Notes: Once again, I take liberties
with the video/musical at some points in the story. Betaed by Nefer, any
remaining faults are mine...
Disclaimer: all characters belong to ALW,
TSE and the RUG; Cassie is mine * smile * and must not be used without my
express permission (triskell@xpoint.at).
Thanx.
Dedicated, as a little thank you, to S.
for always being there.
My name is Rum Tum Tugger and this is the story of my life.
It’s not all that easy to tell, but I will do my best.
Most cats don’t
know it, but my mother is - was - Grizabella. She caught Old D’s sight and he
forsook his mate for a brief fling. I don’t know what happened between her and
Cassie, my Dad’s mate of ten years after that. The first recollection I have is
of my mother’s eyes. She looked at me and licked my ears. I was warm within her
paws and content.
When Grizabella left, I was barely three weeks old. She
deserted me for the glitter and glamour of a world I knew nothing of. She didn’t
even say goodbye. I just woke one morning, alone and cold. I stumbled out of the
pipe we had lived in, and saw Jennyanydots and Jellylorum.
Old D was with
them and I meowed to get their attention. Both queens turned away and my father
came to me. He told me my Mummy was gone. I didn’t understand…until a day later.
I overheard Jenny telling Jelly all about my parentage.
That my mother
had thrown herself at Old D, that I was a by-product of a scandalous liaison and
that Everlasting Cat only knew if Cassie would ever forgive her mate for such a
thing - especially since her last litter had died - except for one of the
toms.
I have many half-siblings, but only one true brother. Munkustrap
and I are bound by the ties of blood through our father, Old D. We are the last
sons he fathered, the last of his children. When Cassie died, he said he’d had
his fill and wanted no other.
What I never understood is how Cassie could
not only forgive him for siring me after a while, but how she could accept me as
if I were her own son. After Grizabella left, Cassie took me in, fostering me,
protecting me…she was my source of unconditional love.
Her son,
Munkustrap, was a week older than me and he would have had as much cause to hate
me as his mother. I was very much conscious of my place in the community. I
might have been only a little kitten but those cats that I had seen with my
mother at one time or another sneered at me when we met, looked down upon me -
and it hurt.
It was on a cold morning that I woke shivering and went in
search of Old D, hoping to get warm by cuddling up to him. No one, not even he,
had at this time bothered to take me in. I still slept in the pipe I had shared
with my mother…alone.
I didn’t know then that my existence was, to most
of the tribe, still a mystery. That the loss of Cassie’s litter had been the
only source of gossip lately and Grizabella’s leaving was as yet unconnected to
Old D - or her kitten.
I wasn’t all that secure on my feet, but I managed
to crawl to the boot of the car where I had seen my father sit pretty often. But
he wasn’t there, so I meowed, very quietly, hoping he’d hear me.
“Who’re
you?”
A little grey tabby appeared in front of me out of nowhere,
followed by a grey-white striped queen, obviously his mother, by the way she
pulled him towards her to protect him from the chill.
“I…don’t have a
name,” I admitted, in a small voice and added, by way of explanation, “Daddy
said Mummy was gone and she only called me her little one.”
Had I been
able to read a cat’s facial expressions, or understood that it was pain that
flashed across the queen’s eyes, I might have felt worse than I already did -
but at that moment Old D appeared. He looked at me, then at the queen. The
little tabby suddenly whispered, “Is that him?”
“Come on in, kitty,” was
all she said to me.
“Cassie…”
“Don’t! We’ll talk about this in a
few days, Deuteronomy.”
And the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in
my head - I had just thrown myself at the mercy of the one queen who had been
most hurt by my birth… I would have run away, but someone pushed against me from
behind and I stumbled in front of Cassie.
She smiled and nudged me gently
onto a thick blanket - it was red, I think - and the tabby jumped up beside me
and, after a glance at his mother, offered me his paw, “I’m Munkustrap.”
“Seems like we’ll have to find a nice name for you, kitty,” Cassie said
as she curled up around the two of us. I wanted to say something, but tears were
welling up in my eyes, so I buried my face into the rough blanket and hid from
them.
I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I remember was a
flurry of grey in front of my eyes and a paw that shook me gently, if
clumsily.
“Hey, lazybones! Wake up! Time for breakfast!”
I thought
how dreadful water tasted for a moment, since that was all I had had since my
mother had left me - but when I would have gone in search of the pail filled
with raindrops I had drunk from lately, Munkustrap grabbed my tail and pulled me
back towards his mother,
“She’s got enough milk for both of us,” he
whispered into my ear.
Cassie put her paw on my head then and smiled,
ruffling my fur, “Go ahead, you two, we don’t have all day.”
It turned
out that we were meeting with Old D that morning. I was nervous, for I had no
idea what was to become of me. I soon found out.
“I have decided to
raise the kitten.”
“You don’t have to, Cassie, though I…”
“Don’t
say anything, Deuteronomy. I’m not doing this for you - it’s not his fault you
and his mother had a fling - nor is it his fault that she left. And in case you
think I’m doing this to spite you - I’m not. All I ask of you in return is that
you don’t mention who his mother is.”
Had I known that this was the only
thing that would enable me to fit without questioning into a tribe that was
shocked and annoyed at my mother’s leaving, I would have been even more
surprised and grateful than I already was.
Turning to me, Cassie
continued, “I know it won’t be easy, kitty, but do you think you can accept me
as your mother?”
I only nodded, unable to speak, but Munkustrap jumped
up and cried, “I got a brother now, right?”
“Yes, you do, dear…”
“I thought…that is, Cassie, if you agree, we could name him Rum Tum
Tugger. It was…”
“…his mother’s choice?” Cassie’s voice was
cold.
Old D nodded. I thought I’d be thrown out now, since my origin had
come up again and Munkustrap’s eyes were wary all of a sudden, fixed on his
father, our father.
“It might have been better if she had stayed long
enough to give it to him herself,” the queen said sternly, “but I suppose, since
we can’t do anything about that…”
So I was given my name and came to
stay with Cassie and Munkustrap. Everyone thought I was one of Cassie’s last
litter. And those that knew who I really was never spoke of it again.
I
remember the next few months only as a happy time that passed like a flash. I
was playing, laughing and I was warm, as warm as I had been in my mother’s arms,
every night. It took another month or so before Old D moved in with us again,
and I wondered that Munkustrap never commented on it.
He and Cassie
seemed to have made their peace with my father - and I was excluded in a way, as
I would always be. Yet I could never hold it against them. They were there for
me, they gave me a home when I had none. I slowly began to realise that I might
have been sent away from the junkyard if Cassie had not taken me
in.
“Catch me, Tug!” “Race you, Munk!”
These were the happiest
days of my life, and the shortest. Munkustrap became a part of me then, and his
conduct has influenced me even more than his mother’s teachings. He is so much
like her, open, warm and honest. But he also has Old D’s sternness and sense of
honour.
