by Steve Vernon
“Will you ever see your family again? Your cat family, I mean?”
“Sure! Already met them up in Heaven. They’d been up there long before I got there, though. We had some good little get-togethers…” And when I get back, maybe we should have some more... “But, you know—well, I guess you don’t know yet, you’re so young…What I’m trying to say is, it’s not just blood and mothers that make a family.”
“It isn’t?”
“No! It’s the time you spend together and the things you go through. That all adds to the love that makes a family feel like family.”
“Huh!” he said. “What about your human family? Will you see them again?”
“Absolutely! They’re on their missions—living life—and now I’m on this one, with you. I guess what’s important, kit, is that. You know as low as life gets sometimes, things get better.”
“Really?” said the kitten.
“They really do,” I said.
His eyelids lowered a little. Whether in deep thought or a kitten pre-drowse, I wasn’t sure.
“Will you come down with me later to meet the children?” I said.
“Idunno,” he said, wobbling forward. He lay down and pillowed his head on my paws. “Maybe.”
Children’s footsteps were passing by under our tree. He could sleep on it. He had all of school to decide.
While he slept, I leaned over and finished up the bread, purring to keep us both warm.
13
The school bell had rung minutes ago and many children had passed under our tree, but no sign of JP and his friend. When I wasn’t carefully leaning my nose over the trunk to check for them, I was washing Patch. Sure, most humans fell for kittens his age like brown leaves in autumn, but I didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
“Nygh!” went Patch as I scrubbed his cheek with my tongue. He jumped away. “I’m clean already, OK?”
“No rubbing your chin on the bark,” I said. “Or I’ll have to do it again.”
He let out a pained sigh, flipping his tail against the tree. “Do you think they’ll have food again? Those bugs you caught us didn’t fill me up.”
“I don’t know,” I said. Gina’s lunch box always came home empty after school. I knew because I supervised Marie while she washed it. But children are like cats, every one a little particular. Maybe JP wasn’t a big eater.
“I’m so hungry, I could eat a pine cone.”
The boy smelled almost identical to the other boys, but when I smelled his hint-o-basketball whiff next to her strawberry milkshake-scented hand cream, well, I felt good about the odds. Then I saw the green cap.
“Hsst! It’s them!” And only them. The parade of children hurrying home had thinned out until there were big gaps of silence between the sounds of bike wheels, footsteps, and voices.
JP and his friend came silently to the base of the tree. They both looked up.
“Here, kitty, kitty!”
I waited a dignified stretch of time between their calls and my reaction. In life, I’d only answered to my name when food dish noises were involved, and there was no point in breaking the habit now.
I turned to Patch.
“Ready to meet them?”
He bent his head, trying to see down the trunk. Every whisker was in place and the dark fur on the top of his head was soft and free of dirt and grit.
“You’re sure it’s safe?”
“Trust me. I know humans. These are good ones.”
He gurgled in his throat, sounding unsure. “OK, Gingersnap.”
“Then follow me. Tail first, you’re not a squirrel.” I set my claws into the bark and backed down the trunk. A gray tail tickling the back of my ear assured me Patch was following, even as I watched the ground over my shoulder, coming down tail-end first.
“She brought her kitten!” whispered the girl.
“Um…that’s not a girl cat, Marta.”
“It’s not?”
I hopped off the tree.
“When he was climbing down I saw…”
I stretched quickly on the ground, then turned around to check on Patch’s progress.
“Oh. Oh! Sorry, kitty,” said the girl to me. I gave her a slow blink to tell her, No problem.
Patch stepped onto the sidewalk next to me. He took one look at the children then darted behind me.
“Aww, are you shy, boy? It’s okay.” The girl was doing a good job of talking quiet and not moving so much. The boy set his backpack on the ground and unzipped it. While he poked around in it, his pack rustled, and Patch peeked out to look.
I sniffed. Plastic.
The boy held up a bottle of water. “You got the dish?”
“Oh! Sure. Sorry.” The girl dropped to one knee and pulled out her lunch bag, one that had a picture of a brown robot with big eyes. I wanted to go over and investigate, but when I leaned forward to go, Patch pressed tighter against me.
Unzipping her robot bag, the girl brought out an empty plastic container. She popped the lid off and I smelled old milk and blueberries. Maybe yogurt had been in there, but now JP was unscrewing the lid of the water bottle and pouring some water into the container. He filled it a ways, then they both scooched back, sitting on their bottoms.
“Come on,” I said to Patch. “When’s the last time you drank something? At the dumpster?”
“No! I had a little in a black tube when I came down earlier to use the dirt.”
“From a sprinkler head? That’s not enough. Come on.” I stood and walked towards the water. Since he was still leaning against me, he almost fell flat on his face! But he turned his overbalance into the start of a gallop and beat me to the water. Keeping his eyes on the children, he began to drink. While he did that I sauntered up to the boy.
“Hey, fella.” He patted my head again with a heavy hand and I turned so he’d get my side instead. “This your friend?”
