"Cats" by Garon E. Whited

The kitten fell over its own feet as it ran toward the imposing bulk of the Great Cat.  The black-and-white ball of fluff rolled to a halt against one muscled flank and unfolded to right itself.  Great green eyes turned and regarded the kitten.

“What is your hurry?” asked the Great Cat, not stirring from his place in the sunshine.

“Our human is coming home!” the kitten mewed, high-pitched and excited.  “She’s coming home, home, home!”

“Of this I am aware.  But you are old enough to greet her with the dignity that comes with being a cat.  See that you do not shame your ancestors, little one.”

The kitten stared at the Great Cat in wonder.  “I’m not a kitten anymore?”

“You are.  But I wish to see how much of a cat you have become.”

“Yes, sir,” the kitten replied, abashed.

The door opened and the human came in.  Many of the other cats approached immediately, rubbing themselves against her legs.  She was very careful not to step on any of them.  She was quite a good human; they had kept her for generations.

She placed a large sack on a table, murmuring to them as she did.  In short order, she provided fresh food for all of them, cats and kittens alike.  Then she came to the sunny place to pay her respects to the Great Cat.  The kitten, sitting beside him, sat up straighter and watched, trying to look dignified.

The human seated herself on the Human Chair, the only article of furniture devoted solely to her use.  As she did, she gave the ceremonial request to the Great Cat.  Her mastery of the language of cats was rudimentary at best, but what can one expect from a human?  Unable to pronounce their true names, she had given them names that she could pronounce; at least she remembered them.

The Great Cat (called “His Magnificence, Felix the Great”) deigned to respond.  He rose slowly from the square of sunshine and stretched.  It was a grand, impressive stretch, one worthy of the Great Cat, and he yawned around a mouthful of fangs.  Even the wicked barbs of his claws appeared, briefly, as anchorage for his elastic display.

With an easy, graceful leap, he landed on the Lap of Comfort and accepted the Scratching of the Ears with a low rumble.

The kitten (named by the human as “Fantastico Exploratorium”) crouched in preparation for a leap.  He eyed the Lap.  He gauged the distance.  He wiggled his behind thoughtfully.  Then, with all the power of all four legs, hurled himself upward.  His aim was true, but his altitude slightly short; he reached a cloth-covered knee and hung on, slowly clawing his way higher.

The human leaned forward slightly and lifted him into the Lap of Comfort.  The Great Cat sighed in resignation—youth!  Well, he had been a kitten once, long ago…

The chiming of a Visitor sounded, followed by a sharp knocking at the Portal to Outside.  When one or the other occurred, it was usually all right.  But both were a bad sign.  Every ear of every cat turned back and laid flat.  Every light-reflecting eye turned toward the Portal to Outside.  Every claw on every paw flexed experimentally, ready for instant action.

With gentle care and apologetic tones, the human placed both cats on the floor.  The Great Cat accepted her apology immediately; the irritating noise of the Bad Visitor would not stop until she tended to it.  The kitten merely looked puzzled; he had not yet learned what the Bell and the Banging together would mean.

*   *   *

“Oh!  David!  It’s so good to see you.  Do come in.”

“Hello, Mother,” David replied, entering.  Cats all around the room moved further away from the door.  “How have you been feeling?”

She shut the door behind him and walked slowly back toward her chair.  “Not too well, my dear.  Old bones, you know, and this wet weather will see me catch my death of cold.”

David moved to the couch and cats vacated it for him.  They had learned, by God!  None of that fur on his slacks or suit-coat.  It was bad enough that they shed on all the furniture, but there would be none of that foolishness of rubbing it off on him!  A swift kick here and there while Mother wasn’t looking had taught them who was boss.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied.  “How is the nurse working out?”

“She comes by three times a week, but I don’t really want her,” she answered, peevishly.  “She brings all sorts of pills, but you know I don’t trust pills.”

David looked around the room.  “I take it that the maid hasn’t been by in a while?”

“Hated her,” the old woman said.  “Kept trying to clean the furniture.  Didn’t like any of my babies.”

“I see.”  David took a deep breath.  “Mother, I really think you ought to consider moving into Shady Acres.  I don’t like to see you living alone like this.”

“Drivel, son.  I’m not moving into a death-home.  That’s all they are; places for old folks to go and die, away from all the things they ever loved.  Won’t do it, no.  And I’m not alone; I have my fuzzy little babies,” she added, assisting a fuzzy kitten into her lap.  “They’ll look after me.  Won’t you, Fantastico?”

David sighed as the kitten washed its ears and gave off a high-pitched, annoying whine.

“Mother, I hate to say it, but you can’t go on like this.  Not taking your medicine, living in this huge, drafty old house—You need something better.”

“There’s nothing better, my boy.   Nothing at all.  Isn’t that right, my wee little fuzzy?” she asked of the kitten, rubbing noses with it.

Hell and damnation, David thought.  The house was going to ruin as a playground for cats, along with every stick of furniture in the place.  To say nothing of the money wasted on feeding the mob of them.  It would just have to be done the hard way.  The old biddy wouldn’t listen to reason, that was certain.  Her and her damn cats!

“Mother… I really hate to insist, but you need to go to Shady Acres.  It’s for your own good.”

“Nonsense.  I really won’t hear another word about it.”

David pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers.  “Mother, I do insist.”

“I shan’t, and that is my final word on the subject.”

“I thought it might be.”  He drew out a cell phone and made a call.  “Yes, it’s me.  Come on in.”  He hung up and put the phone away.  “Mother, I’ve gone to considerable effort to have papers drawn up.  You’re very old, and you need full-time care.  If you won’t go willingly, I’ll have no choice but to have you removed forcibly.”

Her face went as white as her hair.

“You wouldn’t!”

