by RB Banfield
Incident Four:
Where There Are Fennel’s Cats
As was common, most of her cats came to welcome her when she opened the front door, but some ignored her. She would be assaulted by a wall of meows. They had done it so much that if she needed to, she could close her eyes and recognise each individual cat voice.
As was also becoming common, two or three parcels would be waiting in her letterbox, and nothing that she had ordered. They were books of all kinds of subjects. Since her love of books was almost as strong as her love of cats, she never returned them. Except for one that was returned, that she didn’t like the look of.
Schnosenschnaft was the main cat. A big black shaggy male Main Coon, he was the largest and had the loudest purr. Fennel tried not to show it to the others, but he was her favourite. The way he liked to snuggle up against her neck always made her laugh. He was eight years old and she had owned him since he was just four months. An aunt of hers, who had since died, bought him for her, and had given him his name. Fennel was not certain how the story went, but she thought that her Aunt had named him after the way he sneezed.
Garbygarby started out as Garby, but Fennel liked to repeat the name, so sometimes he was Garbygarby and other times he was Garbygarbygarby, or even more. He was one of those ordinary-looking house-cats, ginger and a little chubby, but he had a heart of gold and loved everybody who paid him any attention. One trait that did not endear him to Fennel was his habit of chewing paper and cardboard, which usually resulted in him hacking it up later. He was found as a discarded and diseased kitten, and now he was healthy and aged six. Most of her cats had been strays, found by either Fennel or one of her many relatives.
Sparrol was a small female cat, timid and easily startled. The only time she showed life and personality was when she sensed that food was near. Her left ear had been badly torn when she was a kitten and Fennel had always felt sorry for her. She became an unpredictable wild cat when she played. When she chased string, Fennel was not sure if she thought it was actually alive, since she would growl to the others cats. She was four, and given to Fennel by her mother.
Dunk was given to Fennel by her brother and he was also called Slammer. A dark brown cat with big paws, he could make them into fists and hits things hard. When he became excited he could be a little scratchy, and was known to bite the other cats. He had a deep meow and a rumbling purr. He was nine years old.
Webbit was a small white female longhair that reminded Fennel of a bunny. There was something special about her, a kindness not evident in the other cats. She was also mischievous and liked to hide, sometimes in her handbag, and on one occasion she almost went to work with her. She also loved getting in the refrigerator, and one time spent an entire night in there and didn’t seem flustered when Fennel found her the next morning. She came into Fennel’s life after her mother found her one day after arriving home from grocery shopping, where she had managed to hide in one of the shopping bags. She had just celebrated her second birthday, and when Fennel made as much of a fuss over her as she could without upsetting the others cats.
Loop was originally Loopy. An odd Burmese, he lived a crazy life of stunts and near-misses with anything that could kill him, such as cars and trucks. Fennel found him abandoned, and after searching for his owner for a month she gave up and adopted him. He was known to leave his tongue out for a long time after washing, and Fennel would laugh at him every time. Her vet could not say for sure how old he was, and they guessed he was between five and seven.
Zero was usually called Zo-Zo. A small Birman with adorable blue eyes, he had a funny habit of leaping straight up into the air and spinning around, whenever he became startled. He also had problems controlling his bladder, so the two traits did not endear him to anyone. He also loved to roll around on the floor, all of a sudden and for no reason. He was eight.
Nicely was called that because she was a very polite cat, who always waited for all the other cats to eat before she started. When she wanted to do anything, she would give Fennel a short, inquiring meow and then wait for Fennel to answer. Sometimes Fennel would find her staring at the wall like she was deep in thought. Nicely was the oldest, at sixteen, and Fennel was hopeful that she had many years left, since she had never had any health problems.
Lloyd was also called Lo-Lo, and was a female. She could sleep in the strangest places, such as perched on top of the television, and then would never go back there again, and even growl if Fennel picked her up and put her back there. She had a large white patch on the centre of her head, but other than that was black, and had very soft fur. Fennel did not know where she came from. One day she just arrived, and despite having a collar with the name Lloyd, Fennel was unable to find the owner. She was two, and still growing.
Fennel didn’t remember why her feisty tortoiseshell was named Cantup, but since it was the only name the cat responded to, it stuck. Cantup had the softest white fur on her belly, and she enjoyed jumping up on Fennel and getting right up close to her face. Fennel didn’t mind that so much, but now that Cantup was getting older she was also beginning to dribble. The veterinarian was unhappy with her teeth and Fennel dreaded the day when most would need to be pulled out. She was thirteen, but seemed a lot older than Nicely.
Farsol was a female given to Fennel by a girl from the office who moved to another city. A cat with nervous tendencies, Farsol became frightened with any suspicious noise, and was known to wash herself so much that she would leave worn patches in her fur. She was a very messy eater, throwing her food all over the place, like she was trying to kill it first. When she played with string or balls of yarn, she would take it away from the other cats and hide it. She was seven.
