The Adventures of Caterwaul the Cat

by Damon Plumides

  The queen spoke, surprisingly humbly, “Mr. Prime Minister . . . if that is the correct protocol for addressing such an august personage . . . or rather I should say ‘possumage’ . . . I assure you, I have all the wealth that I will ever need. Though we obviously caught you in the midst of important deliberations, I swear to you that we did not intend to disturb you or anything within this great and noble forest.

  “My business is with the Witch, who is reported to live in these parts. That is the only reason I am here. If you could just point me in the right direction, we will be off and out of your affairs forever. I am sure you don’t want us ‘hanging around’ here any longer than absolutely necessary,” the queen giggled.

  “The Witch, you say? Not rocks nor trees nor water source? Why should I believe you when so many of your kind have lied in the past? Well, there is no way for me to know for certain if you are telling me the truth.”

  Just then a young, female possum in the third row spoke up. “Point of order, Mr. Prime Minister.” The possum’s name was Patience, and she was being considered as a possible future replacement for Pickford, who was her uncle.

  “There is a way of knowing whether or not she speaks true. It is an old method, and granted, one that we don’t like to use today, civilized society and all, but there is a way; and I will volunteer to administer the test, if no one else will.”

  Hushed whispers flew around the clearing through the Parliament’s membership. The test was foolproof, but it was also very dangerous to the possum that performed it.

  Pickford turned to the Parliament of Possums. “Is there anyone else here among the Parliament who would volunteer to perform this procedure?” There was silence. “Patience, very well, you may proceed.”

  Patience came forward and sat on a stump before the queen. “Stick your hand in my pouch. By the trembling of your hand, I will know if you speak the truth. If you are lying to me, I will know this too. And for any deception you will be sent away from here, and neither you nor your men will ever find your way out of the forest. Are we in agreement?”

  “We are agreed,” said the queen.

  Druciah slowly slipped her hand in the possum’s pouch as Patience began to snicker. “That tickles . . . ooh and it’s cold too.” The queen kept her hand in the possum’s pouch for what must have been a full two minutes. She remained completely motionless for the entire time. Patience then indicated to the queen that she could remove her hand, and Druciah withdrew very slowly.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Prime Minister,” said the young possum. “She is being truthful.”

  Prime Minister Pickford swung around on his tree limb and dropped to the ground, where he replaced his niece on the stump before the queen. “Very well,” he said, “we will have a vote. All possums in favor in telling her the way to go, say aye!” When the vote was called, it seemed unanimous. The Parliament agreed to help Druciah on her way.

  “All right miss, this is what you will do. Head west from this clearing until you come to a massive oak, and from there head south towards Bug Stool Creek.” Pickford paused there as if to gather his thoughts before continuing. “But I warn you, and this is extremely important, so you must listen well. When you near the area with the oak tree, you should take special care not to disturb the layout anywhere close to the tree.

  “If you should leave so much as a branch or stone disturbed, you will have a very large and angry turtle to deal with. And when I say large, I do not even begin to properly represent this reptile. This turtle’s head alone is so large it is capable of snapping a man in half with a single bite. When you come near him, you will see what I mean. And while you are there, make sure you pick up your trash.”

  “Thank you, Sir Pickford, for all your help,” said the queen. “We will take your advice to heart.” Then the queen turned to speak with Patience. “I just wanted to say to you, my young possum, that you acted very bravely, especially considering your condition.”

  The Parliament did not know what the queen was talking about. Druciah continued, “When my hand was in your pouch I could feel your babies kicking. I imagine that it will only be a few more days until you will need that pouch for more than just detecting lies. If I were you, I would be expecting at least four or five new family members.”

  The party spent the night feasting with the possums. The next morning, they rose to continue their journey.