“The patch on his back looks like a saddle,” said the girl. “Giddyap!” She giggled.
Patch froze, throat working as he watched her.
Seeing him, she quieted. “It’s okay,” she crooned. She lowered her palm to his back, but he skittered sideways, looking at me. I purred to reassure him and he stayed still—but out of reach of her hand. Only when she put her hand back in her lap did he return to the water dish.
The boy sighed, scritching my shoulders. Aah.
Then, suddenly, he turned to his pack and began taking everything out. The hot fries package got stuffed in his windbreaker pocket along with his crumpled papers and tissues. He reached over for the girl’s backpack, but she yanked it away, wheels burbling on the sidewalk. Patch startled, splashing water on himself before he tried hiding beneath me.
“What are you doing?” The girl’s teeth flashed a little at the boy.
“If Nikki won’t come to school, she’ll never see the cats.”
I mrred in excitement. Nikki!
“I have to bring them to her.”
The girl’s anger loosened from her face, turning confused.
“Nikki? Who’s Nikki?”
“My sister.” His jaw jutted out.
“Why haven’t you talked about her before?”
“You gonna help, or what?”
“Help you do what? Empty your bag?”
“Yes! It’s the only way. See?”
“So…you want me to carry your stuff in my bag so you can carry the cats to her?” Her nose wrinkled like someone was trying to feed her medicine.
“Your backpack’s on wheels!” He lifted his arm out to her purple bag. “It won’t be any heavier.”
I wanted to sniff her bag, but Patch’s tail was curling beneath him. I better not leave him.
“They’re not mad at you,” I said in his ear.
“Says you,” said the girl back to the boy. Then she looked at me and Patch. “Why won’t your sister come to school?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Th
e girl looked at JP again. “But you think she needs to see the cats.”
“Yes! Like, infinity-needs-to!”
“Whoa. Okay. I’ll take your books and stuff. But no trash.”
“‘Kay, great.”
She unzipped her pack and took whatever he handed her, wedging things into her purple bag. More wrappers got stuffed in his pockets, even his shoes.
When JP’s bag was emptied, he leaned it over to one side and lifted the top so I could see in. I sniffed the entrance. It was dark inside like a little den, and the walls were soft. Being carried in it wouldn’t be fun, but it probably wouldn’t be too bad. If he lived close by, the trip wouldn’t take too long. And at the end of the journey, Patch would be where he needed to go, I was sure of it.
A piece of yellow cheese was lowered in front of my face. I sniffed it. Cheese wasn’t my scene, but when JP set it inside the bag, I appreciated the thought. A little bribe never hurt a cat.
I took a step inside the bag. Patch mewed in alarm.
“You want to go in there?”
“Not really,” I said. “But if it gets us to Nikki…”
Patch wailed. “If?”
“Aww!” said the girl.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” I studied JP’s face again. It was drawn with worry and hope. He reminded me of a starving kitten I’d seen at the shelter once, who looked at things offered to her the same way, as if her entire world depended on the thing in front of her being food.
I stepped all the way inside the bag and kneaded the cloth floor with my claws. “He’ll take care of us,” I said.
Patch mrred, almost an anxious growl.
“JP, you can’t separate him from his son!” said Marta.
“I won’t.”
Carefully, he took the edges of his bag and rotated it so the opening was upright. He went slow, so I never lost my footing. I sat in the bag, looking up at the sky through the open zipper before popping my head up to watch Patch.
“C’mere, kitty kitty,” said JP. He reached under Patch’s arms and began to lift him. Patch’s ears flattened.
“Gingerrrr….”
“It’s all right, stay calm, he’s putting you in here with me…”
Patch moaned, but I thought he had it—until JP lowered him towards me.
The kit screamed. “NO, DON’T SHOVE ME IN THERE! I WON’T GO!” He twisted and in a whiskerflick erupted into a storm of claws.
“OW!” yelled JP. Red lines appeared across his hand.
Patch dropped to the ground and shot up the tree. I hopped out of the bag. The smell of fear-pee stank.
This was a mistake.
“Are you all right?” asked Marta.
“He got me good. Ow-ow-ow!” JP held his hand.
“I have hand sanitizer.” She reached into the front of her purple bag.
I looked at the wound and flinched. Humans didn’t tolerate cats scratching their children. Even if the boy wanted us for Nikki, his mother wouldn’t after seeing that gash.
This was a BIG mistake.
I slunk to the tree while Marta poured nasty-smelling goo on JP’s hand. He hissed in pain.
“I don’t think you should try that again, JP. The little one peed on everything.”
“How else am I supposed to sneak them home to her? Tomorrow’s the last day before winter break and there’s no way Mom’s going to let me come back here alone. She just barely lets me walk home with you!”
“But you can’t put them in a pack!”
“I can’t buy a cage! I haven’t had an allowance since we moved.”
“Maybe…maybe…” She shook her head.
Thunder rumbled above our heads.
“My sister needs those cats.”
He blinked hard and swiped his nose with his sleeve. Our eyes met again.
