by Steve Vernon
“Hi, kitties!”
Patch looked at me.
“You ready?” I asked.
“I don’t want to go in the bag.”
“Then we won’t,” I said. “Just follow my lead.”
He nodded. “Right.”
And then he scrambled down the tree ahead of me!
Maybe this will work!
I followed him.
JP—this time in a brown cap—sat at the bottom of the tree with his pack, while Marta stood, pulling her puffy jacket tight around her. She didn’t have her wheelie bag with her.
“They’re not gonna go in your pack, JP.”
“I know, I ain’t trying that!” JP pulled his lunch bag out of his pack. I sat back as Patch marched right over. JP took out a little plastic bowl and—memories flooded back—a turquoise can of cat food. White Persian on the label. Salmon smell wafted out of the can as he cracked it open. He barely had time to dump it in the bowl before Patch flung his face in to feast.
“Whoa! Slow down there, buddy!” said the boy. He rubbed Patch’s back. Then, reaching into his pack he brought out…
Two leashes.
I winced. I’d heard of a few cats in Heaven who swore by those—said it’d let them guide their humans safely through their Outdoor adventures—but Gina had tried one on me once and it was DEFINITELY not my scene.
While Patch scarfed and gobbled, JP sneaked behind him and tried circling the collar loop around his neck.
But patch noticed.
“HEY!” he shouted. He turned on JP, hissing.
“Don’t bite him!” I said, leaping over.
The boy threw up his hands, leash dangling. He backed up so fast he fell onto his bottom.
“What the heck was that?!” said Patch.
“A leash.”
“What he was trying to do with it?”
“I think he wanted to walk you home.”
“Like a DOG? A DOG SLAVE?”
“Well…” Yeah, kinda.
“No way! No how! Not on my last life!” Patch hopped up and down, spitting in fury.
Marta pulled the boy up. “JP, I’m sorry.”
He swiped his arm across his eyes, but he couldn’t hide his nose, red with crying. Without another look at us, he threw his backpack over his shoulder, leaving the bowl and leashes on the ground. The unzipped flap of his pack bobbed as he hurried away.
“Your sister wouldn’t want a dangerous cat,” my ears caught Marta saying as she ran after him.
“He’s not dangerous!” said the boy.
I looked at Patch. His claws were back in. He stared at the retreating humans with enormous blue eyes. Disbelieving eyes.
“They’re really leaving…” said Patch.
“They don’t know how to bring you home,” I said. You won’t let them, I almost added.
I moaned, hanging my head. He’s just too scared, Lord. What would happen to me? What would happen to him?
The kit glanced at the sky. Then—
Pa-pitta, pa-pitta!
“Wait! Don’t leave without us!” cried Patch. I looked up. He was galloping after the children! I ran to his side. JP hadn’t turned his head, but Marta looked back. When she saw us coming, her face lit up. “JP! He’s following you!”
“Marta…”
“No, look!”
JP’s head started to turn, but he shook himself and stared forward before he caught sight of me and Patch.
“Nuh-uh,” he said.
“JP, I’m not kidding!”
Patch huffed and puffed, springing ahead of me until he was two cats’ lengths behind them. He kept that length between them until they stopped at a tar road with white stripes banded across, like a bridge to the other safe path. When they stopped, Patch stopped. I trotted up next to him and sat while Marta watched.
“They’re RIGHT. THERE.”
JP pretended to look both ways for cars.
Marta grabbed his shoulders and spun him around. “Look, doggone it!”
JP was suddenly very interested in the cloudy sky.
“Hey!” said Patch. “Don’t ignore us!”
JP jolted at the sound of Patch’s mew. Finally, the boy looked down.
“They’re following us?”
Marta rolled her eyes.
JP glanced across the tar road. Then he knelt down again, hand out to Patch. “C’mere!” He took a step forward. Patch took a step back.
JP stepped back towards the striped road. Patch stepped forward again.
JP stepped on one of the stripes. Patch and I stepped forward together. JP sighed.
