Cat Tales Issue #3

by Steve Vernon

  “Look! A cat!” he said.

  “Are you sure?” said a girl. “It could have been a Christmas decoration. They put teddy bears or something on one by my house.”

  “No, there was a cat. Here, I’ll show you!”

  I heard a backpack thud like it had been dropped, and some scrabbling at the base of the tree.

  “I think that tree’s too big to climb, JP. WAY too big.”

  “Yeah.” I heard a sigh, and then I thought I heard his shoe clunk the trunk. “Wish I could, though.”

  The voice‌—‌JP‌—‌faded as he walked away. I peeped out, then ducked again when I saw him looking back. He held my eye for a second, then joined his chattering friends down the road.

  The sun was going down. It was time for a nap of my own. I climbed back down the trunk to my kit. I peeled off the trunk as quietly as I could, thinking he’d still be asleep. Instead, he was a shock of fur glued in place, his eyes wide and fearful.

  My tail jittered. “What’s wrong?”

  “Was that a human?” he asked, trying not to move his mouth.

  “Sure,” I said. “What’s wrong with humans?”

  “My mother told me to stay away from them.”

  “She did?” A hazy memory rose in the back of my head, of my mother gathering us kittens around, but too much time had been kicked up over her words, burying them.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Humans will drown you. Or throw rocks that hurt. And they ride those big roaring things that can kill you! Or they’ll take you away from your territory and you’ll never come back!”

  I wrinkled my whiskers. I’d heard some of the sadder ways cats made it to the Rainbow Bridge, and I could remember racing away from a noisy human more than once in my lifetime. And there were the cars. But I’d also met generations of pampered cats, raised or rescued by humans after a tough life Outdoors.

  “Have any of those bad things ever happened to you?” I asked carefully.

  His tail wagged. “Once. I was looking for some food by this human thing‌—‌it had boxes that slid out of the main box‌…‌” His ears flapped, looking unhappy.

  Like a sock drawer, maybe. “Go on.”

  “Anyway, some little humans stuffed me in the box and shut me up. It really hurt! I couldn’t breathe!” He was trembling again, so I went to his side and groomed him.

  When he was calmer, I asked, “How did you make it out?”

  He lowered his ears. “One of them pulled the box out a little to peep at me. I scratched him in the face as hard as I could, then ran away.” He bared his fangs. “I don’t like humans. Let’s leave this tree tonight.”

  I looked around. Night was almost here. I didn’t want to travel in a territory I didn’t know in the dark.

  “We can’t,” I said.

  “What?!” he sharpened his claws. “Why not?”

  “Because we’re supposed to be here,” I heard myself say. “And because you’re meant to be more than an alley cat.” The words coming out of my mouth were news to me! But as I said them I knew they were the truth. “A human needs your help.”

  “A human!” He clawed the bark again. “Get somebody else to do it!”

  “But‌…‌” I faltered. “But that’s why I’m down here! You have to join up with this human.”

  “Sure‌—‌a little kit like me would be a perfect toy for some human to pull on‌…‌or chase‌…‌or throw!”

  “Not all humans are like that,” I said. “I grew up an alley cat, like you,” I said. “And one day, humans did take me from my territory.”

  He sat up, tail straight. “They did?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I went into a place they call a ‘shelter.’ A shelter is Indoors. Have you ever been Indoors before?”

  He shook his head.

  “Well, Indoors is different. But hard to explain. Anyway, I lived in a cage for a while. See, I was lots older than you when I was taken away. Most humans like to raise cats from when they’re kittens. But not all. My Damien‌—‌” I shook my head. “When I saw him I knew he was my human. He didn’t know it, though, ’til I grabbed him passing by on the way out.” I held out my paw, fingers open, claws spread. My claws had snagged on his black sweater and our eyes had met. In them I saw what my heart already knew: we would make a great team, he and I. Then he had to have me.

  “Then what happened?”

  “He made pen marks on some papers, and then he took me home. I lived Indoors from then on, but I was never cold, always fed and‌…‌” My tail looped, trying to word this right “‌…‌I got to be a part of a family again.”

  “But‌…‌they’re‌…‌so different!”

