Catfantastic II

"Shame on you, Puff, upsetting Merlin."

The door swings wide. Borne out to see his two-legs, oh, very well, his human, Merlin flicks a sly, triumphant glance at me.

I follow him out. Once again, Merlin's she is talking, with salt water ru

"Merlin!" she calls. "There's my good cat."

The two-legs shut the door upon them. She, too, smelled unhappy. Fenster, who shares the foodbowls with me, trots up and paws at her knees. The two-legs swoops her up and holds her like a human kitten, seeking comfort. Fenster, the slut, purrs.

"Kitty!" squalls a two-legs kitten. I flee beneath a table and shut my eyes. Over and over the bells ring. There are a lot of critical cats coming in tonight, a lot of two-legs-well, enough-people speaking in soft, nervous voices.

"I didn't want to come out, but what could I do when Samantha was so sick?"

"We're picking up Dook. He was just fixed."

"They had cops patrolling Seventy-first. It's good to see cops on the beat again."

"I hope they catch that…"

The people growl in anger and in hope.

I lick the last traces of bitter water from my mangled ruff and wait.

The light beneath the door grows, waking me from my nap. One of the sisters carries Merlin, who protests separation from his human, back to the i

Their feelings hurt. Merlin's human fears and aches; Dr. Bell wants only to escape to the i

"I know you're on the cat's side," says Merlin's human. "So am I. I want him back, of course I do. But I want what's best for him. You're the doctor. What you say to do, I'll do." Her eyes fill, but her voice is quite steady.

Dr. Bell flicks an eyebrow up in surprised respect at this pampered-looking female. "We're trying our best. It's not leukemia or feline AIDS. It could be his spleen or his liver. We just don't know yet. But I have to say, it doesn't look too good."

The human looks down. "I know," she whispers. She makes the hand and voice gestures of respect that two-legs use. "Thank you, Doctor," she says and turns to go.

"You might wait a minute till you calm down," Dr. Bell suggests. "So you can watch out on the way home. God only knows what's out there."

Which is why I like it here, her undervoice tells me clearly. I cure pain. And the cats I work with are decent; they don't turn on their own kind.

Merlin's human nods thanks. She draws a deep breath and forces calm upon her face the way we lower our inmost eyelids when we gaze into the sun.

"Who's this?" she asks.

To my surprise, it is me she is talking about this time. I stroll out from beneath the table to let her admire me.

"That's Puff. He was Merlin's donor this morning."

The next instant, Merlin's human is down on her knees before me. She is quick in her movements, and her hand gestures are graceful, almost like paws. "Oh, the brave cat, good cat. But look, his ruff is shaved, and it was so pretty," she croons at me. She glances up at the one called Dr. Bell. "Puffs a hero-cat."

If she keeps that up, I think I may have a hairball, just to teach her. I raise a forepaw to clean it and ignore her outstretched hands.

"Puff's a little standoffish tonight."

"Is he all right? Did you take a lot of blood from him?"

Dr. Bell nods. "A good bit. He was scared."

"Poor Puff. Thank you, Puff. Tell me," again, she appeals to the other two-legs. "May I bring Puff treats when I come tomorrow? Whatever happens, I'm grateful to him."

Still talking, she Wraps heavy clothes about her and vanishes into the night beyond the lights where the critical cats and the noisy kittens of both breeds wait.

If I had come to her, she might have felt better. What is that to me? She is just another noisy two-legs. Still, there had been that promise of treats…

I head for the inmost lairs. Merlin lies upon the sunshine pad. He is breathing too fast, but purring as he breathes. I paw the cage lock open and come in beside him, nuzzling his side. His eyes blink open, lazy, satisfied. Seeing his human has eased him; he seems stronger and happier. I am angry at myself that I care.

"She groomed me; we don't like it when my fur is matted. She praised me and sang my name. Said I was a good cat and whatever I did was fine. I wish I were going home; I could run it to suit myself now. Such a good human." He shuts his eyes, musing on what would have appeared to be the most delightful of Dreamtrails, but what I know has to be that idiot human of his.

"Did you see Her?" he asks eagerly.

"I saw her," I admit. "She thanked me and would have stroked my back. But I was washing. Tell me, does she keep her word? She promised me food for helping you."

"That sounds like her," Merlin says, pleased. "She'll bring you treats. And she understands what we Free Folk like-tender beef in tiny cans; fat salmon and cream and things you can steal off plates."

If he keeps it up, I think again that I will have a hairball, and never mind the respect due to Soulsingers.

"You have made me strong for now, my brother," he praises me. "She will be afraid without me."

"Why is she afraid?" I hate to ask it, but my curiosity stretches and leaps. "She is sleek and well." Not like you, I think. "And she is old enough to be as wise as a female who has raised many litters."

Merlin shrugs, a ripple of massive shoulders on which the fur already has begun to wilt. "Humans fear more than we… pain, voices, fights. Even the pieces of paper that they carry scare them. My human more than most."

He looks up. For a moment, the pain he has suppressed this evening twists his face and drives the wisdom from his eyes. It is not just body pain. "If she conquers her fears, she will be a Soulsinger, too. That is a hard choice for humans, who do not respect the soul art as we do. She fears, but I know she wants to slay her fear. I do not want to leave her till she does. I do not think I could hunt in peace if I left her now."

The moment passes, and his eyes are deep and bright again as the autumn moon. "She will go to ground tonight, just like we do when we hurt. But she should not be left alone. Tonight, I shall watch her dreams. You shall help me, if you will. Have you never stalked a human's thoughts? I promise, my brother, you will find this an interesting game."

Once the two-legs turn down the lights and leave, we huddle together and hunt down the trail of Merlin's human's thoughts. She dodges in and out of the crowd of two-legs, watchful of the huge, foul-smelling things that honk and screech and have two-legs in them playing mating calls. She looks carefully away from the kittens trundled in their carriers by cautious two-legs.

Merlin was all the child I had, the thought lingers like rain in her thoughts. Not was, is. But for how long? Her eyes keep blurring. At that her fear nips her more shrewdly, like a rat. It is not safe to walk the streets with blurring eyes. It has not been a good year, she thinks. Faces shift and go… some clearly remembered; some blurred by years longer than the lifespan of Free Folk.