to Cappuccino pour his heart out. She drank it in as she took another sip of her coffee. After she set the coffee down, her shock returned to a smile, wider this time, as she scritched the sweet spot behind his left ear.

“Boy, you sure are chatty today, buddy.”