  “Well, yeah. They have their own ways. But they’re funny sometimes‌—‌like how they trip on things in the dark‌—‌”

  “They DO that? But‌…‌can’t they see?”

  I chuckled. “Nope! They’ve got night blindness, compared to you and me. And have you ever seen one jump?”

  “No.”

  I guffawed. “When they jump, they barely clear the floor. It’s like this‌—‌” I did a pathetic hop, barely a paw’s-width off the ground. Patch rolled on this back, mute with laughter.

  “But they’re not just funny, Patch. They take care of you. They rub the itchy spot right between your shoulders whenever you need it. They brush you so you don’t cough up so many hairballs. And they talk to you in a special voice, so you never feel lonely. They’re not perfect, but they can be‌…‌they can become a part of you.”

  He hid his face in his tail. “Hm‌…‌”

  “So can we stay in this tree tonight?” I asked.

  “You promise humans won’t come take us in the night?”

  “I promise. Besides”‌—‌I waved my tail at the darkened sky‌—‌“they can’t see in the dark, remember?”

  Just then, lights wrapped around the tree trunk flickered on, BLINK!

  We both jumped, and then the kitten glared at me.

  “Heh,” I said, grinning. “Christmas lights.”

  He laid his chin on his paws. “I’m still not helping no human,” he said.

  What a wrinkle!

  “It’s your choice,” I said, and licked his head once more. I stayed up a while after the kit started snoring. I looked into the lights and prayed. If this kit has to live with humans, Lord, he has to get over his fear of them. Your birthday will be here soon. Please help me get Patch ready. Amen.

  I wrapped my tail around my nose and fell asleep.

  12

  The next morning was as gray as Patch’s tail and the wind cut through my pelt. Snow weather. I remembered it from my alley cat life on Earth. But it wouldn’t snow until Christmas. I had ’til then to get Patch to his human.

  “Eegh.” Patch shivered next to me. “I’ve never been this cold before.”

  I looked him over. Short-haired‌—‌less than a year old. Not close to full grown yet. This definitely was his first winter.

  “If you learn to live with humans,” I said, “you’ll never be this cold again.”

  His teeth chattered. “Really?”

  I nodded. But then he frowned. “But I’ll never go Outdoors again, will I?” His hackles bristled.

  “No,” I said. “But cars‌—‌those roaring monsters‌—‌don’t come Indoors. Ever.” Garages didn’t count. They were too cold.

  The mice-chatter of human children drifted upwards to our branch. Patch crouched low, ears following the footsteps below us.

  Hmm. Talking isn’t working.

  “Hey, Patch. You hungry?”

  The frown slipped off his face and he nodded eagerly.

  “Watch this.”

  I made my way to a lower branch and waggled my head, trying to see better. It was that boy in the green cap walking alongside a girl in a pink puffy jacket. The girl pulled a purple bag on wheels that rumbled against the ground. No one else was around them. I began clim
bing down the trunk.

  “What are you doing?!” Patch whispered.

  “Stay there. Just watch.” I said, and then I dropped down in front of the boy. I heard one last panicked Nngle! from the kit, then blocked him out as the boy and girl gasped in delight.

  “You were right!” said the girl. Her eyes were bright through pink glasses.

  “Toldja!” The boy knelt. “Heya, girl,” he said to me.

  It wasn’t the first time a human had called me a girl. Heck, every time Gina brought home new friends at least one did it. I figured the mistake had something to do with their funny-shaped human noses, unable to fathom my proud tom scent‌—‌but that was just guessing.

  The boy began scratching me behind the ears. A little hard, but I didn’t smell dog on his hands. Maybe he didn’t have pets. I turned to the side and he rubbed the length of my back instead. I purred.

  “Aww,” said the girl. She fumbled off a mitten‌—‌strawberry-milkshake scent puffed into the air, lotion, maybe?‌—‌and pulled a colorful rectangle out of her backpack pocket. While I studied the pink and white stars on it, it went click.

  “Your parents let you have a phone?” asked the boy, still petting me.

  “Only for emergencies,” she said. She looked into her rectangle. “Aww. So cute.”

  The boy bit his lip. “Can you send it to me?”