And all that I learned about love and trust, about friendship
and family was influenced by his acceptance of me, by his friendship for a
kitten that was the product of an affair that had broken his beloved mother’s
heart…
He was overly protective of Cassie, in any and all ways. Probably
because he could sense her pain at having lost two kittens, the wish to hold
onto him for as long as possible. He was the last kitten she had - I don’t count
myself as one of her kittens; I never truly was.
It was hard on
Munkustrap when Cassie died, too hard, for he blamed himself in part. We’d been
strolling through the streets, farther from the junkyard than we should have
ventured maybe, but Cassie took delight in showing us the beauty of the city,
the dark corners in side streets, warning us of the dangers that might lurk and
teaching us at the same time to watch out for them.
She believed in
strength, stealth and independence and she wanted us to know all about it as
well, as her gift to us, her special lesson.
In one of the side streets
we suddenly heard a faint meow, and deep, rumbling growling. I was not more than
four months old, but that sound still haunts me some nights. The pollicles were
about and we should have turned back to avoid them - had it not been for the
faint sounds of a cat with them.
Cassie told Munkustrap and me to leave
at once, to return home. We stayed behind as she raced to the rescue of a cat
she had never even seen. I really wanted to go, and it was with the utmost
surprise that I watched the grey tabby beside me straighten up suddenly and
straining his ears.
“I can’t hear her voice, only her hissing; I’ll go
and help!”
“You can’t! Cassie told us to stay put, you know that!”
”She needs help, I can feel it and I’m not running away and leaving her
unprotected!”
There it was, that protective streak - I really noticed it
for the first time then along with the determination and conviction in his dark
eyes that he was doing right. I understood him, better than any other cat ever
will, I believe. I nodded.
He jumped forward the moment he received my
answer, as if he had asked for my permission and he turned halfway, indicating
the way home, “You go. Cassie and I will join you in a moment.”
As
usual, he called his mother by her name; I know that it was to spare me the
anguish of hearing her referred to as ‘mum’, his ‘mum’, someone else’s ‘mum’. To
this day I’ve never told him who bore me. He might have heard his parents
talking about Grizabella, but I doubt it. Apart from Old D, Jenny, Jellylorum
and Bustopher I’m quite sure no one knows. Cassie did, but she took the
knowledge with her, to her grave.
As it was, I was ready to go and let
Munkustrap and his Mum settle everything. But I was called back, by a sense of
duty I’ve only ever felt to the two of them, and maybe on some occasions to my
father.
I crept up to where I could hear them fighting…it was a gruesome
sight indeed! Cassie was bleeding, standing guard over three tiny kittens,
Munkustrap at her side, his fur matted with blood, whether it was his or hers or
the pollicles’ I had no idea.
“Get the kittens!” Cassie hissed at him and
he looked at her, panicking. “I’ll take care of those bastards, get the little
ones out!” she repeated and he turned back, complying.
Very young still,
the fur-balls were lying trembling on the street and Munkustrap shouldered one
of them, taking the other by the nape of the neck. Only one of them was left, a
black one, with a few patches of white.
I knew that Cassie couldn’t hold
off the pollicles for that long, and I knew that Munkustrap wouldn’t be able to
carry the last one to safety in time. And I followed my instincts, rushing
towards that little black kitten and taking it up. Munkustrap saw me and I just
nodded at him, following him away from that street.
We ran to the
junkyard as fast as we could, never pausing, though the kittens seemed to get
heavier with every step we took. As soon as we had reached our home, Jenny
bounded up to us, her ginger fur all rumpled, taking in Munkustrap’s appearance
with a shocked look.
I laid the black kitten down gently, faster than my
brother with his injuries and the little one on his back could, and called,
“Cassie’s fighting the pollicles!”
It was a high pitched voice,
breathless and fearful that rang out, but loud enough to draw
attention.
“Follow me!” I screeched and as soon as a few toms had
assembled, I bounded ahead in front of them.
I indicated the place,
afraid to go closer as I could still hear the growling of the dogs and there was
no sound whatsoever of Cassie.
Skimble took me by the paw then, turning
me round gently and telling me to return, see if Munkustrap was fine, they’d
deal with those blasted pollicles.
And I went. As soon as I was in sight
of the junkyard, Jenny ran up to me, whisking me away to the old oven where she
slept. The kittens had been packed into a blanket and Munkustrap was being
restrained with difficulty by Gus, still in his bright blue costume, obviously
returned from the theatre in a hurry. Jellylorum was trying very hard to clean
Munku’s wounds, but he wouldn’t keep still.
“Tell him all will be well,
Tuggy, there’s a good tom! We must clean him up, he’s a mess, he needs rest!”
Jenny’s voice was faintly pleading, so I did what I could, sidling up to my
brother and reassuring him as best as I could by rubbing my head against
his.
For some inexplicable reason he quieted the moment he saw me and let
out a sigh of relief. He didn’t meet my eyes and he didn’t ask for his mother
either. It took me a while to understand that he knew it was too late to save
her.
I was still ignorant of that, for I hadn’t been in the fight, I
could not possibly know of the pollicles’ strength, not as Munkustrap
could.
Cassie was brought back that evening, and she was beyond help, as
her son had so rightly felt. Jenny had allowed him to get up by then and while
she tended to Cassie, she asked me to take care of the kittens.
I knew
Munkustrap was sitting with his mother, loath to leave her side, so I played
with the fur-balls without much enthusiasm. The little black one, however,
seemed to have taken to me, for he cuddled up to me, purring even though I tried
to back away.
It was unnatural that any cat should come to me for
comfort. I didn’t know how to give it, what to do. I was feeling so much younger
than my four months and so insecure! I had finally placated the kittens and
coaxed them to fall asleep, the black one still curled around my front paws,
when I heard someone approaching.
It was dark by then and the moon was
very bright that night, or so it seemed as it fell on Munkustrap’s grey and
black fur, silvering and shadowing it in a flow of gentle milky light. I
couldn’t see his eyes, but his voice was quiet, too quiet almost and only
audible because of the perfect stillness that lay upon the world.
“Cassie
wants you. She wants to…say…goodbye.”
The last word was almost choked and
it was then that I finally realised that she would die. Thoughts tumbled through
my head, the Heaviside Layer, we could send her there and she would come back
and… I didn’t voice any of them. It was not for me to say these things, I was
not Cassie’s son.
But I disentangled myself from the dark form of the
black kitten and followed Munkustrap to a sheltered spot in an old burned-out
car, where Cassie lay on a blanket, on the backseat. She had been cleaned and
her features were composed, but the shadow of death hung in the air and I sensed
it for some inexplicable reason.
She opened her eyes as we approached and
looked at us, smiling almost. The moonlight cast an ethereal glow upon her and
she looked like the Everlasting Cat to me then; or at least as close to it as
I’ve ever come to regard any other cat.
Munkustrap nudged me forwards,
till I had climbed through one of the broken windows, and settled at her side,
and then sank down beside me.