*   *   *

The Great Cat watched as more men—strangers, but obviously agents of the Bad Visitor—came in through the Portal.  They came in with no care for protocol, scattering brethren as they hurried in, and moved to catch the human.  She wailed and resisted, but they were young and strong and took her away.

The Bad Visitor—now the Enemy—was the last out.  He turned to look at them with the glint of triumph in his dim, human eyes.  He closed the Portal and was gone.

The kitten, having landed roughly, was still shaking his head and wondering what had happened.  The Great Cat walked over to him and nuzzled him upright.

“Tell me now, little one—are you a kitten or a cat?”

“Wh-wh-what?” asked the kitten, looking around.  “Where is our human?  What is happening?”

“Answer me!” snapped the Great Cat.  “If you are a kitten, you must stay here.  There is Cat Business to be about.”

The kitten opened its mouth to reply, but the ethereal glow in the eyes of the Great Cat made him consider his answer.

“I’m a cat,” he said, at last.  “I’d like to be a kitten for a while longer, but… I’m a cat.”

“Then come with me and I will show you how to walk as a cat.”

“Don’t I?”

“You put your paws down like a cat.  But you do not know the paths where only cats may tread.  Follow and learn.”

*   *   *

Shady Acres was quite nice, as far as appearances went.  Mother had her own room, for one thing.  An orderly was at the front desk at all times, and a nurse was just a button-push away.

But she was lonely.  Desperately, terribly lonely.  None of her furry friends were there.  She loved them and wanted to be with them.

Day by day, she grew weaker and more lonely.  Her soul was heavy with grief and with want, and her body began to fail.  At last, she was confined to bed by her weakness, and the doctors put tubes in her and electrodes on her.  She knew that she was dying.  Her only regret was that she would not be able—or permitted—to tell her beloved friends how much she missed them, for she knew they missed her.

Nor was she incorrect.  Down the Paths of the Cat, a hundred feline bodies whisked through space, searching for their stolen human.  And, with the gleaming eyes of cats, they searched until they found.

The Great Cat, the eldest of them all, and the kitten—now the youngest Cat—went to her.  They leaped up on the bed in the dark of the night to see her.

She opened her eyes in the near-darkness.  She could not see the cats themselves, but she did not need to.  She could feel them on her legs, see the gleam of their eyes.

The Great Cat walked up onto her chest and bumped heads with her in greeting.  Tears of happiness leaked from the old woman’s eyes.

She breathed out one last time and grew still.  The Great Cat breathed in her final breath.

*   *   *

The house was large, but not overly so.  It was a nice country home at the end of a long driveway.  The yard was well-kept and surrounded by woods.

The dog was chained to a heavy stake in the back yard.  It was a massive animal, with heavy shoulders, a wide head, and muscular legs.  It snarled as it saw the cat sitting just outside the range of the chain.  It pulled against the chain anyway, clawing at the lawn, trying to drag itself an inch closer, just an inch, to sink teeth into the furry invader.

Fantastico sat quietly, with all the dignity of a thousand generations of cats, watching without expression as all of his family crept up silently behind the wildly-straining dog.

*   *   *

David woke in the middle of the night.  He sat up in bed, looking around in the utter blackness.  What had woken him?  A noise?  It’s not as though his sleep were easy, what with trying to figure a way to bust the old biddy’s ironclad will!  Leaving a giant house and millions of dollars to the care and maintenance of a bunch of cats!  There’s no justice in the world!

He fumbled at the nightstand and switched on the lamp.  He stepped out of bed and into his slippers.  Something had woken him, dammit!  He belted on his robe and went out of the bedroom, looking through the house.

There!  That noise!  Some blasted alley-cat, yowling at the moon!

Well, there was a way to fix that.

He went into the study and took down the old double-barreled shotgun from its pegs.  He loaded it and snapped the breech closed, smiling in a killing glee.  With a brisk stride, he headed for the back door and out onto the porch.  It would do his heart good to turn a few cats into hamburger!

The instant he stepped out into the cool moonlight, the yowling stopped.  He brought the gun up to his shoulder, peering into the darkness, waiting patiently for a sound.

A pair of eyes gleamed, catlike, and he fired at them without thinking.  The eyes vanished just as he pulled the trigger; buckshot peppered leaves, trees, and loam.  David muttered curses as he moved to the edge of the porch, leaning against the rail and waiting for another shot.

Eyes gleamed again, shining as bright as the moon.  He took careful aim, sighting in on them, and slowly squeezed the trigger.  Again, with that uncanny timing, the eyes vanished just as he fired.

“Blast!” he shouted.  He clicked open the breech and the spent shells popped out.  He patted his robe pockets for more shells, but they were still sitting in a drawer in the study.  He turned around, still muttering oaths, to go back into the house.

A sea of gleaming eyes stared at him, filled with lambent flame.  It was a forest of yellow-green lights, shining bright as candles and as cold as the stars.  They had appeared suddenly and soundlessly, barring his way inside.  A hundred cold gazes regarded him.  Unblinking.  Inhuman. 

Angry.

A carpet of feline fur unrolled over him.  A carpet made of slashing claws and flashing teeth.  A screaming, lethal wave of predatory hatred, engulfing the human screams and drowning them.

*   *   *

The Great Cat yowled in the night, writhing with Felicitous Princess.  The cries of mating and of contentment cycled down to pleasured rumblings.

“Are you ready?” the Great Cat asked.

“I am,” answered Felicitous Princess.  “She of all of them was worthy.”

The Great Cat breathed into her face and she drew in the last breath of their human.  She shivered, feeling that breath move through her, burying itself deep within her feline body.

The Great Cat twitched his whiskers, pleased.  In time, they would have their beloved human back—better than before.

After all, what could be better than to be a Cat?