“All right,” he said. “Have it your way.”
He crossed the road and we followed a few paces behind.
“You gotta keep your ears open when you cross the road,” I told the kit. “Just as much as your eyes. Sometimes it’s easier to hear fast cars coming than to see them. Look both ways, too.”
JP kept turning his head to watch us, bumping into Marta.
“Why do I have to know this stuff if I’m going to be an Indoor cat?”
“Because we’re not where we need to be yet.”
We reached the safe path on the other side. I let Patch set the distance between us and the children the entire walk. We followed them around curving paths and across driveways and even crossed two more striped tar roads. When they stopped in front of a house with a light-up reindeer in the yard, we stopped, too. I gave Patch an approving lick.
“Do you…” started JP. “You’ll have to keep them at your house.”
I trilled in shock. We weren’t taking Patch to Nikki?
“What?” said Marta. “you didn’t say—”
“We live in Mom’s cousin’s RV now. Like, just until Mom gets a job and we move out. But anyway, no pets allowed ’til then. I’ll buy the food!” He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a pawful of little cans. “Here. I’ll get you more tomorrow. You just have to keep them.”
“I think I could hide one cat maybe, but two? And what about Baba? She barks at any cat she sees, how’m I supposed to hide that from Mom?”
Marta had a dog? That milkshake lotion must be masking its scent.
“I saw online how to make a shelter from a plastic tub. Maybe…”
“Omigosh, JP, you are so…so…!”
“What about your shed? It’s for a good cause—it’s Christmas!”
She stuck a finger in his face. If she were a cat, I bet she would have had the claw out.
“You owe me.”
He held out his palms, pushing the air away from him. “I know, I know! And I’ll buy you a box of Snowballs.”
“And kitty litter.”
“Fine!”
“And tell me more about your sister.”
JP paused. “I won’t have to tell you about her. I’ll bring her over to meet the cats.”
Then, so softly I had to prick my ears, “If I can get her to come.”
“What’d you say?” said Marta.
“Nothing. Never mind. You’ll meet my sister. And you’ll like her. I promise.”
Marta gave him a final, wary look before saying a slow, “Okaaay…” and stuffing the cans into her jacket and pants pockets. Patch watched the movement of the cans, whiskers flexing.
When she had our food, Marta patted her leg and said in her kitty croon, “C’mon, kitties!”
I took a few steps toward her, but stopped. Patch wasn’t following, but watching JP, who hadn’t moved. I swirled around.
“Patch, over here,” I said.
The kit kept his eyes on the boy. “I thought you said I was supposed to go to his sister.”
JP took a step away and Patch took one to match it, towards JP, away from Marta.
“We’re taking a detour,” I said.
Patch’s lip pooched out. “For an angel, you sure don’t know much!”
You’re telling me!
&n
bsp; “It’ll be okay. Marta’s good people.” I beckoned with my tail. He still didn’t move. “Do I have to carry you like a milk-kneader?”
At last, Patch came over. Marta awwed at him through her mitten, then went up the driveway. Turning back to make sure we were following, she unlocked the gate leading to her backyard. I nudged Patch ahead, then looked over my shoulder at JP. He was walking away down the safe path. But before he went down the hill and out of sight, he looked back and our eyes met for a flash. He turned away quickly and hurried off.
“Kitty-kitty!” Marta called from the backyard. I waited one more second, hoping for a glimpse of JP’s green hat—a glimpse I thought might bring understanding—or at least a hint that I was doing the right thing, that me and Patch really were at the right place. But JP was gone.
I turned around and followed Marta.
15
Instead of a hard gray floor, the shed was lined with dull tongue-colored carpet that puffed dust into your face when you walked on it. It left a sight feel of grit under my claws. The walls couldn’t be seen because big plastic boxes had been stuffed in instead, on the floors and up on shelves, all except for the back corner, which was bare except for the carpet. I sniffed the perimeter of this bare space alongside Patch. Cinnamon potpourri. Just like Marie’s boxes of Christmas. They’d been full of plastic pine scarves and blinky lights.