Cassie fixed her eyes on us and said, her
voice breaking, in a whisper, “I’m very proud of you, Munkie. You shouldn’t have
been there, but you helped save the kittens. That was very brave!”
The
grey tabby beside me only shook his head and laid a paw on my shoulder, “Tugger
helped, Mum! He helped me get them away!”
I wanted to say something then,
deny what he had said; he had called Cassie ‘Mum’ for the first time since she
had accepted me as her own and I didn’t want him to share even this last moment
with me, it was so much more than I could have deserved!
But Cassie
smiled and reached out a paw to pat my head, “I would have been proud of you
even so, but you’ve shown extreme courage and I’m touched by your
bravery!”
I think I was sniffling, for she continued patting me, her
speech slurring down, “I want you to watch out for each other and your father.
Family is what counts and I want you to remember that I’ve loved you both more
than I can express. You will know what I mean when you look upon your own
children…”
The next words were unintelligible, but I nodded nevertheless,
feeling the movement of her paw stopping slowly, until it slipped from my head,
to fall limply to her side. Only then did I notice the pain of claws in my
shoulder and realised that Munkustrap was leaning against me, gripping me
tightly.
I was still crying as I turned to him and saw that tears were
running across his nose; I reached out to him then, as he had reached for me and
offered me a share of his mother’s love. I cleaned his face carefully, rubbing
my head against his neck until he stopped crying.
No one disturbed us as
we sat a silent watch by Cassie’s body for the remainder of the night, leaning
against each other for warmth and comfort.
In this silence a friendship
was born that could never be broken. For no matter how much we changed in the
following years, we always had that night, that memory we shared. We didn’t have
to talk, we simply knew that we were bonded, not only by the ties of blood, but
by the stronger ties of love - Cassie’s love, our mother’s
love.
~*~
After his mother’s death, Munkustrap became more
reclusive. I could guess at the cause, but I left him to his solitary walks and
his brooding.
I had a different way of dealing with the pain. Since
losing Cassie, I felt even more like I didn’t belong somehow and somewhere along
the line I decided on a motto, a simple motto that I strove to live up to in
every case: “You can't ignore me, you must adore me.” (*)
I wanted to be
noticed, I wanted to be loved. I might have become a mischievous tease, getting
into trouble time and again, but I felt that I owed it to Cassie to be good. I
owed her all the motherly love I had known and I was bound to a silent promise I
had made to myself - never to discredit her attention and trust in
me.
Yet being a fairly attractive tom, I soon began to realise how easy
it was to flirt, to impress the queens. It was simple, really. I hung around
them, complimented them and flaunted myself in their faces - then I drew back
and they just came after me.
I made no promises, but I had them stay with
me for a while just as well. I learned how to please them, without ever asking
for the love I knew they couldn’t give me. For I realised that what I sought as
‘love’ was not something that would be lavished upon me so easily. It needed
time to grow, a time I did not have, did not want to spend hoping for something
I thought I could never have.
I wanted it all, and now! Adoration and
admiration, wide eyes and throaty purrs. It was exciting, exhilarating and it
gave me comfort.
It was only a shadow of the affection Cassie had given
me and yet I dared not try to aspire for more - I was, and still am, very much
afraid of rejection. It is a part of me, as Munkustrap’s kitten laugh is, as my
memories of Cassie are.
A few more months passed and at my first Jellicle
Ball I was already known as a notorious flirt. Still, everyone looked upon me as
a young, slightly stupid tom, who needed to sow his wild oats before he would
settle down.
But I was past caring for such hopes in me. I was by then so
used to constant flattering, to being surrounded by pretty queens who were all
crazy about me that I didn’t care for anything. I lived from moment to moment,
from day to day - frivolously easy and unconcerned with the future. I pushed
aside the past and let my spirits soar.
Munkustrap never understood - he
never asked and I never offered any explanation. The only one who seemed to know
my thoughts at that time was Quaxo, the little black kitten who had come to the
tribe on the fateful day that we had lost Cassie. The other two were named
Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer.
They looked so much alike, and yet we found
out that those two, in fact, all three kittens, had no family; they weren’t
related in any way, yet one name fell that connected them all - Macavity. It
seemed as if, once again, the master criminal of uncertain age and origin had
taken a few lives…and left the litter of his victims to the pollicles on the
street.
It wasn’t long before we all noticed that Quaxo was different,
that he had powers beyond that of an ordinary cat. Old D took to him and helped
him develop his abilities, but no one spoke about it. He just was a cat, a
Jellicle. That was enough for all.
But I knew him better. He had
attached himself to me, in a way I could not understand. He would come to me, to
talk, or just to stare wide-eyed at the queens who wooed me with star-struck
eyes. He accepted my wild ways, even showed me some of his ‘tricks’, though I
could never be sure if they were only that or some show of his extraordinary
gifts.
He was as much a mystery to me in most ways as I was to him. And
while Munkustrap and I ceased to play with each other, even to see each other
for a chat, Quaxo was my companion. My brother and I grew up and our friendship
hid in the shadows of the differences in our lives.
A small black kitten
with a patch of white on his chest remained for my comfort. ‘Hero worship’ was
what Jenny called it. I only laughed at her, as I had taken to laughing at so
many things. I didn’t want to feel for another cat what I had felt for Cassie.
She had died, leaving me just as my mother had left me. But Cassie had never
deserted me as Grizabella had, for there was still something that kept her alive
within me. She had given me her love, and her trust.
As had Munkustrap,
Old D, and now Quaxo. It was strange but no matter how much I tried to push them
away they wouldn’t let me, each of them stayed with me in their own way.
Old D left me to my own devices, refusing to comment on my life, keeping
out of it, asking for no more than the respect that was due to him.
Munkustrap shook his head at me, he removed from me, but he still cared
for me. Often, on coming back late at night, I’d find a mouse, rat or some other
titbit in front of my lodgings that still had his scent on it. He knew that I
had been taken in by a human family and he also knew that they were spoiling
me…
Yet I have to admit that I never enjoyed anything more than the
simple food he left for me. It was a token of a friendship never to be broken, a
love between brothers that would not change for all the changes in our
lives.
And Quaxo, he grew up into a short, lean tom and he refused to
accept aloofness as an excuse, wouldn’t let me hide behind being the tribe’s
heartthrob. He challenged me, my motives and my doings.
“You shouldn’t
play hide-and-seek with Bombalurina all the time. You like her too much for
that.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“You know very well what I
mean. I’ve never seen you tease a queen the way you tease her, and I’ve never
seen you in love like that either.”
“I’m NOT in love.”
“Face it,
Tugger. It was bound to happen. You can’t hide behind this mask of the callous
flirt forever.”
It was one of the things I had never wanted to hear,
especially not from Quaxo, since he was one of those who knew me too well for my
own good.
“This is none of your business, short one,” I snarled, and
regretted it the same moment.
