The Ways of Cats

  by

  Garon Whited

  It’s not easy to play second fiddle to a herd of cats.

  David thumped the steering wheel in frustration, teeth clenched as he considered his options.

  Damn and blast it! Why did Dad have to leave everything to Mother? The money, the house—everything! How could he do it? And the money just kept piling up. Mother barely drew enough to live on. Live on, and feed her growing horde of cats!

  David snarled as a cat dashed across the road. He swerved, trying to hit it, but it accelerated and made the curb. He fought the Mercedes back into the proper lane with savage braking, accompanied by the squealing of tires and blaring of horns.

  “It all ends today,” David muttered. “Today.”

  * * *

  The sound of the Metal Thing crunching the gravel outside was loud. The kitten fell over its own feet in its mad dash toward the door. The black-and-white ball of fluff rolled to a halt against one muscled flank of the Great Cat. The green eyes opened and turned to regard 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,” rumbled the Great Cat. “Are 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 a kitten. I wish to see how much of a cat you have become.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Portal to Outside opened wide and their human came in. Many of the other cats approached immediately, rubbing themselves against her legs. She walked with a shuffling gait across the worn carpet, careful not to step on any of them. She was quite a good human; they had kept her for generations uncounted.

  She placed a large sack on a table, speaking in her incomprehensible human language as she did so. 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, which is a challenging prospect at the age between kitten and cat.

  Duties done, the human seated herself on the Human Chair, the only article of furniture devoted to her use—at least, when she was home. 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 she could pronounce. Allowances were made, of course, for their beloved human. She could hardly be expected to understand the ways of cats.

  The Great Cat (called “His Magnificence, Felix the Great”) magnanimously responded to their human’s (his human’s) attempts at cat-speech. 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,” or “Fantastico” in informal speech) 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 desperately, dangling until he could find purchase for his rear claws.

  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. The two together 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, since the irritating noise 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 farther away from the door and the pair of large, gleaming dress shoes. The smell of leather and cologne mingled in a repellent cloud around the intruder. “How have you been feeling?”

  She shut the door behind him and walked slowly 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! It was bad enough they shed on all the furniture, but there would be none of their foolishness, trying to rub it off on him, or sniffing around his ankles, or any other such rot! A swift kick here and there while Mother wasn’t looking taught them who was boss.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied. “How’s 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 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.”

  Babies, David thought. Furry little monsters is more like it.

  “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 scratched at his eardrums with a high-pitched, annoying whine.

  “Mother, I hate to say it, but you can’t go on like this. Not taking your medicine, living by yourself in this huge, drafty old house—It’s not good for you. It’s not safe. 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. It made that annoying sound again.

  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. This will have to be done the hard way. My mother has lost her mind, that’s plain to see, so this really is for her own good…

  “Mother… I really hate to insist, but you need to go to a place where there are people who can take proper care of you. 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.”

  Her face went as white as her hair.

  “You wouldn’t!”

  * * *

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

  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 happened. The Great Cat walked over to him and nuzzled him upright.

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

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

  “Answer me!” snapped the Great Cat. “If you are a kitten, you must stay here. There is Cat Business to be about. The Enemy has taken away our human, and there is serious work to do.”

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

  “I’m a cat,” he said, at last. “Maybe I’m really a kitten, but I need to be a cat.”

  “Make up your mind.”

  “I have. I am a Cat.”

  “We shall see,” rumbled the Great Cat. “Come with me. You must learn how to walk as a cat.”

  “I can walk.”

  “You put your paws down like a cat, but you do not know the secret paths where only cats may tread, the trails in the shadow and the dark. You have much to learn.”

  * * *

  Shady Acres was quite nice. It looked

lovely in every way, exactly like the brochures. Mother had her own room, for one thing. An orderly remained at the front desk at all times, and a nurse was never more than a button-push away. There were entertainment rooms, a library, bingo and other games. Dozens of elderly men and women lived there, assisted by the friendly, helpful staff.

  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, her strength diminished as her sadness grew. Her soul was heavy with grief and with want, and her body began to fail. At last, she they confined her to a bed and the doctors put tubes in her and electrodes on her. She knew she was dying. Her only regret was she would not be able—or permitted—to tell her beloved friends how much she missed them, for she knew in her heart how much they missed her.

  Nor was she incorrect. Down the Paths of Cats, twice a hundred feline bodies still whisked through space, searching for their stolen human. With the eyes of cats, they searched places in shadow and darkness where the spirit quails and misery spreads like spilled blood. Many are the terrible things abroad in the night, and cats see them all.

  In one terrible place, after days of searching, they finally found their human.

