Today, it’s about curiosity, but why curiosity? Because last night, as I was reading my book, a sentence stuck in my head, and I couldn’t help but think and rethink and write about it.
But before I reveal this thought‐provoking sentence, I’m just wondering what you think about curiosity? Is it a useful gift or a bad trait?
By the way, the verb wondering is usually used when we are curious about something, right?
Honeslty, until this very moment, I’m wondering— if useful gift and bad trait were measured on a scale, which one would weigh heavier? Surely, the heaviest would be the winning characteristic of curiosity.
Now, bear with me as I investigate the case of Mr. Curiosity—the one who killed Ms. Cat.
‘What an awful, tragic ending!’ A witness, shedding earnest tears, reported the incident to the police officer.
‘I was at the bus stop, waiting for the bus that seemed to never come. Delays, delays, delays— I read while checking the time on the screen. I was exasperated. I had shopping to do, food to cook, and a football game to watch … but hey, Officer, who do you think is going to win the cup—Spain or Portugal?
‘I don’t care—just tell me about the cat?
‘Oh, poor Ms. Cat. She was wandering around before hiding behind that tree.’ The witness pointed to one of the trees.
The officer huffed and puffed, couldn’t wait to jump into his air‐conditioned car, and flew back home.
‘Then, all of a sudden, she ran across the road and joined me at the bus stop—at this exact spot where you’re standing, Officer?
The officer looked down and wiped his face, his patience almost worn out.
‘She did not meow or purr like normal cats. No— she moved quietly and stealthily, sniffing the hard ground and the grass around. I thought she was poorly or hungry and whispered,”I wish I had some some food to give you.”
‘ “you’re so kind, but I’m not hungr,” she replied, Officer. I almost fainted from shock. Cats don’t talk…do they Officer?’
The officer pressed his lips together, wanting so much to slap the man’s face, to wake him from what seemed like a long nightmare.
‘They can, Officer. That poor Ms. Cat told me so, and that’s why I call her Ms. Cat. But then she told me that Mr. Curiosity had sent her on a certain mission. Do you know Mr. Curiosity, Officer?
The officer shook his head.
“Neither do I. But I asked her who he was, and she said he was her best friend. Then, I asked her about the mission— in case it was a conspiracy or something dangerous. Wasn’t it right to ask her, Officer?
The officer gave a slight nod, holding his tongue— didn’t wish to explode.
‘She told me that, weeks ago, a stray dog had been sneaking around her beautiful house. Oh, the poor thing— she lived in a beautiful house with a massive garden and a swimming pool, which she hated so much. But she loved the garden, where she chased birds, squirrels, and butterflies. Do you have a house with a big or small garden, Officer?
The officer inhaled deeply, then exhaled, shaking his head.
‘I wish I had one. Ms. Cat would have invited me to her house if she had lived longer.’ He burst into tears.
The officer’s face was buring, but he turned and paced a few steps back and forth.
‘But then, that beastly dog came in—uninvited— and settled in the garden while her human family was on holiday. He jumped into the pool, made a big mess in her beautiful outdoor wooden house, devoured her food and snackes, and licked up all her milk. They had a big row, but she won, and he ran away. Wasn’t she so brave, Officer? Officer? …Officer? …Officer?
The officer blinked— he couldn’t believe he had dozed off. He nodded, wishing with all his heart that the report was finally done.
‘I asked her why she was looking for that beastly dog after all that had happened. She said her friends had heard that a family had adopted him and that he was living in luxury. She couldn’t believe them, so Mr. Curiosity advised her to investigate. She asked me if I had seen a dog with a golden chain around his neck. I said no. Have you seen any, Officer?
The Officier bit the inside of his lip until he tasted blood, then shook his head.
‘Then, all of a sudden, I saw her eyes widen. Looking so attentive, her body tense and ready, she told me the dog was near and coming closer. I looked around, Officer, but there were no dogs. The only thing I could see was my bus rolling down the road as slow as a slug. But then, I glanced up and saw a car racing madly from far away. As it overtook the bus, I saw a dog inside with a golden chain around his neck. I turned to tell Ms. Cat, but she had already run into the road. I saw her flying through the air before landing with a heavy thud on the hard gravel.’ He burst out wailing.
The officer let out a long sigh— finally, it was all over, and he could go home.
‘Are you going to arrest the dog?’ asked the witness, and the officier nodded.
‘Where are you going to bury Ms. Cat?’
‘But you forgot something— Ms. Cat has six more lives to enjoy. So perhaps you’ll see her again.’
The officer smiled and took the drunk man back to his house.
So, curiosity killed the cat— and the witness’s curiosity stretched the story to what felt like forever for the officer. But thanks to the officer’s lack of curiosity, the story ended just in time.
So, now, it seems that too much curiosity makes you nosy, prying, and meddlesome. None at all, and you become indifferent, apathetic, and ordinary. But a bit of curiosity is acceptable— just like salt in life. Right?
Now, here’s the quote:
“Curiosity is one of the lowest of the human faculties. You will have noticed in daily life that when people are inquisitive, they nearly always have bad memories and are usually stupid at bottom.”
I agree—but only if it’s too much.
With hope and peace,
Nahla
Pure and Simple 