  6

  While the Queen’s Away the Cat Will Play

  Queen Druciah was in excessively high spirits while she prepared for her journey to see the Witch. Caterwaul had done his part. The spell was cast, cursing all of the mirrors in Harsizzle. If anyone dared to look into one, they instantly became a cat. Most of the people who owned mirrors smashed them shortly after seeing what was happening to their loved ones. If Druciah had not been en route to the forest, she undoubtedly would have found it all quite hilarious.

  Since he had done what she asked of him, Druciah kept her promise and allowed the cat to stay behind in the castle. She could hardly have done otherwise, as he was unconscious and likely to remain that way for several days at least.

  The queen had been so pleased with him in fact, that her last words to her staff were, “If you need anything done, see Caterwaul. I am leaving him in charge.”

  As she and her party had ridden away, she’d smiled at the sight of all of the new cats that had already taken up residence in her lands.

  If she had given it any real thought whatsoever, Druciah probably would have liked it better had she not added the part about Caterwaul being “in charge,” because once he regained consciousness, Caterwaul took it to heart. The way he looked at things, if he really was in charge, he was going to do things his way. You see, Caterwaul assumed that the queen and her party would fail. He knew what the forest was like, and he assumed that the queen would come running home before she got even fifty yards into the woods. Therefore, if she did not return within two weeks, he would assume it was because she couldn’t and had been killed by some forest peril.

  After two weeks and a couple of days had passed, the cat was sure they were all dead. That meant, or at least he assumed so, that Castle Cathoon was his to do with as he liked. Ever since he had arrived, he’d been dropping hints to the queen about redecorating at least part of the palace. Plus most everyone on staff heard that she had made him her heir. Now it was his chance to go all the way.

  He was sad that the queen had to die for him to get this chance. But such was life. If he had to wager on which of the perils got the travelers, he would have guessed Joffrey. That crazy Joffrey was always a snap-first-and-ask-questions-later kind of turtle. He kind of liked the idea of Warwick Vane Bezel III becoming turtle food, but not his friend, the queen.

  Nevertheless, it was now more than a month since they’d set out, and they were all dead to his mind. To a cat, a month was an eternity. There was no use in wasting valuable time grieving. He had brick masons coming over in the afternoon to build him a nice low bridge overlooking the brand new koi pond he had installed the day before. If there was one thing that Caterwaul really enjoyed, it was popping a big, ugly goldfish in the face with his paw.

  Pretty soon, most of the castle’s residents were also convinced that the queen was dead and that Caterwaul was now the new master of the kingdom. He decided to pull out all the stops in his attempt to remake Cathoon Castle in his image. He assembled the most talented builders, painters, gardeners, and artisans from all of the nearby villages and told them what he wanted them to do.

  First and foremost, he wanted to see color. All that time he had spent with the Witch in her dank forest cavern had nearly driven him insane. Now he was going to take these gray castle walls and lighten them up. That meant warm colors, such as yellows and oranges, and cool ones, such as light blues and purples too, all swirling around on fields of white. Since it was now “his castle,” he thought nothing wrong with any of the major changes he planned to make.

  He hired the most talented glass maste
rs to replace the windows in the great hall with stained glass ones depicting scenes of his “heroic escape” from the forest. There was nothing Caterwaul loved more than to lie on the floor while the sun shone through the windows and onto him. He assumed that having stained glass windows of varied colors would vary the temperature of the rays, and he was right. He especially liked to lie in the sun first thing in the morning. Sometimes he would remain there for hours unmoved. Then he’d stretch a bit and shift positions to allow exposure of every part of his fur to the warmth of the sun.

  The outside of the castle grounds, he had manicured meticulously, and a hedgerow was planted in the form of a maze so that he could get his exercise for the day. He had ramps built, too, so he could run up and down on them, giving him hours and hours of enjoyment. Since he was a cat, he had special catwalks built to his design that spanned the castle both inside and out.

  He replaced the old crystal chandeliers with imported mobiles, which almost always showed depictions of cats from faraway lands. He hoped someday to be able to travel to those places. Some of them made music when the wind blew across them like chimes. Caterwaul loved these best.

