by Lisa Martin
Jangly music and salty, fatty smells floated to Cecil as he drew near the grassy area surrounding the big tent in the twilight of the day. He crept along the perimeter, cautious and alert, his tail twitching. Humans inside the tent clapped and laughed at whatever it was they were watching, and shadows flickered on the white canvas, ripped in a few places so that the lantern light spilled out. Cecil rounded a corner and an entirely different set of smells filled his nose—the musk and bedding of caged animals. The field was edged by a stretch of weedy track upon which stood a line of battered train carriages with open, barred sides, some of them empty but others containing creatures Cecil could not immediately identify. He stared, his ears swiveling to listen to the chatter.
“When are they going to feed us?” called one deep voice to a neighboring carriage. “I’m hungry.”
“Soon, I hope,” replied a second voice. “Though I don’t look forward to that wilted lettuce.”
“Stifling hot today, wasn’t it?” squeaked a third, high-pitched and warbling.
“And humid, yes,” answered a fourth in a soft hiss. “Plus, I seem to be sharing my cage with a whole host of spiders.”
Kitty said the animals perform in shows for the humans, thought Cecil. I wonder what they do in there? He peered up at the giant tent. The pointed spires at the top were lopsided, the canvas worn and frayed at the edges. From inside, the raucous music twanged with off-notes. Cecil turned and spotted a large pile of garbage behind a cluster of smaller tents, beside which a few hunched humans milled about. He imagined the puppies, confused and frightened, stashed here somewhere.
As he gazed across the field in the dusky evening air, Cecil noticed a movement in the carriage nearest to him, the last on the track. Something inside was pacing sinuously back and forth from end to end in the confined space. The creature was huge, yet lithe, never pausing, its paws making no sound at all on the floor of the cage. None of the others spoke to it, nor it to them.
Cecil took a few steps into the field, angling around to get a better look at the shadowy animal. He stifled a gasp—it was a massive cat, as big as a small horse but not horse-like in its shape. The cat’s muscled shoulders rolled as it stalked, its wide, round head held low as if tracking prey. Anton and Cecil had encountered the Great Cat, an enormous feline, in the mountains on their train trip into the setting sun, but this one was even bigger. Cecil ventured a little closer, gawking. Like the Great Cat, this big cat had curiously curved ears, he noticed, but instead of a golden brown coat, this one was covered in bright jagged stripes that seemed to ripple as it moved. Cecil was entranced.
Very slowly, the huge cat’s head began to rise as it paced. Its muzzle alone was bigger than Cecil’s whole head, and it sniffed the air delicately. Finally it stopped moving and turned to Cecil, its eyes glowing in the last light of the day, unblinking. Cecil froze, all of his fur standing on end, his mouth hanging open. He couldn’t speak a word, could not look away from the black-rimmed, golden eyes. The creature’s wide, pink tongue appeared and swiped swiftly across its mouth.
At that moment, a sharp voice piped up close behind Cecil.
“Ah, might I have a word?” said the voice.
Cecil jumped and broke eye contact with the huge cat. A skinny animal about his size crouched nearby, beckoning him away. He felt a small paw on his back leg, pulling.
“How about you come away from there right now?” implored the slight animal. “Come with me, friend, and stay alive.”
Cecil allowed himself to be tugged backward as he glanced once more at the carriage. The big cat stood watching him from the shadows, its tail curling and uncurling. A wiry arm slipped across Cecil’s shoulders and guided him back around the corner, out of view of the train cars. In the lamplight leaking from inside the tent, Cecil finally sat down and took a good look at his companion.
Standing on two legs before him was a wisp of a figure covered in brown and black fur, with large side ears and close-set round eyes. Its head was round, too, and at the ends of its long arms were elongated paws that ended in leathery, almost human fingers. The whole creature resembled a tiny, furry human, except for its wiry, flicking tail.
The figure extended a paw toward Cecil. “Happy to meet you,” he said, grinning. “I am Sergio, humble spider monkey originally from Costa Rica, now serving as official ambassador of the circus. I welcome you!” He grasped Cecil’s paw and bowed deeply.