Instead of turning from me, however, Quaxo
only looked at me, out of dark eyes, so much like my brother’s and smiled,
changing the subject,
“I’ve got a surprise for the Jellicle Ball - it’s
my first one after all…and I wanted you to be the first to see it.”
Not
waiting for my response, he closed his eyes, turned around once and said,
“Presto!”
And suddenly he stood in front of me - a totally different
cat! I might have said something like ‘Oh’, but I can’t remember for sure. Never
yet had he surprised me like that. His card tricks were spectacular, but a total
change of his fur…that was something entirely different and
mildly…disconcerting.
Quaxo was grinning, very well pleased with himself,
as he always was, when he made me loose my mask of studied disinterest in my
surroundings.
“I call it - Mr. Mistoffelees. It’ll be my alter ego for
the ball. I can’t do my magic tricks as Quaxo; after all I’ve learned that
presentation is half the success.”
“And who taught you that?”
“You, of course! If it weren’t for your carefully groomed looks, you
wouldn’t have half as many queens hanging about you. Your attitude only works
cause you’re the most attractive tom around,” and with a sly grin he added, “or,
let’s say, the one who manages to make everyone believe he’s the most
attractive.”
“Any competition up for me?” I just had to
ask.
“Only me, I’m afraid…yet.”
I laughed aloud at that; if I
would have had to name any tom who might have taken my place with the ladies I’d
never have thought of Quaxo. Still, I had to hand it to him, he knew what he
wanted and that probably was what counted, after all.
“So, are you going
to be performing anything special?”
“I wanted to ask you, since I got
quite a few tricks up my sleeve and can’t make up my mind.”
“Sure thing,
Quax, let’s go over your tricks then.”
He grinned, good-naturedly as
always and we spent the rest of the afternoon in comfortable silence making up a
list of magic tricks. The quiet was only broken now and then by a mumbled
‘Presto!’ when Quaxo, or Mr. Mistoffelees as I should refer to him, conjured
something up - to practice…
~*~
Munkustrap was, as I had always
known, reliable and stable, his quietness stemming in part from the scar left by
his mother’s death, or so I supposed. He sought to protect others and help his
father.
A few months before our second Jellicle Ball he had been
appointed right hand to Old D. This was only right, in my opinion, for he is the
born leader. His sense of justice and compassion is strong, stronger even than
when he was a kitten.
Yet I know that for all his warmth and his caring
he still is alone. He hasn’t found a mate. And I’m not sure he ever will; after
all, most of the queens he fancies turn out to prefer me to his calm and quiet
ways.
He is a protector to them, a brother at best, but none of them
seems to see the tom in him. Kittens play with him, but they never truly want
him. It makes me sad for him. Fortunately I know that most of his crushes
weren’t serious, not yet. And one has to admire his taste!
There’s a new
queen at the junkyard. Demeter’s her name and Bombalurina swears she’s a great
friend of hers. She came here because of a tom - that is all she will tell. I
was sitting with Old D that night, when Munkustrap and Quaxo approached, asking
for a word.
“It’s Macavity! Demeter told me, but she’s too frightened to
say his name out loud. I have no idea what he did to her, but…” the black tom
shuddered and it wasn’t hard to interpret the hard gleam in his eyes.
“We
will not speak of it then. I am glad, however, that the little one opens up to
us now. It is commendable,” Old D intoned quietly.
“We will protect
her,” Munkustrap’s voice was quiet, but the tone was as fierce as his mother’s
might have been when she was determined to take care of a problem.
I
observed him closely after that and soon found out that he was drawn to the
young queen. Good for him, she is quite a sight. Though probably slightly
unaware of it, she exudes sensuality and her eyes can take a tom’s heart, should
she wish it.
I’m still hard at work charming her friend, Bombalurina.
She’s gorgeous and gets far too much attention from the other toms, she’s too
tempting to pass by. I want her, it’s a craving I’ve never felt before and
couldn’t explain and yet I don’t like the feeling that Quaxo’s observation of my
being in love with her has evoked in me.
It scares me to think of ‘love’
in context with a queen. Any cat, for that matter. Friendship’s scary enough as
it is. So I’m used to drive that thought from my mind, hiding behind other
things, my own observations, for example.
Munkustrap is being his most
reassuring, gentle self with Demeter. I have named him the ‘Tabby Knight’,
though I most certainly wouldn’t say it to his face. He wouldn’t understand how
he appears to other cats, how he appears to me.
I only hope that Demeter
won’t scoff at his love. For I’m quite sure it’s a lasting affection. His heart
has been broken once or twice, I believe, though he doesn’t speak about it and I
really have no idea how he bears it; this time a rejection would shatter
him.
I realise now that we haven’t truly talked for months. Almost a
year, in fact. Not conversations like the ones we had when we were still
kittens.
And what is even more frightening to me is that I’m beginning to
miss that. I really want to talk, to listen, to exchange my feelings. And that
scares me, beyond anything else. Quaxo might suspect it, but the others can’t.
I’m even more exuberant than usual, and at the height of my charming powers.
I will tempt any queen to my bed, and I will wake up alone again after a
short while. I try so hard to seem unconcerned, to push the nagging doubts and
fears away; I don’t want to listen to my inner voice that says I should search
for the love I’ve so long denied myself.
As if it were out there, ready
for me, just waiting for me to reach out and take it. It’s not that easy. My own
mother left me! I never truly belonged to anyone and I’m quite sure I was never
meant to. All the kindness I’ve received was out of pity, it can’t be that any
cat loves me for simply being myself.
And then there’s this little part
inside me, this voice in my head that says I am loved and cared for, despite all
my denials. That Munkustrap is my brother and will always love me as such,
through the all-encompassing love his mother instilled in him.
And that
Quaxo is my friend, and will stand by me, like a brother. One evening we were
sitting together on a pipe, by mutual agreement it seemed. For only a few
minutes after I had sat down, hating to be alone, he stopped by and seated
himself beside me.
“Lovely night, isn’t it?” I mumbled, a half-hearted
attempt at conversation.
“Full moon’s out tonight. And there might be a
few shooting stars for you to wish upon.”
“I have all I want,” I
answered, a little too quickly, but Quaxo passed it by, smiling knowingly.
“Munkustrap’s our protector now, officially, I mean.”
“Mmhh.”
“You know, Jenny told me only today that I ought to stop
hero-worshipping you since you were a bad influence.”
Now that got my
attention, “Me? A bad influence? She’s got nerves to say that, she’s been
mooning over me when Skimble wasn’t near…”
Quaxo laughed heartily and
clapped me on the back, “See, that’s just what I told her and she was quiet in a
flash.”
“You said THAT to her?”
“Speak your mind, that’s what
I’ve been taught.”
‘Not by me’ I thought, almost ashamed to acknowledge
that it hurt that some of the things he lived by could not possibly have been
inspired by someone like me.
“Munkustrap pulled me aside once,” the black
tom continued, as if he had guessed my silent remark, “I had been talking to
Vicky and I kinda lied to her when I said that I thought she wasn’t stuck-up. I
thought she was, at that time.”
