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Kreska and The President - fragment 2
2009/01/26
Where is hope?
Exactly a week had passed since Kreska had gone to bed in the armchair. She only went to her bowl, twice a day, and also made a trip to the litter box each evening because she was embarrassed in the light of day. She no longer rolled about in the shoes, didn’t lick the backpack or try to run away from her own shadow.
Until suddenly, lazily – because it was summer – she began to rummage and rootle. She looked in the wardrobe if she found it open, stuck her nose in the rubbish bin and dug around in the gravel. The President found her doing this last thing.
“What are you looking for?” he
She was so surprised she jumped up.
“Hope! I’ve lost it and I don’t know where it’s gone!”
“But why are you looking in the gravel?” miaowed The President in a mocking tone. Kreska grew sad, because it was wrong to laugh at such things.
“So where am I to look?” she asked, staring at him seriously.
“The question is not where, but whether you really want to find it,” he mewed.
“Hope is in a box, and I know the way to it. But you have to know that this box has its history. Once there were all sorts of misfortunes in it that cats are afraid of: cold, loneliness, hunger and dogs. The box was shut, until a curious she-cat opened it and let out all those horrid things.”
Kreska was panting with excitement, as The President continued.
“The terrified she-cat shut the box, leaving just one misfortune inside it – which was hope. We think it’sprecious, but it’s the exact opposite. We wait for opportunities and aims, but when we open the box, we’ll realize we’ve been cheated. Do you really want
to find hope?”
Kreska started purring at such a fantastic idea.
“Yes, I do.”
So The President took her through a secret door, down some secret steps and into a secret room, where there was a box.
“I’m not going in there,” said The President.
Kreska disappeared inside and was gone a long time. The President could just hear her biting through a string, panting and sighing. Finally she came back.
“And what did you find?” he wanted to know.
“You must have been wrong, President. There was nothing dreadful in there, just a little cat, a bit like me. Maybe it’s the one who was the first to open it? She looked at me and was happy.”
The President was plainly disconcerted, because he didn’t like not being right.
“All right then. So where’s this little cat now? Why didn’t you bring her with you?”
Kreska crouched down.
“Because you see, President, she’s fine in there. Her bowl is full and she might be dreaming about being stroked. So I thought if I took her, if anyone else comes looking for hope they might be very disappointed if all they find is an empty box. That little cat…” she wondered, “someone might need her more than I do.”
Translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones
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