Cecil stared in wonder, trying to remember his manners. “Um, I’m Cecil, a common alley cat from a land far away, and I’m currently lost.” He looked down at Sergio’s paw clasped around his. “You have hands!”
“That I do,” said Sergio, wiggling his fingers in the air. “And they come in pretty handy, I can assure you.” He glanced behind him and lowered his voice. “Now, Cecil, I must caution you about the tiger back there.”
“That huge, striped cat, you mean?” Cecil shivered. “What a creature!”
Sergio nodded gravely. “Tasha—that’s her name. She is a Siberian tigress. Do not mess with her, Cecil.” He wagged one long finger in front of the cat’s nose. “She has a very bad temper, and it can be hazardous to your health. I have seen some approach the cage right up to the bars, drawn in by her eyes.” He winced, pointing to his own eyes with two fingers. “It’s not safe! So stay back, all right? Are we agreed?”
“Agreed,” said Cecil, a little reluctantly. He’d felt a wild spirit in the tigress, a raw energy that he wanted to know more about. But there were other things to do first. “I’m actually here looking for a bunch of puppies—little white dogs—that were stolen from the Fair. Have you seen any like that?”
Sergio folded his skinny arms and squinted at Cecil. “Little white dogs. Well, we have several of those who do an act in the show, of course. The dancing dogs. Stolen dogs—now that is a very different thing entirely.” He frowned, stroking the hair on his chin. “Business is not good, but I do not believe the owners of the circus would go as far as stealing.”
Cecil blinked at the monkey. Maybe Sergio knew that the puppies were stolen or maybe he didn’t. Better to be careful. “Well, I’d like to meet them if you could point me in the right direction,” he said carefully. “I’m a big fan of dogs,” he added, putting on a goofy grin, as a cat who admired dogs would surely wear.
Sergio turned and pointed to the group of smaller tents bunched together like a tiny town in the field beyond the train carriages. “They are taught to dance in the smallest tent, in the back by the large tree.” He whirled and clasped his paw-hands together. “And now, Cecil, I really must go. I am assistant master of ceremonies for the show and have many duties to perform inside.” He jerked a stubby thumb toward the main tent beside them.
“I thought you were the ambassador,” said Cecil.
“That too! There aren’t enough humans, so I wear many hats!” The monkey scampered away, calling over his shoulder as he went. “Enjoy yourself. And keep away from the tigress!”
Charting a path as far as possible from the tigress’s cage, Cecil trotted over to the little tent city. He could feel Tasha’s luminous eyes on him, but he dared not look her way. Humans wearing bright, tight-fitting clothes moved between the tents carrying loads of equipment, eating food from paper wrappers, and smearing their faces with colorful paints. Cecil ducked between and around them until he arrived at the last, smallest tent. He stood to one side and peered in through the open flap.
Sure enough, there were six small white dogs inside, and Cecil could hear the voices of two men shouting at each other. Cecil didn’t know what types the dogs were, and they all looked slightly different from one another, but they were similar enough to Camille to give him hope. He backed up and crouched in the shadows, outside the reach of the lantern light, wondering if he was in the right place.
Suddenly, one of the men yelled something and stormed out of the tent. Cecil caught a glimpse of his face as he rushed by—it was the green cap man! So these must be the stolen puppies, he thought. Now hi
s mission changed from tracking to rescue, and he pondered his options. It would be tricky to get past the human, for starters. And the dogs were enclosed in a mesh cage of some kind, with no obvious, easy latch. Even if he could get them out of this tent, what then? He didn’t know the way to the Fair from here. He and the dogs would be lost once they left the circus, and they certainly couldn’t return the way Cecil had come. He would have to return later, talk to the pups, and make a plan.
Cecil slinked away, his belly twisting with worry. What kind of plan could he possibly make? He was lost in this strange city, separated from his brother, talking to monkeys and trying to rescue dogs. How had it come to this? The only thing he knew how to do was to retrace his steps to the lake and wait for the ferry, which Kitty said might take him to the right train toward home. But he could not go without Anton.