He grinned in remembrance, softly shaking
his head, “Munkustrap heard us. He came up to me and told me that it wouldn’t do
to swindle my way around what I really thought. That it was better to be honest,
even if it hurt you - or the other - sometimes.”
“Then you’ve had the
best teacher…”
“No, not really. After all, there are things that he
doesn’t talk about either, even though he might feel better if he did.”
“Do you know everyone’s secret thoughts?”
“I wouldn’t call a
hunch of what cats are feeling 'knowledge of their secret thoughts'.
Munkustrap’s pushing aside painful memories, or dark ones, I couldn’t tell…very
much like you.”
I nodded, in spite of wanting to deny the truth in his
words and he smiled, bowing his head and conjuring a bowl of cream out of thin
air for us.
~*~
It is at night that memories assail me most often.
I sometimes lie awake, alone, watching the moon and then I cry. Everyone who
knew me as a kitten thinks I’ve lost my mind, that I’ve become emotionally
detached, that I don’t care for the feelings of others anymore.
Yet they
have never pushed me away from them, I’m still part of the tribe, welcome in
their midst. I belong to them and they to me, like a family, a connection that
can’t be broken. And then there are, of course, the humans that I stay with now
and then. They adore me, like the queens and kittens do and they shower me with
affection.
But I know that I’m a fake, as false as is their belief that
they love and need me; for they don’t. I’m not important to anyone. Munkustrap
has found a place as a protector and though he will have a hard time finding a
mate, I’m sure he’ll settle down and be a good father one day.
I am
restless, too much like my mother, I believe. At times I wonder if my way of
dealing with problems was hers as well, whether she left to get away from her
responsibilities, as I have become a flirt to slip away from
emotions.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to meet her. I’ve seen
her a few times in the past months, slipping quietly in and out of the shadows.
At first I didn’t recognise her, then I overheard Jenny telling Demeter about
her.
“Her name’s Grizabella - the glamour cat. She left the tribe, just
like that, to pursue her own interests. Now she hangs about the seedy side of
town, near Tottenham Court. It’s a sorry sight, for sure, but it was her own
wish. Old Deuteronomy himself was very hurt by her leaving, rejecting her life
with us.”
I couldn’t sleep that night, for the vision of my mother in the
shadows haunted me. So she was the queen who had born me? I tried to find rest
but I couldn’t keep the thought from returning and plaguing me.
I don’t
feel sorry for her. I feel anger, resentment and I ask myself time and again why
she left, why she didn’t love me enough to stay. And I can’t understand it, I
probably never will. I might have turned out differently if I had had a mother -
and then I chide myself, for I had a mother, one I didn’t deserve, the very
queen that had been replaced for a short while by the cat who gave life to
me.
Thinking of Cassie still hurts after all those years and so I let the
images of her face, the sensation of her warmth and care slip away quietly. I
store them at the back of my mind, where they belong. I can’t face them. I can’t
face the love that I lost and that I’ll never have again.
~*~
The
Jellicle Ball brought me no peace of mind, I couldn’t even really enjoy it. Oh,
yes, I did have my moments, showing off my wild side, keeping everyone’s
attention on me. But then my mother showed up. I recognised her and I turned
away.
I knew her now and I couldn’t bear to look at her. I hated her at
that moment, so much that I didn’t trust myself not to lash out at her, so I
just stalked away, watching her interaction with the others from the distance.
Seeing Bombalurina pass Grizabella by, hissing at her, felt good; as if I wanted
to punish my mother for leaving me, as if everyone should punish her for
it.
However, that was the only pleasure Bomba afforded me that evening.
She was coming too dangerously close to me. It was a flirtation, for sure, but I
felt more affected by it than I liked and so I tried to keep away from her,
pushing her away.
I had to do it, to save myself from this longing for
her that was so distinctly more than the craving for physical contact. It scared
the hell out of me.
It just wasn’t something I was prepared to
acknowledge, the possibility that I could have feelings for a queen, that Quaxo
could have been right. She took the message to heart, and decided to give me
back some of my own medicine. As soon as I bestowed attention on the kittens,
she made eyes at Pouncival. Not that he didn’t provoke it.
I’ve never
seen a tom more keen on hitting on Bomba! Sure, everyone wants her, but he’s
been crazy about her for ages, practically from the moment he realised there was
a difference between toms and queens.
I think that he’s only interested
in her on the physical level. In a way that ought to reassure me but I have
discovered that I loathe him for it. As much as I loathe myself for it. Every
time I flirt with a queen I’m beginning to ask myself if I have any right to
seduce her and have her in my bed.
In fact, I wonder that any of the
queens are still interested in me. They should know better than to think that I
might fall for any of them. If they look for love, they’d better lavish their
attention on my brother.
Ah, yes, Munkustrap. The Jellicle hero, the
‘Tabby Knight’. I know he’ll take our father’s place one day and I’m sure there
isn’t a cat better suited for the office than him.
However, at times I
can’t help being jealous of him. It’s stupid, really. I’m jealous of his
courage, his dedication and his ability to give his love freely and
unconditionally. I want to let go so much, to be like him, to open up but every
time I try I just get scared, I close my eyes to what I truly want and run from
it.
Just as I ran from Macavity. Well, not all that intentionally, but I
ran all the same. After Old D had been catnapped, Munkustrap sent the toms out
to look for him. I was with Skimble and we stayed out a bit longer than most of
the others. We thought we had found a lead; at least that’s what I told myself.
Poor Skimble actually thought we’d track Old D down; after a few dirty
side streets I knew he was wrong, but I didn’t tell him, I played along. And all
that because I was frightened. I felt safer out on the streets, away from the
junkyard just then, as if I knew that Macavity would return, that he would
threaten the tribe.
I wasn’t there when my brother fought to protect the
Jellicles, when he once again offered his life to save others. I wasn’t there
when he was wounded. I wasn’t there and it had been my conscious decision. I
could have told Skimble to skip the last few streets. There was no trace of Old
D there anyway.
Instead I trudged along behind him, hands on hips,
pretending to search for a cat who wasn’t there. A few minutes longer; I might
have lost my brother. I didn’t know, didn’t want to think about what might
happen.
When Skimble and I came back to the junkyard we saw an explosion
of light and then heard the awed whisper, “Macavity’s not there!”
We knew
what had happened and Skimble almost fell over his own paws trying to find
Jenny. He’s a good sort of tom, only a bit slow at times. I, however, crept onto
a pipe and lay there for a while, seeing a small light illuminating a circle in
the midst of the yard.
And I recognised my brother as he was taken care
of by the queens. I saw that it was Demeter who was cleaning his wounds, along
with Rumpleteazer and Jellylorum. And I knew that it was my fault it had come to
this. I ought to have been by his side as was my duty, not only as a Jellicle,
but as his friend, his brother.