  He had giant bird feeders constructed so he could gaze out the window and watch birds. After all, who doesn’t like to stare at birds? he thought. He installed scratching posts in every room of the castle and filled them all with hundreds of cat toys. There was no doubt who was master of the castle now.

  Last, he created an exercise room complete with balance beams, rings, and all sorts of gymnastic equipment. If there was going to be a whole slew of visitors, Caterwaul wanted to be sure they could keep themselves in decent shape.

  The humans working at the castle all knew Caterwaul was in charge, and they did whatever he asked of them. Caterwaul got along well with humans. However, out of the entire castle staff, the one Caterwaul liked most was Orris the chef. He considered Orris to be a friend, and he believed the feeling was mutual.

  Orris often would sit at the koi pond beside his new master, who punched and prodded at the waters. He watched as the black cat swiped at the fish the way a boxer throws out his jab, and every now and then, Caterwaul would hook one of them on his claws.

  If and when this happened, the cat would give the fish to Orris to prepare for an elaborate dinner. It might not be the same as one of the former queen’s feasts, but still it gave Orris the practice he needed. However, this was something that did not happen often. Caterwaul, unlike most felines, liked to practice catch-and-release.

  With every passing day, the castle became more Caterwaul’s creation. He wondered what the queen would have to say if she saw it, then he briefly paused a moment to silently reflect upon his companion.

  Caterwaul thought about what might have happened to Druciah. He missed her terribly. She had been good to him. The thought that she and her entourage might have been killed and eaten by a giant turtle disturbed him. But he was confident that if she were still alive, he certainly would have heard something by now.

  7

  To the Hollow Oak

  After resting a few hours to regain strength, the party followed the possums’ directions until it happened upon an enormous oak that was hollowed out with a huge door on it. The sun was just coming up over the canopy, and the queen and her entourage could see they had entered an unnatural place. Here the forest looked as if someone or something had spent a great deal of time carefully managing the surroundings. With the sun high in the sky, one could see the area around the hollowed-out tree was full of brilliant flowers and bushes, carefully arranged as if done by a professional gardener. The landscape was breathtaking, to say the least.

  Remembering the prime minister’s warning, the queen and her followers tried to slip by it, making very little noise. But they were in a forest, and because of this, no matter how they tried, they were doomed to dislodge something. Suddenly there was a snapping sound. Warwick Vane Bezel III accidentally stepped on a rather large twig, breaking it like a pretzel stick.

  Suddenly the giant door swung open, and a large, enraged turtle leaped at them from the inside of the tree. The turtle was enormous. It was about as long as a man, or longer, with a head which must have been two feet wide at the least.

  As he roared angrily, the queen noted he had a very attractive and multi-colored woolen scarf flowing over his shell and claws, which were carefully manicured and polished to a brilliant shine. His beak sparkled in the light, and he was wearing what appeared to be glitter all over his reptilian face. Then, of course, there was the eye makeup.

  “Don’t any of you touch anything! I have everything just the way I want it!” the turtle shouted at them with a most pronounced lisp. “I need you to just turn around right now, and go back the way you came, or I ssswear, I will sssnap you in half.”

  At this point, the queen, who had been somewhat prepared by Caterwaul for this inevitable encounter, stepped forward. “We apologize if we disturbed, you my good sir. We were sent this way by the Parliament of Possums. As soon as we came near it, we knew this place was obviously the home of a truly cultured soul. Let me again say how sorry we all are if we have disrupted things in any way.”

  The irritable turtle replied, “I find it hard to believe those dreadful possums with no sssense of ssstyle whatsoever would sssend anyone this way, especially when they know that upsetting Joffrey is the worst thing you can possibly do.” The guards looked at each other with bewilderment as if to ask, who is Joffrey?