  “Sure!” said the girl. The rectangle made clicks as she poked it with her finger. I took a step towards the boy, giving him a good sniff over. No, no dogs or fancy rats or other cats. Clean. Had a faint smell of another place on him, though I couldn’t say where‌…‌I hopped my front paws on his shoulder (which got a delighted giggle out of him) so I could get a better whiff of his backpack. Papers‌…‌old candy‌…‌pencil wood‌…‌

  Tweet-tweet! Went the girl’s phone. “Sent it. Aww, she likes you.”

  “The whiskers tickle!” said the boy.

  ‌…‌then the smell of bread hit me. Aha. Found it.

  I pawed at the zipper on the boy’s bag. “What’s in your lunch?” I asked.

  The girl clapped her hands. “Aw, listen to him talk! Mao-mao!” She echoed at me.

  “Naaw, you don’t want to come to school with me, girl,” said the boy. He tried moving my paws but I moved away, butting my head into his hands.

  “She likes you, JP!” said the girl. “And wants something in your backpack,” she said as I raked my soft paws over the zipper, pretending to dig. The boy gently elbowed me aside, then pulled the zipper apart. I stuck my face in, sniffing around his binders and crinkled green hot fries wrappers.

  Aha! There it was! I reached my paw in.

  “What’s she want?” asked the girl.

  JP, the boy, pulled out the thing I was touching. It was another bag, blue and soft, with lumpy-looking yellow characters on it. I pawed its yellow zipper, looked at him, and gave my saddest mew.

  “Awww!” said the girl.

  The boy’s voice turned soft. “You hungry, girl?”

  I mewed again.

  He unzipped the bag.

  Score. Now I could smell tuna and mayonnaise with the bread. Just the thing for a growing kit. Purring, I plunged my head into his lunch bag and snatched the sandwich out, baggie and all. The baggie was sticky and bland in my mouth. I only had it by a corner; the rest dangled almost to the tops of my paws. I looked at them both. She was grinning behind her hands and he was trying not to laugh.

  I sat down, still watching him. His mouth went up in a smile, and his eyes crinkled, but for a second I saw something different behind them. I couldn’t tell if it was pain or hope.

  He took the bottom end of the baggie with one hand. I let it go. The whole thing flopped over in his hand. I reached out with my paw and touched his hand. It was a little cold from the sunless day. Sometimes you needed somebody to do things for you, things you couldn’t do yourself. I didn’t know if he knew this. He was new to cats. Maybe he’d just pack up the sandwich and leave.

  I looked up into his face again. My whiskers twitched as something passed between us.

  You’re on the right track. It sounded like someone whispering right in my ear. But before I could see who it was, the baggie was crinkling. I watched as the boy opened the sandwich. One sandwich turned into two breads, one topped chock full of tuna and mayonnaise and other good smells. The other bread had a green leaf on it, and a pale glaze of mayonnaise.

  He folded the bread with the leaf in one hand so it turned into a half-sandwich. The tuna bread he offered to me.

  “Here you go, girl,” he said. I sniffed it over one last time, grabbed the side with my mouth, then turned and jumped up the tree. The tuna bread went with me.

  “Whoa!” said the kit, skittering over his feet in surprise. I set the bread before him and he began snorfling it down. Footsteps pattered towards the base of the tree. I peered down the trunk. The children looked back up at me, mouths agape.

  “She’s not eating it!” said the girl.

  “Someone is‌—‌you can hear it!” said the boy. “Wonder if she has a kitten.” He said this with a puzzled frown, taking off his cap and running his hand through his sandy hair.

  “You can have some of my lunch,” said the girl. “Just not my Ding Dong.”

  He turned to her, face bright with a grin. “We’ll see about that!”

  I leaned back into the tree.

  Zip, went his backpack. Then: “See you after school! Bye, kitty!”

  While their footsteps went away, the kit stared at me. He had only licked the tuna off the top of the bread, leaving it bare.

  “Was he talking to YOU?” he said.

  “Sounded like it.”

  Patch sat back on his haunches and was quiet for a while.

  In the meantime, I groomed the fur on my back smooth again. The boy’s hands had left a not-unfamiliar hint of basketball rubber in my fur.