Above the bare corner, a little window illuminated the dusty carpet with a square of light from outside. I spotted the edges of blinky lights at the window corners, but they weren’t on yet.
It wasn’t exactly cozy in here, but the walls, carpet and plastic bins kept the wind from whistling through our pelts.
Patch sneezed. A biff of dust shot into the air.
“Sorry, kitty, I don’t think I can get a vacuum back here without Mom seeing,” said Marta. She wedged a tub labeled EASTER in front of the bare corner, blocking it from view, but still allowing a gap so we could come and go.
She let go of it and stood back, huffing and puffing. “Guess you guys can use Baba’s old drinking bowl…and I think she’s got an extra food dish, too…”
Patch worked at tucking his paws under him, loafing in the center of the cleared space. Marta smiled at him before she bent and petted my head. Ahh.
“Be right back,” she said.
The shed door closed behind her with a creeeak, rattling in the gust of wind.
“How you doing, kit?”
“Sooooft,” he said.
Within seconds, he was snoring, his head bowed towards the carpet. I shook off the dust from my back paws and circled our mini territory again.
Kit can’t live like this. It’s not even a whole room to himself. How long will he have to be here? My tail curled and uncurled. Christmas would be here in just a few nights. He might be able to meet his human by then, but that wouldn’t be the same as becoming a part of her family.
Creeeak.
I jumped. Patch startled awake, but didn’t unloaf. The wind took a breath and in the silence I thought I heard a dog baying.
“Hi, kitties,” said Marta. Arms full, she used her foot to scooch the Easter box aside. In the back corner she set a shallow cardboard box of shredded paper, like from Damien’s office. She touched Patch’s nose, earning her a dirty look, but thankfully no scratches.
“You potty here,” she said, tapping her finger in the shredded paper box. “JP’s gotta get you real litter but I hope this’ll work for the night.” I sniffed the pictures of tomatoes on the side of the makeshift litterbox while she set a huge bowl of water down. She tapped a fresh can of food into a giant dish next to it and Patch slunk directly to it. If it had been a dog’s dish, I couldn’t smell the scent on it; it must have been a while before it was last used.
“Hey, leave some for him. C’mon!” She gently picked him up. Patch squealed in protest.
“Hush, hush!” she said to him. “Time to eat,” she said to me.
It smelled good, but I really wasn’t hungry. I sniffed it to be polite, then climbed into her lap, purring. She released Patch to eat while she cuddled me, cooing the whole time. It relaxed me so that I almost missed what she said before she left us.
“Baba potties in the backyard later. She might bark, but don’t be scared, she can’t get in. You boys just stay quiet.”
She pulled the Easter box back into place, then set some roly-poly looking black trash bags on top of it, building a taller wall around our space. A human would have to come back here and peek past the Easter box to see us.
“I’ll see you in the morning after Mom goes to work. Love you, kitties.”
I gave her a slow blink. Patch gave a last lick of his food and then went to the center of the carpet to loaf.
Hm. Maybe he hadn’t listened to those tips I gave him as well as I thought he had.
The sky darkened. The blinky lights outside came on, pouring cozy orange, pink, and green light into our nest in the shed. Patch used the strange litterbox without a problem. After he settled back in, I joined him, loafing close so our bodies pressed together, sharing warmth.
I looked down at the blaze on my chest. The miracle stripe had disappeared. Must have happened when I rescued him from the car.
Which meant I had one more miracle left. But I couldn’t figure out how to use it.
The wind had faded. Now the constant barking of a dog floated in the air, continuing even after a human shushed it. I trained my half-lidded gaze on the food and water dish. Baba’s things.
Patch grumbled in his sleep, kneading my side.
Well, Lord, we’re not where we’re supposed to be, but I suppose we’re closer than we were yesterday.
I laid my head on my paws and fell asleep.
