Leonard
“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
The sun had been playing hide and seek all morning. I could barely concentrate on combinatorics. It was all very beautiful, but, the alternating gloom of clouds and the joy of verdant brilliance drew me out on to the streets, and, given the confused state of mind I was in, I was glad to lose my way. My mind, drifted from one thing to another, and finally settled on a strange incident. And, as with all strange incidents in my life of late, he was involved.
There were times when he was awesome, there was times when he was pathetic. There were times when he was a legend, there were times when he was a shame. There were times when he was a demi-God, and there were times when he was a pitiful human hypocrite. I don't know what this incident made him.
I hated dogs. I could live without one, happily. I could live without a pet. So, there was this time, when he brought home a fur ball, a wretch of a creature. What it was, I did not know, neither could I figure out. Very conservatively, he said he would place it somewhere between the simian species and that of domestic felines. A fur ball, with retractable claws, that moved about largely on its hind legs and, later it turned out, that it was smarter than most of us.
So, Leonard came into our lives. I found it a rather playful thing. It was ethereal. It was treated the way it wanted to be, the way a 'human' friend would have been treated. It recognized its handicap in English, and so great was its comprehension of human communication, that seldom did he have any trouble understanding it. It ate what we ate, it did what we did, and so on. But, I could not resist the feeling that it was a very little child. So great was its innocence, and its need for care, that he could not think of leaving it alone.
My friend's occupation enabled him to give it near constant company, and I was surprised to see him give up all his 'alone' time for the wretched little fur ball. And, to it, he was everything, he was life and he was happiness. It made him human. It made him joyful, happy, and sociable. He went out, dined, supped and shared a drink, met people, got to know them.
And, then, he met Katherine. I had known Katherine for a couple of months now. A bright lady, smiling always, and very down to earth. I fancy he, like he always did, loathed female company, especially, this very fine specimen of it. But, then, those months were different. He, invariably turned up for every dinner that I asked him to come to. He came with us for every walk, every little trip we made, and even turned up at a night club once (We couldn't get in, and I'm sure he was mighty relieved). I had my suspicions that Katherine was the reason behind this sudden change in behaviour.
Leonard was, poor fellow, left alone when we went for these little trips. But, the little beast, apparently healthier and more at home, made itself comfortable by the radiator, and, sulked a bit when his master left it alone, but, otherwise, I'm told, it lived alone for those few hours. He, on the other hand, resented leaving it alone, but then, an infatuation is a crazy thing.
So, one day, Katherine and a few others had come over to cook at our place. Our kitchen, otherwise used to scanty meals of two bachelors, was refreshed by some culinary expertise. And, Leonard ambled into the kitchen. No one noticed it. Its master, lifted him up and put it on the table, so that the babbling women did not trample over it.
This motion of lifting something and putting it on the table, drew a friend's attention. She laughed and asked him what he was doing. He replied. So, they picked up this 'creature' he described, threw him around, hurt him. They laughed at it, and they laughed at him, unwittingly, thinking that this was a joke. It pained me to see his 'pet 'treated the way it was. I was disgusted. It pained me to see him suffering thus. He watched in silence, with the look of a person used to this kind of torture, on his face. I walked out of the kitchen to my room.
I was in my room, reading a Wodehouse omnibus. He walked in and sat down. Never had I seen him so disturbed. He hissed, in a cracking, disturbing and haunting voice, that it was time for dinner.
I asked him how Leonard was.
'I killed him.'.
The shock was great. I had known him to be weird, to be mad, to push himself to crazy limits, and to do things that were highly irrational, but all that was limited to himself. He was the only person he hurt in these things. And, then, to kill a creature!
His reason was that it almost made him fight with Katherine.
I was brought back to the present by the blinding lights of the Indian restaurant. Home and warmth were just a minute away.
There were times when he was awesome, there was times when he was pathetic. There were times when he was a legend, there were times when he was a shame. There were times when he was a demi-God, and there were times when he was a pitiful human hypocrite. I don't know what this incident made him.
I hated dogs. I could live without one, happily. I could live without a pet. So, there was this time, when he brought home a fur ball, a wretch of a creature. What it was, I did not know, neither could I figure out. Very conservatively, he said he would place it somewhere between the simian species and that of domestic felines. A fur ball, with retractable claws, that moved about largely on its hind legs and, later it turned out, that it was smarter than most of us.
So, Leonard came into our lives. I found it a rather playful thing. It was ethereal. It was treated the way it wanted to be, the way a 'human' friend would have been treated. It recognized its handicap in English, and so great was its comprehension of human communication, that seldom did he have any trouble understanding it. It ate what we ate, it did what we did, and so on. But, I could not resist the feeling that it was a very little child. So great was its innocence, and its need for care, that he could not think of leaving it alone.
My friend's occupation enabled him to give it near constant company, and I was surprised to see him give up all his 'alone' time for the wretched little fur ball. And, to it, he was everything, he was life and he was happiness. It made him human. It made him joyful, happy, and sociable. He went out, dined, supped and shared a drink, met people, got to know them.
And, then, he met Katherine. I had known Katherine for a couple of months now. A bright lady, smiling always, and very down to earth. I fancy he, like he always did, loathed female company, especially, this very fine specimen of it. But, then, those months were different. He, invariably turned up for every dinner that I asked him to come to. He came with us for every walk, every little trip we made, and even turned up at a night club once (We couldn't get in, and I'm sure he was mighty relieved). I had my suspicions that Katherine was the reason behind this sudden change in behaviour.
Leonard was, poor fellow, left alone when we went for these little trips. But, the little beast, apparently healthier and more at home, made itself comfortable by the radiator, and, sulked a bit when his master left it alone, but, otherwise, I'm told, it lived alone for those few hours. He, on the other hand, resented leaving it alone, but then, an infatuation is a crazy thing.
So, one day, Katherine and a few others had come over to cook at our place. Our kitchen, otherwise used to scanty meals of two bachelors, was refreshed by some culinary expertise. And, Leonard ambled into the kitchen. No one noticed it. Its master, lifted him up and put it on the table, so that the babbling women did not trample over it.
This motion of lifting something and putting it on the table, drew a friend's attention. She laughed and asked him what he was doing. He replied. So, they picked up this 'creature' he described, threw him around, hurt him. They laughed at it, and they laughed at him, unwittingly, thinking that this was a joke. It pained me to see his 'pet 'treated the way it was. I was disgusted. It pained me to see him suffering thus. He watched in silence, with the look of a person used to this kind of torture, on his face. I walked out of the kitchen to my room.
I was in my room, reading a Wodehouse omnibus. He walked in and sat down. Never had I seen him so disturbed. He hissed, in a cracking, disturbing and haunting voice, that it was time for dinner.
I asked him how Leonard was.
'I killed him.'.
The shock was great. I had known him to be weird, to be mad, to push himself to crazy limits, and to do things that were highly irrational, but all that was limited to himself. He was the only person he hurt in these things. And, then, to kill a creature!
His reason was that it almost made him fight with Katherine.
I was brought back to the present by the blinding lights of the Indian restaurant. Home and warmth were just a minute away.
Very effective story. I wish Leonard did not have to die.
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