He slipped across the field, avoiding the hustling humans, lost in his thoughts. Ducking under the line of train carriages, Cecil realized that the tigress cage sat silent and very close by. He trotted quickly across the grass. As he passed, Tasha stepped to the bars.
“You’re a cat,” she said quietly.
Cecil stopped in his tracks. Her low voice rumbled through Cecil’s bones. It was commanding. Worldly. She had not asked a question, but he answered anyway. “Yes. I’m a cat.” He glanced at her, against Sergio’s advice. A bright moon rose behind the tigress and Cecil could see her hulking silhouette, her long tail gracefully snaking side to side.
“So you would understand,” Tasha continued. “Come closer, little cat.” Her eyes gleamed in the glow from the big tent, two yellow jewels set in the black shadows, and they were fixed on Cecil.
Cecil’s paws moved on their own, veering toward the cage as if pulled by a powerful force. “My name is Cecil,” he said, “and I would understand what?” he asked. Not too close! he told himself.
Tasha gazed down at him from between the bars but didn’t answer. “Why did you go to the small tents?” she asked, tipping her great head in that direction.
Her voice was like tall grass blowing in a warm wind. She was regal and mysterious. Cecil would, he realized, tell her anything. “I was . . .” he stammered. “I’m trying to rescue the puppies. They were stolen from their families.”
“Stolen?” Tasha’s bright eyes swept the circus grounds. “I suppose most of us were, one way or another. Though many are glad, I admit. But you choose to help the dogs in particular. Why?”
Cecil hesitated. “It’s a long story. I’m helping a friend solve a crime.”
Tasha turned and sat on her haunches, her chin held high. “You are noble to try, but humans cause too many problems for us to solve.” She sighed, a sound like a brook running in the springtime. “Even so, I wish I could at least rescue myself.”
Cecil drew still closer to the carriage, gaining courage. “You do?” He thought again briefly of Sergio’s warning and realized he was within swiping distance if the tigress wanted to slash through the bars, but Tasha seemed more lonely than dangerous.
“All cats are wild, as you must know.” She caught Cecil’s eye and lowered her voice. “I need to be out of this place. Free, like you.”
Cecil gulped. How could he possess anything that this majestic tigress wished for? “Where would you go?” he asked.
“The forest,” she answered quickly, turning away to gaze through the other side of her barred carriage, where a wide swath of dense trees, stretching to the horizon along the water’s edge, was darkly visible in the moonlight. “There was a bear here a few months ago, a grizzly. His name was Oscar, the biggest bear I’ve ever met. He came from a deep woods, and he said if I could get to the lake and follow it north it would take about two days to get up there. It’s vast, he said. No humans go there, and it’s full of squirrels and rabbits and deer. Running streams, and birds everywhere. Cold and snowy, like my homeland. It’s paradise.”
“But surely the humans would try to find you,” Cecil pointed out.
Tasha tossed her majestic head. “I could smell them long before they would ever see me. Oscar thought I could make it up there, and I’m sure I could. And once there . . .” She turned back to Cecil and her eyes glowed like suns. “. . . I could disappear,” she whispered.
Cecil looked at the tigress and his heart beat madly in his chest. So far, I haven’t saved the puppies, and I’m barely taking care of myself. Can I help a gigantic tiger gain her freedom? No chance. But he nodded to Tasha. He knew exactly how she felt. “Do you get out of this cage very often?” he asked, peering up at the rusty iron bars, the chains and the latches.
“Only when I do my act in the big tent,” she replied. “I go in there each day just before the sun sets. They call it the ‘mane ivent,’ whatever that means.”
“The mane ivent,” Cecil repeated. “I’ll try to watch tomorrow if I can get in.” He wondered what Tasha did in her act, what any of them did. “I’ve only met the monkey so far, and he told me you have a terrible temper,” he ventured.
Tasha lay down in her cage, her enormous paws stretched out in front of her. “I have no time for Sergio’s monkey business. He is bossy, a busybody. Sometimes I think he is more human than monkey. He is afraid of me. Everyone is.”
