I’ve been told it’s not normal for a person to take their Cat on holiday, but Walter is no ordinary Cat, and this is no ordinary holiday. Getting closer to the end of the pier we pass through a gate with a sign above:
WELCOME TO ANTHROPOMORPHIA
Commonly known as Animal Island, changed from “Zoo Island” after the residents voted against it on the grounds that it was offensive which I think is fair enough.
I have forgotten my place. Looking up I breathe in the beauty. They say it takes distance to truly understand the impact of a thing but stood right here, looking over there. I feel it completely. The green and blue and grey. The green and blue so green and blue they make the grey feel necessary as if anything else would feel wrong. The sea collides against the side of this island to remind it it’s there like an old friend you can’t shake and don’t really want to. I see the path ahead is uphill, so I pick Walter up to aid his climb and conserve his energy as he has a big day ahead of him.
At the top of the path I see one, a Cow I think, and I can say for certain that the television does not do them justice. A Cow stood taller than me, though that’s not saying much, on its hind legs which are covered by cargo trousers. She wears a shirt and holds a clipboard. Her stance is more human than mine in many ways. I need to remember they are people too, or are they people? Is “people” an exclusively human term? People don’t have udders.
Walter hasn’t meowed for months and would take no interest if a mouse ran right over his tail. I have heard of a treatment on this island that might help me get to the bottom of it, so I’ve booked us in for a short three night stay in the barn; a twin bedroom of course. I will be disappointed if the tea in the room is anything other than PG tips, that would be something neither of us could handle.
The path is narrow like the island, full of tiny rocks that slide under my feet and crunch with every step. There aren’t many trees on the island which you would think would deny the island of a common grace of nature but that is exactly what this island is not. Once you reach the top of this steep path the flat landscape and lack of trees allows you to view Anthropomorphia in all its Anthropomorphic glory. The heads of Deer, Badgers, Bulls and Foxes bounce in and out of view. They talk to each other in front of the sunset. With the long grass blowing and the village lights burning bright, I couldn’t paint a prettier picture.
My sinuses are soaked in the smells of salt, fish and manure but I would be hesitant to question the seven foot mammal that stands in front of me on the latter. She offers me a kind and stunningly beautiful welcome eye as I walk passed her.
Following the path I walk passed a Chicken with a backbone, a Frog with a stride and a Rabbit with a resting bitch face but nonetheless I feel welcome somehow on this island spoiled by nature.
I arrive at the tavern and before I step a foot in, I turn with Walter who seems nervous, to look at the view as the sun is halfway set and I see them. A couple. A couple of Deer, a stag and a doe sat on a bench a little up the way, hoof in hoof, giggling and sharing a cigarette. The stag passes the doe his cigarette putting it in her mouth, and she smiles at him as though he was all she’d ever need for the rest of her life. I’ve come to the right place.
Walking into the tavern I am greeted by a Bull with a West Country accent.
“Hello there, welcome to the island, what will the two of you be wanting then?” he says brightly.
“Um, I’ll have a Guiness and Walter will have a small milk”, I reply.
“Coming right up.”
We pause and I follow him as he starts pouring the Guiness heavy hoofedly and fetches the milk from the fridge.
“We’ve only oat milk I’m afraid”, he informs me.
“That’ll do.”
“So what brings here?”
“Well it’s good you ask actually because I could actually use your help finding a woman called Mag, I’ve heard she specialises in helping animals find their lost or true potential?”
“Ah, of course, you’ve come to find yourself. They always come to ‘find themselves’.” He jests.
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