Ten years ago, a small, mostly-black kitten, came into our family. He picked Søren to go home with, out of all possible humans. Søren named him “The Schwa,” an unusual name for an unusual cat; it fit him perfectly.
What is a Schwa? It is the most common sound in the English language–duh…a…the…mother…yup. In the dictionary it is a phonetic symbol represented as inverted e:
/ə/
The Schwa is a hidden sound; it blends into the unstressed syllables of words and unstressed words of sentences. The Schwa has superpowers; it is the unheard and unseen glue of every dialect in the English language. The Schwa sits in plain sight, but nobody sees it. Søren didn’t know all of this, but he had read a book that year called The Schwa Was Here, by Neal Shusterman, and he recognized a schwa, The Schwa, when he saw him, and that is how this particular Schwa came to have his name.
They say his clothes blend into the background, no matter where he stands. They say a lot of things about the Schwa, but one thing’s for sure: no one ever noticed him. Except me. My name is Antsy Bonano-and I was the one who realized the Schwa was “functionally invisible” and used him to make some big bucks. But I was also the one who caused him more grief than a friend should. So if you all just shut up and listen, I’ll tell you everything there is to know about the Schwa, from how he got his name, to what really happened with his mom. I’ll spill everything. Unless, of course, “the Schwa Effect” wipes him out of my brain before I’m done . . .
The Schwa’s invisibility cloak was always a great mystery to us. Sometimes you could see him and sometimes you could not. He appeared to have full control over his visibility, even up to his last hours in the human world when I went searching frantically throughout the house for him, only to find his failing body curled in a corner beneath a potted plant table in plain sight, yet invisible. When we weren’t accidentally sitting on him because we couldn’t see him, we were looking for him.
You might think an invisible cat would be shy. Quite to the contrary. The Schwa was convivial with anybody who could, who would, see him. He was a creature of habit with an elaborate hierarchy of his humans. Søren was his chosen one. Megan was the one he related to the most; she had a comfy bed and nice Pendleton blankets to curl up with. She also had a very cool car that was fun to take for a spin. Ken was his coffee human–the guy who combed him every morning while brewing coffee. Anne was the mistress of his shadow–he often followed her around, unbeknownst to her. Zoë was his unconditional love; she faithfully scooped his litter every day. Harriet and Jig were is furry friends–they made sure that his litter box was clean too, although he didn’t quite understand why they were so concerned.
He was unstressed, a cool cat, and his lack of stress brought calm to our house. Even though he spent a lot of time in an invisible state he was always present, and now he is not.
The Schwa Was Here.
On November 4, 2021 the Schwa passed into a permanent state of invisibility. Wherever you are now, Schwa, I hope you know how much we all loved you. You gave us so much more that we gave you. We will forever carry your memory as a blessing.
Dear Anne,
I’m sure I’ve seen the Schwa several places since his alleged demise. He sleeps at the. bottom of my bed — as usual. I move my feet to give him room.
I am sure I saw him early today, sitting on my walker, impatient to begin the ride,
Yesterday I saw him disguised as your shadow,
Big as life.
He knows a thousand tricks.
I think he may have finally discovered
The hummingbird’s secret to invisible wings.
I’m almost certain he flew right over my head,
Just before dawn.
I think he may have concluded
By choosing just to drift, that
The dark is soft and gentle.