“I’m not,” Cecil blurted, wondering if he was foolish not to be. “Maybe Sergio thinks you’ll eat him,” he said, trying to lighten the mood with a joke.
Tasha purred with what sounded like a low chuckle. “The thought has crossed my mind,” she said.
The moon rose into the dark sky as the music and chatter from the tent finally slowed and then stopped. People streamed away, the animals were watered and bedded, and the lanterns were put out. The circus turned quiet, save for the occasional whinny or squawk. And Cecil, alone even among so many creatures, curled up and slept where he felt most safe, in a patch of grass right underneath the cage of the great tigress.
The morning brought renewed commotion to the circus grounds as the strangely dressed workers hurried in all directions. Cecil scrounged a meal from the leavings strewn about and talked with a few of the other animals. He particularly noticed the humans who stood waiting outside the gate. Cecil was just as determined as they were to get inside the big tent. In the late morning he discovered a gap between two of the big tent stakes that was deep enough for him to squeeze underneath, and he found himself in a different world.
It was a giant, round room with a peaked ceiling so high he could barely see to the top. Dusty light filtered down from a circle of window-like openings in the canvas walls. Humans filled the stands and milled around on the ground, their shoes crunching across sawdust and stale peanut shells. Cecil flattened his ears at the thunderous noise of the boisterous people, the blaring music, and a shouting man with a tall black hat who stood in the middle of a large ring, waving his arms. Peering down the aisle, Cecil gaped at four white horses, all with sparkly feathers wrapped around their foreheads, rearing up on their hind legs, prancing and pawing the air together.
As Cecil crept around the perimeter of the room, a slender, quick-moving figure whizzed by.
“Sergio!” Cecil called after the monkey.
Sergio turned and smiled, revealing a row of straight white teeth. “Cecil, my friend! So glad to see you again. What do you think?” He swung his long arm around at the chaotic scene. “Isn’t it fantastic?”
But Cecil was still staring at the monkey. “You’re wearing clothes?” he cried in amazement. Sergio had on a little red jacket, streaked with dirt, and a matching hat that looked like a human drinking cup turned upside down, held on his head by a string under his chin.
Sergio smoothed the front of his jacket with his paw-hands. “Of course I am! It is part of my job. I work with the ringmaster”—he gestured toward the man in the ring—“and together we entertain the people.” A bell rang in a far corner of the tent, and Sergio jumped. “Ah, I must go. The cockatoo is ill today, and I’m to fetch fresh seeds for her. Enjoy the show, Cecil!” And he vanished into the thr
ong.
At that moment Cecil heard a familiar voice behind him and turned to see Aclown, the crazily dressed lady from the ferry landing, laughing with a small group of children. Cecil was astounded to watch a clutch of flowers pop into her hand, seemingly from nowhere. Aclown sent the children off and waved to an approaching human who held the bridles of two of the white horses. Turning to the tent wall, Aclown grasped a metal hook and pulled it out of a loop set in the wall. She stepped aside, pulling the tent fabric with her, and a doorway opened up for the human and horses to walk through. When they’d gone, Aclown pulled the fabric door closed and reset the hook into the loop.
While Aclown moved away into the crowd, Cecil sat staring at the latch in the wall. So it’s another way in, he thought. Or out. He crept under the stands and watched a different act, this one featuring a woman riding a cantering pony while standing upright on its back. The woman performed jumping flips in the air, managing to land on the pony each time. The way she rode reminded Cecil of what Anton had told him about the Menagerie. And that got him thinking about distractions.
Cecil carefully observed every part of the performance stage—the curtain hanging behind, the poles, ladders and ropes strung above, the low barrier forming a huge ring around the outside—and gradually the beginnings of a plan came together in his mind. A daring plan. An outrageous plan.
In the afternoon he found Sergio again, and asked for his help. It was a big request, but Sergio was the only creature with the paws to make it work.
Sergio was aghast. “Do not ask me to do such a thing. Think of what it would mean for the circus.”
But Cecil pressed him. “Think of what it would mean for Tasha. Not everyone is like you, Sergio. Some of us want a different life. This place is not good for her.”