His sister. Nikki. That’s who Patch is meant to be with.
I slow blinked at him. I’m sorry. Don’t give up.
Rain began pattering down.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” said JP, like he knew I understood what he was saying.
But Patch won’t be ready by then, whispered my fear.
I climbed back up the tree.
Patch was all abristle when I arrived.
“See! He tried to stuff me in something. He’s just like other humans. Cruel!”
Raindrops tapped against the leaves. I replayed what JP had done to Patch in my head. The pickup had been a little awkward—more like how Gina hauled me around when she was unsteady on baby feet—but Damien had taught her later how to support my feet so I felt better getting carried. Children could be taught. But JP hadn’t yanked on him. And he did NOT stuff Patch anywhere.
“You panicked when he lowered you.”
“It was so dark and small.” His voice dropped. “I knew you were in there, but…” He went quiet. “It just…reminded me, you know?” He smushed his face into my chest, and I forgot to be mad at him. I purred until the softness came back into his shoulders and spine. Wasn’t right for a kitten to have such fear, such bad memories. I’d never felt anything that bad, except maybe when it came to visiting the vet. Even just seeing the cage left out made me edgy and cranky, and of course I didn’t like going in it, but I wasn’t scared of it.
“He’s coming back tomorrow,” I said. “It’ll be the last time you get to decide whether or not you go with him.” I beat my tail once on the tree crook. “If you don’t go with him, I don’t know what happens to me.”
“To you?”
“Yeah. My mission is to get you to your human, Nikki. If you refuse…I don’t know. Maybe I get sent back. I don’t want that. I think you’re a good kit, Patch; I hate to think of you scrounging around these trees in the winter without anyone to look out for you.”
The thunder rolled above our heads. Raindrops began pattering down.
“You mean…if I don’t go, I’ll be alone?”
“I’m not sure. I have ’til the Christmas snowfall to get you to your human. Maybe that’s when I’ll get taken back.”
“You keep saying ‘your human’ ‘your human’—how can a human belong to me? They’re like, ten times bigger than me!”
I chuckled. “Oh, you’d be surprised. You can get them so trained, they wouldn’t dare—” I stopped myself, watching his eyes light up with intrigue. “Well, it’s really better for you to see it in action.”
He grumbled, wiggled away.
“And I won’t get to see any of it unless I go with that boy, huh?”
I smiled at him. He sighed, whisking his tail. He didn’t say anything until the tree lights flickered on. He finally looked up from his paws.
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
The rain kept falling.
14
The next morning was just as pale and a little chillier than the one before, but it was dry. This time when the children began filing under our tree, Patch crept to the lower branches to observe. I sat hidden in the crook of the tree. Only Patch could make this choice. I couldn’t be brave for him.
I started to doze. Then—was that strawberry milkshake I smelled?
“Hi, kitties!”
My ears twitched. It was Marta!
“See you after school! We love you!”
“Marta!” said the boy. I grinned without opening my eyes. Marie used that voice on Damien on occasion—usually after he or Gina made a joke about my litter box. “We don’t want anyone to know!”
“That we love them?”
“That they’re up there!”
Scuffle scuffle.
The kit touched his nose to mine. I opened my eyes.
“How can they love me if they don’t know me?” he demanded. “I scratched him!”
I yawned. “Children forgive.”
He sat with that a while. Then he asked: “If I wanted to go with them, what…” He washed his face furiously with a white paw. “
What…will make it easier?”
I studied the branches above me, thinking.
“First, you have to remember that they’re not cats. They don’t think our same way about things. And every human is different. But at the very least, you can’t bite or scratch them.”
“But what if—”
I stopped him with a paw on his chest. “You can’t. When they take you home Indoors, you’ll be family. So you can’t hurt them or your friends. Including dog friends.”
“WHAAT?!”
I nodded. His eyes bugged out.
“Now, if a stranger comes into your house at night, scratch him up good!”
Patch brightened. “Yeah?”
“But everyone else you just keep an eye on.”
“Hmm.”
“I know. But your humans will watch out for you. Especially you, since you’re small and cute. You’ll want to purr a lot and let them pet you.” I rolled over. “Maybe even rub your tummy!”
His ears flashed back. “In their dreams!”
“You don’t have to do everything all at once. But if you want them to be YOUR humans, you’ll have to let them know that you like them, even if you’re not sure about trusting them.”
“Hmm…” He frowned again. “I don’t know.”
CRACK went the sky over our heads. Patch dove under me, trembling. But no rain came.
“If I go to live with humans, will THAT stop happening?” he asked, head whipping about to monitor the whole sky.
“Nope,” I said. “But you’ll have a big warm bed to hide under.”
The wind blew through our fur. Patch shivered.
“OK. I’ll go down.”
The wind let up later, helping us hear the BRIIIING! of the school bell. And though the sky was still gray as the children walked beneath our tree, the sky seemed to be brighter. At last, the main stampede was over, and a familiar voice called up the tree.