I remembered Quaxo then, and his magical
tricks and as I had nothing better to offer for comfort, I told the others about
his magical powers, about his other identity - the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees. I
called for him and he came. And for once, I didn’t manage the cold cynicism that
has become so much a part of me.
I actually asked the others to listen to
me. “Please, listen to me and don’t scoff.” They probably didn’t even
realise I was pleading with them, that I wanted to be accepted despite my
failing to be there when I was needed.
But Munkustrap heard it, I’m sure,
for when we talked later he was more than ready to forgive me - and if nothing
else, this is a comfort to me.
Quaxo, Mistoffelees to be exact, restored
the lights in the junkyard and he even brought Old D back. I never properly
thanked him. But my emotion was in my voice as I welcomed my father back and I
just looked at Quaxo and he smiled, nodding. He knew what I couldn’t say. But
still I think I ought to have said it out loud.
One day I will, I have
sworn it to myself. Now that the evening is over I have even more food for
thought. Not only did my brother drag himself up enough to perform his duties as
leader-in-chief flawlessly, but my mother was sent to the Heaviside Layer.
I didn’t forgive her. It haunts me. I feel guilty. I might have taken
her paws, yet all I managed was a curt nod, standing behind the others, not
coming close. Cassandra stood beside me and she bowed, at least. I just stood
there like a statue. And I had sneered at her before, hoping to drive her away.
I thought I had a good reason, but when she told her story…she shouldn’t have
been treated like this. And she shouldn’t have left me.
I don’t know if
I’ll ever forgive myself for not accepting her as the others did. Still it
wasn’t in my power just then. I kept apart from the others, saluting her as she
went up to the Lair of the Everlasting Cat. She smiled at me, once, looking
directly into my eyes as she stepped towards her new life.
I cherish
that smile. It’s the only one I remember from her, the only smile my mother ever
gave me.
I shiver in the night breeze and I know that I must face
another cat tonight; for though Grizabella will never be able to forgive me -
Munkustrap can. It was hard to get to him, however.
Firstly I had to
pass Demeter and that’s not as easy as other cats might think. I was surprised
myself, since I had not expected her to be quite so…forceful.
She looked
me up and down, the same way I had looked at her when she had come to the
junkyard and she gave me a look that almost chilled me to the bone. She was
angry with me, I realised. She had noticed that I wasn’t there to help my
brother!
“I wouldn’t let you in, but he’s insisting on being fine,” she
shrugged her shoulders, “Just don’t take too long and don’t excite
him.”
I nodded, attempting a smile. It was the worst fake smile I’ve ever
produced. She stepped aside somewhat reluctantly to let me pass and I inclined
my head slightly in her direction. She had averted her eyes and didn’t see it.
My heart was beating a lot too fast when I finally stood before
Munkustrap. I didn’t look at him though, keeping my eyes fixed on a point past
his head,
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”
“Forget about
it.”
I looked at his prone form then; the blood that had matted his fur
had been cleaned away; but his eyes were tired and somewhat haunted as he spoke
to me and I jumped to a conclusion without thought, remembering the same look
from the night when his mother had died.
“I knew that I ought to have
come back to help you fight Macavity! It’s not the same as it was when Cassie
was wounded. You never thought about yourself or your life, you stood by her to
the last. And it wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t save her!”
It just
slipped past my lips and I wanted to take it back the next moment, seeing the
pain in my brother’s eyes. But then he grabbed my paw, hugged me and whispered,
“Thank you.”
I had no idea what to say, Munkustrap surely is the last tom
who needs to thank me for anything. But even as I shook my head he smiled,
almost wistfully, and looked straight into my eyes, “I still think I might have
done more to help her; I’m glad you’re not angry with me.”
It sounded as
if he was apologizing for a failure of his! And that was something I couldn’t
bear, “Stop that nonsense! You’re all Cassie ever wanted you to be! And she was
proud you came back to stand by her! If you ever again say such nonsense to my
face I’m gonna…beat you black and blue!”
I was growling at him, for the
first time in my life I was actually angry with him. I just knew he had no right
to think so badly of himself. No one had the right to think ill of my brother!
And his smile deepened, even though I knew I hadn’t convinced him. What scared
me was the amount of relief I saw in his eyes, as if he had needed me to forgive
him…
I averted my eyes from his and looked straight onto the evidence of
his fight. There would be many scars, I concluded, for most of the wounds were
fairly deep. They had been cleaned but it was clear that he had to be in great
pain. I wanted to help him, to be there for him, but I was at a loss for
words.
“Could you tell Demeter to go get some sleep? She won’t listen to
me, but it’s embarrassing and exasperating to have her here, she worries too
much.”
The fondness in his voice was barely masked by his open concern
for her, he did enjoy being looked after - who wouldn’t, if the queen in
question is the one one’s heart belongs to?
I nodded, slipping out of his
pipe and coming face to face with the startlingly green eyes of the young queen.
“Munkustrap would like you to rest a while…,” I began and was surprised
to see her shake her head silently, stubbornly, “He’s worried about you and it
might be better…”
“Nonsense! I won’t leave him now. He needs to be looked
after. He mustn’t stir too much, his wounds must be cleaned at regular intervals
and…” she trailed off but I thought I could easily finish for her.
“You
don’t owe him anything. It’s his way to protect other cats.”
Her eyes
were flashing now as she raised her paw and brought it down sharply on my head,
“You might not understand it, but it’s not just ‘his way’! It’s no one’s ‘way’,
it’s a conscious decision that needs great courage and caring and total
disregard for oneself! It’s brave and selfless, not just one’s ‘way’!” she
hissed at me.
I couldn’t believe it, especially not as I had seen her
when Macavity appeared. She’d all but cowered and now she was telling me off.
Strangely enough I found that to be a good sign for Demeter’s honest attachment
to my brother, and that thought made me smile.
She was still glowering at
me, however, so I composed myself and put on my most haughty look, “You can go
and sleep. I’ll take care of Munkustrap.”
She didn’t seem to have any
intention to move and I realised with a sinking feeling that she didn’t trust me
enough to let me look after my own brother. And, I had to admit it, it must be
pretty hard for her to see me in a positive light. In her eyes I was, and am,
after all, just a flirt; I never take responsibilities, it seems odd that I’m
suddenly keen to do something for another cat.
So I gave in. I looked
into her eyes and tried to keep steady under her piercing gaze as I said, my
tone as gentle as it has ever been but without the seductive sweetness I have so
long cultivated, “I won’t let any harm come to my brother. I give you my word as
a Jellicle on it.”
She blinked then, surprised I think, and she nodded
her head slowly, “I’ll be with Bombalurina if he needs me.”
I kept my
composure until her back was turned to me and grinned madly at her retreating
form… ‘if he needs me’ I really, really liked that! So it seemed that Munkustrap
had finally ensnared a queen’s heart - good for him!