My ears perked at Marta and JP’s muffled whispers outside the shed.
Click click. Creeeak.
I peeled open an eye. Whoa. Still dark out. But my angel clock inside me told me it was one day closer to Christmas. I stretched.
“Whuz?” said Patch, next to me. He swiped his face with his paw.
Human footsteps approached us on the carpet. JP removed the trash bags and Marta slid the Easter box over. They worked together to empty the paper litter tray, and JP poured fresh sand in from a green bag.
“All right!” said Patch, trotting over to see.
“Is your sister coming today?”
“No,” said JP, petting Patch’s rump. The kit glanced back at him, but after a look from me, ignored the boy, sniffing the clean litter.
“Good,” said Marta, scooping me into her lap.
“What?!” said JP.
“You don’t have to look like that.”
“I’m not looking like anything!”
“Yes you are. Anyway, I want to meet your sister, duh, but I think first I better introduce Baba O’Reilly to the cats. She barked her head off all last night at them. I had to lie and tell my parents it was because of the wind.”
“She doesn’t bark at the wind?”
“Not really, but this isn’t the first time she’s gone crazy for no reason. We think she’s part bloodhound, smelling stuff we can’t.” She touched her face. “She’s old but she’s still got a nose.”
“You think it’s safe? For them to meet, I mean?”
“I’ll keep her on her leash, but I want you to help with the cats. Make sure they don’t run out the door.”
“Right now?” asked JP.
“No—later. When she gets back from the groomer’s. Mom’ll drop her off here before she goes to work. If you’re quiet you can just stay in the shed until she leaves again. You could play with the kitties so they’re more used to you.”
That sounds like a great idea.
I hopped out of Marta’s lap and put a paw on JP’s leg. The silly boy had worn shorts today, but his leg was warmer than I thought it’d be.
“You want me to stay and play, boy?” He scratched behind my ears. I purred and smiled up at him.
“OK,”
he said to Marta. “I’ll stay.”
“Great. Mom’ll be back in ten. Then I’ll bring Baba out to you.”
Marta crawled out our secret corner, replaced the Easter box, then the garbage sacks.
Creeeak, went the shed door, and we were left with JP in the shed.
He pulled a crinkly mouse out of his pocket. Patch froze, the leg he’d been grooming still in the air.
“Ha! See the mousie?” JP made it crinkle again.
Patch stalked over.
“It’s fuzzy like a mouse,” he said after batting it, “but it’s not a mouse.”
“It’s a toy,” I said. I picked it up by its tail and Patch came over to sniff it again.
“Do you eat it?”
“I wouldn’t. No meat in it. Just white fuzz that sticks to your tongue.”
I dropped it. Patch batted at it once, twice, double-cleaning-paw-THWAP! Then he grabbed it up, rolled onto his belly and went to town on it using his back paws. JP was grinning.
“Aw, man, this is great!” said Patch. “We got all the food, a place to stay out of the cold, and a soft floor.”
JP tried to pet Patch while the kit walked by, but the little fink slunk his spine under so when JP’s hand came down, he didn’t feel any of Patch’s soft fur. Patch wedged himself between a couple of tubs, where JP couldn’t reach him, toy mouse still in his mouth.
“Patch!”
“Whumf?”
“You’re supposed to let humans pet you.”
He let the mouse toy drop onto the carpet. “Like, more than once?”
“Absolutely! You want your humans to belong to you, right?”
Patch screwed up his face, appraising JP. “I…guess.”
“Then you have to get used to them petting you. Here, watch.” I walked between Patch and JP, brushing the boy’s leg with my tail. Then I flopped over on my side. The boy took the bait and began rubbing my tummy. A little hard, so I stuck a soft foot up to push his hand away. He began petting my side instead. Patch came out of his hidey spot to watch.
“If you really don’t like how someone’s petting you—if they don’t stop when you give ’em a signal—you can give ’em a little smack,” I said. “Some cats will tell you to bite them. But it’s easier to just roll over or turn around. See?”