  The Great Cat, the eldest of them all, and the kitten—now the youngest Cat—went to her. They entered the dying-place by roads only cats may tread. Together, in the shadows of the night, they leaped upon the bed to look upon their dying human.

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

  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 youngest cat made a mournful sound, soft and tiny in the shadowed room, but the Great Cat breathed in, held that breath, and leaped again into the shadows. That very night, he had mated with a young female. Now, in the space of a single, stolen breath, he had to find her again.

  And he did, for Time itself travels in ways no stranger than the paths of cats in darkness.

  * * *

  The house was very modern, made of brick and glass. It was wide and long, but only one storey. It was the very picture of a pleasant country home at the end of a long driveway. The yard was well-kept by many hands. The driveway was perfect, lined with manicured grasses and sculpted hedges. In back, the pool sparkled in the moonlight, the porch was spotless, and even the woods beyond the property seemed artfully arranged.

  A large doghouse, a canine copy of the human-home, loomed in the silver light. The dog was chained to a heavy stake, rather than the doghouse, giving it free roam of almost all the 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 reach of its chain. It pulled against the chain, 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 his divine ancestress, Bubastis, granted to his line a hundred thousand generations ago. He watched without expression, eyes like yellow-green fire, as all his family crept up silently behind the slavering, straining, growling dog.

  * * *

  David woke in the middle of the night, heart flip-flopping and his face covered in sweat. He sat up in bed, looking around in the utter blackness. What had woken him? A noise? A nightmare? 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! And after all he’d done to make sure she was in the finest rest home! There’s no justice in the world!

  He fumbled at the nightstand and switched on the lamp before stepping into his slippers. Something had woken him, dammit! He belted on his robe, yanking the belt tight in a short, sharp movement, and went to look through the house.

  There! That noise! Some blasted alley-cat, yowling at the moon! He lived out here, away from that sort of thing, but the damned animals almost seemed to follow him.

  Well, there was a way to fix this one.

  He went into the study and took down the old double-barreled skeet gun 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.

  The instant he stepped out into the cool moonlight, the yowling stopped. He moved to the rail, gun half-raised, peering into the black shadows. For long moments, nothing happened, but he waited, patient, sure his prey would make some sign.

  A pair of eyes gleamed, catlike, in the darkness. David raised the gun and he fired at them without thinking. The eyes vanished even as he pulled the trigger. Buckshot peppered leaves, trees, and loam, but nothing else. There was no pained yowl, no wounded cry. David muttered curses as he moved along the edge of the porch, leaning over 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 the same uncanny timing, the eyes vanished 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. They were all over the deck in a solid mass, barring his way to the door. They even covered the angle of the roof, looking down on him. It was a forest of yellow-green lights, shining bright as candles and as cold as the stars. Unblinking. Inhuman.

  Angry.

  A carpet of feline fur unrolled over him. A carpet made of slashing claws and flashing teeth. A wave of predatory instinct and wounded pride engulfed the human, eerie, silent, and cold.

  The human screams were muffled by the fur and finally drowned in it.

  * * *

  The Great Cat nudged the kitten as it opened its eyes. It looked around, blinking at the light for the first time.

  “I… I know this place,” it said.

  “You should, little one,” replied the Great Cat. “You lived here for many generations.”

  “I remember. Yes! I remember! You’re His Magnificence, Felix the Great!”

  “Is that what you called me in Human? How fitting!” the Great Cat said, and twitched his whiskers in pleasure. “But now you must learn our names in Cat. You learned much as our human, but now you must learn to be a cat. It is a great honor we have given you. Do not disappoint us.”

  The little kitten nodded. “I will do my best. Will you teach me?”

  “When I must,” the Great Cat agreed. “Your true teacher will be this one,” he said, indicating a half-grown cat with black and white markings.

  “Fantastico Exploratorium!” exclaimed the kitten. “My, but you’ve grown!”

  “I have been well-fed,” he said, “and you were bigger, once. Now, come! There are fairies in the dust motes we must chase, and any number of interesting passages to explore. We have much to do!”

  “Wait,” said the kitten, and turned to the Great Cat. “Thank you.”

  “It is good to be a cat,” rumbled the Great Cat, and stretched in his square of sunshine.

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  The Ways of Cats

  If you need something more to read, check out my Author Page!

  Garon Whited

  Short Stories:

  An Arabian Night: Nazin’s Dream

  Clockwork

  Dragonhunt

  The Power

  Books:

  Dragonhunters

  LUNA

  Nightlord, Book One: Sunset

  Nightlord, Book Two: Shadows

  Nightlord, Book Three: Orb

  Nightlord, Book Four: Knightfall

 

 

  Garon Whited, The Ways of Cats

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