I didn’t say
anything of course. It’s not my place to get involved in my brother’s life. So I
just returned to his side, stopped any attempt of his to talk and made sure he
slept before I began to meticulously clean his wounds. Never mind that it was
not a very dignified occupation for the junkyard flirt to care for a wounded
cat.
During this night I couldn’t have cared less for my pride, my every
thought was focused on easing my brother’s pain…
~*~
“Tugger?”
I came awake in a flash, sitting up and staring straight into my
brother’s eyes. I could have sworn they were twinkling with something
like…amusement?
“Ah, yes…I…how do you feel?”
“Fine.”
A
blatant lie, easy to tell by the creases of pain just about visible around his
eyes and mouth every time he moved, and his hunched shoulders.
“Lie
down.”
Another of these slightly amused glances and a weary, “Are you
bossing me around, Tugger?”
I admit I stared at him. He was
quite…playful, so very much like the kitten I had known, the fun-loving
playfellow of my earliest youth. I grinned then and nudged him to the
blanket.
“Think you can convince me?” I hissed into his ear.
His
eyes widened and he smiled, mumbling, “Should have known you’d see through me.”
I watched him out of the corner of my eye and realised for the first
time the air of relief around him…
“You were afraid of Macavity?” Stupid
question really, considering who that cat was, I admonished myself.
“Yes.
Afraid of him, afraid for Demeter, for the others…so much depended on whether or
not I was able to fight him,” his eyes were tired still as he added, in a low
voice I had to strain to hear, “I might have failed…”
“You
didn’t.”
Munkustrap didn’t seem to think my remark worthwhile answering,
so I shrugged my shoulders and sat by his side.
“Alonzo’s alright, I
trust? And the others?”
“Sure. They’re probably forming a committee to
bring you a bouquet of mice.”
He grinned, though the joke sounded lame
even to my own ears.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to lately, Munk.”
“Nothing much, Tug, not really. Just this and that, nowhere near as
fascinating as your exploits with the females.”
“I’d still like to
know.” And I did, I really wanted to hear him tell me what he was doing, as if
searching for a connection to a life I had so blatantly rejected the moment I
began to flirt with the queens, vying for their attention.
“This isn’t
just some plot of yours to keep me lying down?”
I grinned, “That’s one
of the positive side effects.”
I ducked the half-hearted swipe of his
paw and settled down comfortably, listening to his soft
words.
~*~
I was relieved off duty by Demeter just before noon,
when she came in carrying a few rats. I asked her for a word and she went
outside with me, no word of complaint on her lips.
“I’ll be back
tonight.” Not very eloquently put, but I did want to be useful and I must say
that the idea of refreshing my friendship with Munkustrap began to be one of my
main goals in life.
It might have been the realisation that I could have
lost my brother forever, like I had lost Cassie. Or that I had figured out that
there were some cats I was close to, whether I liked it or not, and that I
couldn’t push them away, since they would still be in my thoughts - and my
heart.
“Sure, bring dinner round for Munkustrap then,” a brief nod and
she was gone.
I grinned and set off to look for Quaxo. I had something
in mind, a plan that, though complicated, might be one of the best of all
times…with a little help.
Quaxo was lounging in one of my favourite spots
on the pipe, mooned over by Victoria and Electra. They hardly noticed me when I
came up and my heart sank. My friend saw me, waved and winked at me, then joined
me and said, “Gotta go, ladies. See you later.”
As soon as we were out
of ear-shot he dissolved into a laughing fit and clapped me on the
shoulder.
“Seeing your face just now - that was almost worth putting up
with Vicky’s questions about how I got a rainbow coloured band into a hat! Don’t
worry, they still love you, but since you weren’t round last night I thought I’d
entertain them a little.”
“Doesn’t matter,” my voice was more gruff than
I liked, but I was beginning to be really jealous of that young black tom.
He sobered after a moment and smiled, “What’s up?”
“I thought
about Munk, how he’s always alone and…”
“Ah, so you were with him last
night, I thought you’d take care of him. But,” seeing my wide eyes, “I didn’t
tell anyone. Let them figure out you have a heart for themselves. They’re too
easily judging other cats as it is.”
I had to clear my throat, the
mention of my heart having done nothing to soothe the jumble of my feelings that
made my state of mind turbulent at best.
“I was hoping you’d help me with
a little…match-making.”
Quaxo grinned, his eyes bright with mischief as
he nodded, “Sure thing, name the queen and I’ll be on it!”
I couldn’t
help but return his smile, he was immersing himself in the project already, I
could see thousands of ideas passing through his mind, flitting through his eyes
as they were analysed and stored away again.
“I was thinking of a
moonlight serenade.”
“Great! What do you want? Mild summer breeze?
Honeysuckle scents? Full moon maybe?”
“Eager to show off your powers,
aren’t you, Quax?”
“Course I am!” he was laughing silently now, his face
artless and open like every one of his gestures.
I wondered how he had
managed to keep his innocence, his warmth and faith in life and love after what
he’d been through. He’d never truly seen his parents, his earliest memories were
of hatred, pain and destruction.
As if reading my thoughts he sat beside
me, suddenly serious and, looking into the distance said, very quietly,
“I was frightened and I thought we’d die. But there was a grey-white
striped queen - funny I should remember her colouring, don’t you think? She
protected us. And then Munkustrap was there. He picked up the other two, despite
his injuries and he had to leave me,” he paused briefly, looking at me out of
large, knowing eyes,
“But then you were there and picked me up and
carried me away. You were gone again after you’d put me down, but you came back
later. And I felt safe. I knew that Munkustrap - or that grey blur I saw him as
- was easier once you were around again too. I began to associate security with
you.”
I would have stopped him, had I not been totally fascinated by his
narration. To think that anyone had ever regarded me as giving instead of as
taking…
“And you stayed. You know, Tugger, you never truly stepped out of
my life again. When I ran after you, you smiled at me, sometimes you let me
chase your tail…you never pushed me away.”
And I began to slowly
understand what he was trying to tell me - as I looked at him then, he
smiled,
“You think you don’t have Munkustrap’s strength or his
dedication, but you do. And what you believe yourself incapable of giving,
you’ve given to me. You may say you can’t possibly fall in love, since you’ve
left your heart somewhere along the way,” he was openly grinning now, “but it
kept following you and now it’s finally caught up and demands your attention.”
I shook my head, but I knew he was right. I had run away from feelings,
from love and caring, from all responsibility. And in the process I had
unconsciously offered Quaxo exactly the same thing Munkustrap had offered
me…
“Guess Munk’s rubbed off on me…” I sounded like a gruff, aged tom.
Quaxo laughed at me, until I couldn’t help but join
in.
~*~
When I returned to Munkustrap’s place, dinner safely in my
mouth, I took only a minute to deposit the mice before asking Demeter for
another word. I guess she was exasperated with me already, the look she gave me
spoke of plain disapproval, which turned to amazed surprise as I told her,
matter-of-factly,
“I can’t help but think you love Munkustrap.”