  “Hello . . . that’s ME . . . I’m Joffrey . . . you imbeciles!” said the turtle, anticipating exactly what they were thinking. “It took me years to get everything in this clearing just the way I want it. You can sssee all the work that went into this area around you, can’t you?

  “The possums know I don’t like uninvited guests. Uninvited guests mess with MY things, and it’s known far and wide throughout the forest that only people with a death wish ever mess with my things.”

  “Again, forgive us, Joffrey. I am Druciah, queen of the land from the edge of this forest to the sea. I seek an audience with the Witch of Red Moon Forest. I do not wish to disturb your beautiful and sophisticated décor. You obviously possess a flair for design second to none in these parts. Tell me friend, have you studied?”

  The glitter on the turtle’s face simulated blushing. “Why no,” he said, “I learned to do this entirely on my own. There aren’t many interior design classes open to turtles.”

  The queen continued her flattery. “Well, I love what you have done to the place, Joffrey. It’s positively yummy. The color schemes are wonderful. They reveal a natural beauty unmatched by any royal decorator I have. If you didn’t live all the way out here, I would employ you at the palace,” the queen said with what appeared to be genuine adoration.

  “Do you really think ssso? How kind of you to sssay. Obviously you have an eye for design at least as ssseasoned as my own.”

  By now any hint of hostility was gone from the turtle, and Joffrey invited the queen to enter his hollowed-out oak tree. “Your majesty, it just so happens that I have a pot of tea on the fire right now, and I would love it if you would join me. We can discuss what it is that you like most about what I have accomplished here. You do realize that I’ve had very little to work with.”

  Despite Warwick Vane Bezel III’s misgivings, the queen accompanied Joffrey into the hollowed-out oak, emerging into a beautiful and cozy great room. She noticed his incredible attention to detail. The room was filled with fine tapestries and colorful window treatments. The hand-carved furniture was brilliant—which is especially impressive considering the hands that had carved the furniture belonged to a giant snapping turtle.

  Joffrey brought the queen some tea.

  She took a sip and acknowledged its quality. “I have a gift for you Joffrey that I think you are going to absolutely love.” The queen walked to the great door and called out, “Guards, bring me the cedar chest!”

  Once it had been moved inside the oak tree, the queen opene
d the chest to reveal two pairs of hand-stitched throw pillows decorated with intricate gold embroidery. The chest also contained some very fine draperies and an array of decorative knick-knacks fit for only the wealthiest households. Also included was a set of the finest bed linens and a down comforter fit for a royal bedchamber. Last, she unrolled a small but intricate hand-woven rug and set it by the front door.

  “Well what do you think?” asked the queen. “If there is anything you find you don’t like, you can always give it to the possums. They did make our meeting today possible after all.”

  Joffrey fell to what Druciah assumed were his knees, but one can never tell with turtles. “Why your majesty, these gifts are sssimply exquisite. What a truly fabulous present this is. Every sssingle item is absolutely gorgeous. You truly have the eye, my queen.” The turtle was grinning and clapping his front turtle paws together. He had never in his life been given such a present as this chest full of goods.

  “Nobody has ever given me anything like this. And to think, I almost bit you and your sssilly henchmen in half.” He was ashamed. “Can you ever forgive me, my queen? You are welcome here anytime. Do you like show tunes?”

  It was the happiest day of Joffrey’s reptilian life. “You sssay you are going to sssee the Witch? Is there anything I can do to make you change your mind? She’s not much fun, and ssshe has a really awful sssense of personal hygiene.

  “And that cave ssshe lives in . . . well, let’s just come out and sssay it: IT’S A CAVE! Really, all that magic at her disposal, and ssshe chooses to live in that filthy, dirty cave of all places . . . and her personal appearance? Not exactly haute couture, if you’ll pardon my French! If I were her, the first thing I’d do would be to conjure up sssome high heels and lots and lots of makeup . . . oh, and a corset to hide that unsightly figure of hers.