  “Huh,” the kit finally said.

  “Were you watching?” I said.

  “Yeah. Boy, he petted you rough!”

  “At first some of them do. I don’t think he’s been raised with animals, by the smell of him. But you see he didn’t pull on me. Or yell.”

  “No,” the kit admitted, with only one suspicious flop of his tail. “Do you think he’ll really come back?”

  “He said he’d be back after school. Want to meet him then?”

  “No!” He flattened his ears. Then: “He called you a girl.”

  “Well, someone will correct him later. Besides, it’s not like it’s a BAD thing to be called. How was the tuna?” I tilted my head at the bread.

  “Tuna?” He licked his lips with a little purr. “Is that what that was?”

  “Mmhmm. Humans buy it by the case. And this boy was happy to share.”

  “Yeah, but‌…‌How do you know this is my human?”

  “It’s not.”

  His fur puffed. “So I could be going to someone really mean!”

  You’re on the right track.

  “No. I mean, it’s a possibility. But I don’t think so.”

  “But you don’t know-know.”

  He’d set his lip in a frown. The hollows between his ribs showed when he breathed. That half-sandwich had been a feast. He hadn’t been on Earth for a dozen weeks, but already he had the cynicism and doubt of an alley oldster. Things were hard down here. I’d forgotten.

  “You angel cats must get fed and groomed lots by humans to love them, but some of us just have to get by. Why should I trust them? Humans took my mom away.”

  “What?” I said. “You didn’t mention that!”

  He nodded. “She went off to hunt and left us alone. When she didn’t come back, I looked for her. A human was taking her away in a cage, putting her in a monster-car-thing-whatever. I wanted to go to her, but she told me to stay.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Then it was just me and my brothers and sisters,” he whispered. He looked at me. “Why would they do that? Why did human
s take my mother?”

  “They might not have known. Humans don’t know everything.”

  His tail waved off my words. “We stayed together as long as we could, but there wasn’t any territory that could feed us all. I haven’t seen them since.” Patch bowed his head.

  I went to his side. He butted his head into my blaze. “How can anything be all right again?”

  His warm breath sniffled into my soft fur. I wrapped my tail around him in the cold morning. It took me a while to sort through my thoughts.

  “I’ve felt like that before,” I said. “Before I was an angel, I was a pet cat, and before I was a pet cat, I was an alley cat, and before I was an alley cat, I was an alley kit, like you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. And I’ve felt like you’re feeling when I was each of these things.”

  He lifted his head, eyes full of confusion. “Yeah?”

  I nodded. “My mother wasn’t taken away. But, like all mother cats, she left us. And that wasn’t so bad, but when my siblings went off their own ways, that hurt. Even though I knew it was coming, knew it was the regular way of cats, it hurt. I stuck with my brother Russet for as long as he’d let me, but one night, he snuck off after a queen and never came back. I was left behind. And it hurt.

  “And when I was picked up by humans‌—‌in a cage and put in a big dark car, like your mother‌—‌wow.” My hind claws dug into the wood at the memory. “It felt like the world had broken apart under my feet. I was scared for a while that they were going to hurt me. But they didn’t. Instead they just‌…‌kept me in the cage. Oh, no one was ever mean to me, and I got fed‌—‌but for a long time, nothing changed. That was scary too, but in a different way. I sat looking through the bars of my cage, watching humans walk away with a kitten in a cage‌—‌I was older by then‌—‌and I wondered if I’d ever get picked, and how long I’d live in the shelter if I never did.”

  “Then you got your family. D-d‌…‌”

  “Damien. And his mate Marie, and their little baby, Gina, who could only talk and walk a little when I came into the picture. Those were happy times‌—‌and sometimes boring ones!” I chuckled. “But boring can be good, too. But at the end, I got real sick. I was an old cat! It was the way of things. But I hurt and I wanted to die, so I could feel better. But I knew if I died, I wouldn’t be with my humans anymore. And I thought, ‘how can anything be all right again?’ And‌…‌well‌…‌you see me now.” I lifted my tail. He batted at it with his paw. “I’m a healthy angel on Earth, and helping kits like you!”