If ever a queen’s glance was full of daggers, I fell down stabbed to
death that moment.
“That’s none of your business,” she hissed, her claws
unsheathing. I decided for the more subtle approach Quaxo had
counselled.
“Look, I don’t want to see him hurt. He cares for you and if
you break his heart…”
She looked at me, her green eyes wide, assessing
my words, “It’s none of your business. But I promise you that I’ll never hurt
Munkustrap.”
Not what I had hoped for, but enough, especially when I
considered the tone she had said my brother’s name in…
“That’s good
enough for me.”
She turned around, briefly sticking her head into Munk’s
pipe, calling “See you tomorrow!” before setting off into the
dusk.
~*~
“You do have a way with queens, Munk, you know that?”
He was confused, yet I did enjoy teasing him, a bit too much maybe than
was good for me. But I needed to know what exactly his feelings were. Quaxo had
told me, after long deliberations that he considered a moonlight serenade to be
a little out of place - if arranged by us.
It wasn’t Munkustrap’s style,
he was no dashing romantic. Not that Quaxo hadn’t had a laughing fit when I said
I considered him to be the one and only ‘Tabby Knight’, but still, my friend was
right - Demeter and Munkustrap needed a more subtle, less obvious approach.
“Well, I was talking about Demeter, Munk. You know, it’s not everyday a
tom jumps in and saves the queen in distress when a baddie like Macavity appears
on the picture…”
“Tugger! You make me sound like one of those knights
out of the humans’ picture books!” his tone was pure accusation, yet it did
nothing to stem my grin from spreading wider on my face than ought to have been
possible.
“Fess up, Munk. Is she, or is she not?”
“Is she
what?”
“Your sweetheart.”
The effect of this word on Munkustrap
was just priceless! His face fell and he looked very nervous all of a sudden,
“You don’t…I’ve not…she doesn’t…”
“Just say yes or no,
Munk.”
“I…”
Now I had done it. My brother was at a loss for words
and felt extremely ill at ease. To see him fidget like that - it brought up all
memories of our kittenhood. Finally I took mercy on him and said
conversationally,
“You love her.”
He simply nodded.
“You
should tell her.”
“Sure, Tug, as if it was so easy. Want me to strut up
to her and say ‘hey, Dem, how about living with me’?”
If mirth ever had a
face, it would have been mine just then, “I’d love to see that! Come on, Munk,
seriously.”
“She’ll feel grateful, obliged and…”
“NO. If you had
seen her hit me on the head, and hard, I might add, when I assumed that was the
reason for her taking care of you…”
“She hit
you?”
“Yep.”
Munkustrap’s face brightened all of a sudden and he
looked at me, confusion gone and his eyes bright, “You think I got a
chance!”
Giving a mock groan, I nodded my head and prepared myself for an
onslaught of all of Demeter’s perfections as related by her soon-to-be-lover. I
had seen Munkustrap like that before - having a crush on Bomba as a nine-months
old had been the occasion - and I was resigned to spending the night listening
to his elaborations.
He remained quiet, smiling.
“Dinner?” he
eventually queried, his eyes dancing and I figured that I might have mistaken
his silence after all.
“I won’t enumerate all her perfections, Tug, I
don’t even know her that well.”
“So you’ll ask her to spend more time
with you.”
“Yes.”
That was too much like Munkustrap, too
delicate and sensible. I sighed. I’d probably have raced to her, swept her off
her feet with a kiss and…
As realisation dawned, it took me totally
unaware - I wouldn’t do that, not when I was in love with a queen. And unbidden
Bomba’s face appeared in front of my inner eye and refused to budge all
night.
~*~
To my utmost surprise, Quaxo was able to conjure up a
moonlight serenade after all - the day Munkustrap asked Demeter to be his mate.
He had only told Quaxo, but my friend hadn’t been able to leave me out of the
fun and had engaged my help in planning it all to perfection.
“No clouds
tonight, which is good, full moon, very good indeed…you got the fish?”
“Sure, a white mouse too, some cream…”
Quaxo was ticking things
off on a list that hung suspended in midair, seemingly oblivious to the
spectacle he made of himself. He had been shy once, but there was not a trace of
it left, at least not when he was involved in some scheme or other (which he
almost constantly was, of course).
During the past two months I had given
up on encouraging the kittens’ attentions. I let Quaxo take over, much to his
chagrin, since he was now constantly beleaguered by a flock of young queens
whose eyes never left him, no matter what he did, no matter where he
moved.
I watched from a distance, enjoying some quiet solitude and
thought. It was during this time that I ordered my feelings into some semblance
of an organised mind. I had to admit, grumbling, that I did indeed feel more
than just a mild interest in Bomba, and though that scared me beyond anything I
can express, I finally accepted it.
I didn’t like all this brooding, it
seemed to go against my nature at first, but I decided it was necessary. Somehow
my reluctant opening up to Munkustrap and Quaxo, my careful steps towards being
kind and considerate had made it impossible to go on totally unconcerned with
all things around me.
~*~
It was early in the morning, there was
still some white frost on the ground. The air that wafted into my little domain
was chilly.
Yet, curiously enough, I felt warm, too warm for a tom who
slept alone on an old rug. So I turned in the direction of the warmth and found
my nose in the midst of wisps of red fur. I was close to jumping to my feet, but
arms were circling round my waist, holding me safely in place.
I must
admit it felt eerily good not to wake up alone, but still, all my alarm bells
were ringing! Even more so when as sleepy voice mumbling my name attested that
my wildest suspicions were true - Bomba was lying cuddled up next to
me!
Before I had managed to extricate myself she was fully awake,
straddling me and turning my face towards her. I couldn’t escape her eyes, or
her body, for that matter. I panicked - I was very close to throwing her off me
when she nuzzled my nose.
I’m not saying that this was the first time a
queen did that, but not every nuzzle is the same, and this one was
very…intimate.
“Quaxo and Munkustrap mentioned you needed a
flat-mate.”
I couldn’t overhear the emphasis on the word ‘mate’, nor did
I really want to. Since speech had left me for good, I just held her tightly as
she snuggled up to me.
“Want me to stay?”
“Always.”
I’m
still surprised that this word ever left my lips, especially in a moment such as
this. It did come somewhat too naturally in my view, but since Bomba only smiled
and told me she’d gladly do just that, I had nothing to worry about.
I
did, however, catch Munk and Quax with a pail of water next time I saw them.
They just laughed at me, thoroughly enjoying the little prank they’d played on
me. Typical.
I’m still surprised that my transformation from heartthrob
to mate has been so smooth. That isn’t to say that Quaxo didn’t help. A few
whispered words and Pouncival gladly took over my role, even though Bomba
attested that the swinging of his hips would never come close to mine.
The leaves are falling again now, another year has passed. And I must
say that I can, in good conscience, echo my mother’s words today, “A new life
has begun.”
The End.
(*) a quote from ‘Electra’ (John
Partridge) from Starlight Express