Missel was a small black cat who enjoyed getting into cupboards and drawers and staying there for a few days, like he was waiting for Fennel to find him. He had a high-pitched meow and when he became excited would not stop until Fennel gave him a pat. He loved to listen to the walls, like he could hear what was going on outside the house, and would chat to himself about it. Fennel always became nervous whenever he did that. He was five.
Fabblydabbly was also called Fabblydabblywabbly, and was a Cornish Rex. Small and wiry, he constantly patrolled the house, chasing whatever small bugs he could, both imaginary and real. He liked to stand at the window on his hind legs and stay there for a few minutes at a time. He could imitate all the other cats, copying their various meows. Fennel wondered if he did that as a way of being funny, like some kind of strange cat humour. If he did, the other cats just ignored him. He was nine.
Glider was a black and white male who never stopped playing. He liked to leap, usually from the top of her curtains, and try to land on Fennel’s head. He was born without a fully developed front right leg, which made his climbing skills all the more impressive. He had a very unsettled stomach and if any of her cats were likely to throw up their dinner, it was him. At dinner time Fennel tried to watch him as much as she could, but he was so energetic that he would run away, usually to be sick somewhere out of her view. He had just celebrated his fourth birthday, with special fish-flavoured treats, that he immediately threw up.
Woddel was also called Woddy, and she was a Persian mixed with some other breed that Fennel couldn’t identify. She could purr for long periods, even while eating, and loved to wash the other cats as much as herself. She was also fearless, and of all her cats, Fennel considered Woddel to be the toughest. If there was a number two cat to Schnosenschnaft, it was Woddel. Sometimes the two cats would sit together and look at the others with a mixture of disdain and contemplation. Woddel had recently celebrated her tenth birthday, with special fish-flavoured treats. Unlike Glider, she ate them without problem. But because she would never eat all of her food, she left two treats in her bowl, which Glider ate and then threw up.
Fennel led the troop of cats to the kitchen where she had their bowls lined up. It was always difficult when they were all together, since some would race ahead and others would get in her way, and every day she ma
naged to stand on the paw of at least one. Each bowl was a different colour and each had a specific name. Fennel expected the cats to not only eat from their own one, but not touch any of the others. She did not think it to be unusual that the cats obliged. Nor did she notice that both Schnosenschnaft and Woddel made sure that the other cats followed the rules.
As usual, the meowing became a shrill din as she filled each bowl with kibble. Then there was only the sound of eating, with the hint of grateful purr, probably from Woddel. Nicely waited to eat, as she always did, and Fennel gave her a special pat.
Fennel was pleased that she had found a good book from the local library. For the last few months their selection was beginning to look thin, but then the library brought in some new books. One was the exact type of lower-level children’s book that Fennel was looking for. It had nice colourful pictures and big type, and interesting topics about how the world worked. It was also large enough for them all to see. They preferred ones with nice pictures.
After her own meal, that she would never admit looked similar to the cats’, Fennel gathered them around as she sat on the floor of her small lounge. Once all the cats were near, or near enough, she opened the book in front of her. Some cats sat near the edge of the book, some cats sat on her, while a few others just sat back and idly washed but still listened.
“Look, dear cats,” she said as she found a good page, “this one shows an airplane. Airplanes are machines that move very fast, so fast that they can go up into the air and fly. In the clouds they go. You may see them up there, like small birds, but really big machines, flying free.”
She looked to her right, momentarily distracted by what she thought was a growl.
“One of them might be carrying my boss Lawrence Fearnsdale, as he flies into bad weather and crashes. No one survived, the headlines will say. Then they say they should have listened to Mr Fearnsdale and all his warnings.”
She laughed at herself, and both Glider and Nicely looked scared, which made Sparrol and Farsol get spooked, and Dunk try to hit Missel, which made Zero jump up in the air and then run into the kitchen.
“No, I shouldn’t be laughing at the poor man’s fear of planes,” she said after she called them back. “We humans are not meant to fly, dear cats. We are like you, feet on the ground. No wings, nothing for us to fly. Not like birds.”
With that the cats ran for the lounge window, and pushed their way under the curtains to look outside.
“No, dear cats. I was not saying the birds are out there. Of all the words you, know, I wish I never taught you that one.”
She called them back, and eventually they each returned to where they were, ready to continue with their lesson.
“Where were we? Yes, this book is a story is about a boy named Gavin who travels in an airplane. I don’t know why Mr Fearnsdale said that to me. He thinks I should go talking to every man who takes an interest? I barely know Bennet. In fact, I don’t even know if that’s his first or last name. And he’s a little odd, too, like he’s hiding something.”
She didn’t tell them all of what she was thinking, that if a dull man like Fearnsdale thought that Bennet had no personality then he must be really boring. She laughed and pushed the book away so the cats could get closer to her, especially Cantup.
“And here I am,” she giggled, “surrounded by so much cat personality. Who needs humans?”
