The Most Normal of Creatures



I was assigned to advertise for the literary magazine with my classmate one Monday afternoon. She happened to be late and I happened to run into someone we both knew for a similar reason, asking where she was, aware that she was supposed to be advertising with me despite us never discussing the schedule with anyone outside the magazine staff.
*Details will be left out for privacy.
He left and soon after, she showed up. Little Kaitlyn was a thin girl, her blonde hair was the same shade as mine and her glasses and shy voice made her fit the stereotypical bookworm look well. Upon conversation, we realized we knew the guy who was looking for her. A friendship sparked on a common threat, growing our friendship in providing the school with police reports or discussing common interests in submitted pieces.
Here’s where inspiration first struck.
I was more paranoid than usual, which was difficult to happen. Two friends, one who happened to be good friends with the guy and another who was closer to me with no explanation for the grudge she held for him prior. It was a few hours before I was to meet up with Kaitlyn and give our second set of statements. That alone caused anxiety, even more-so with the “crisis” another friend caused.
Theresa texted me a request for some q-tips and paintbrushes with no explanation as to why she wanted them. It wasn’t until she pulled up in her car that I figured it out.
Four baby mice squirmed around inside of her fuzzy, zebra-patterned pajama pants, which she cradled in her lap. She sat in the driver’s seat in her booty shorts and Sydney trying to feed one with a syringe. The q-tips were to clean them and the paintbrushes were to replace a mother mouse’s nipple for nursing.
She drove Syndey with her, helping to provide any reports for or against the person Kaitlyn and I were having problems with. To keep us from getting stressed, all four of us cared for a baby mouse of our own. It wasn’t until later that I found out that mice are, ironically, symbolic to rebirth due to their influence on the plague and association to be a messenger of the dead. Whether Sydney chose a fursona or not, Theresa is certain she’s a wolf.

I met my boyfriend at a furry meeting, having gone to it to talk to friends since I couldn’t get on facebook, less I ran into the person mentioned before. I’m guessed as a cat the most, which is stereotyped to be the most high-maintenance. Likewise, my boyfriend was a fox, known ofr roaming frequently, either literally or romantically. We were complete opposites that happened to click—a guy with dyslexia, obsessed with space travel and my specializing in English. Having similar pasts connected us, regardless of the unusual mix-matches. Upon further research, I found an Aesop fable about a cat and a fox, the fox losing his life to hunting hounds from being too busy to decide which trick to use and the cat saving himself by climbing a tree without thinking.
Spiders, as a common symbol I use as a favorite insect or arachnid, naturally represent fate and time. As one may guess, many things connect directly to foster care, a Rat King of the usual situation of foster youth or even my own family struggling to survive together.


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