Catsby: A Novel

Chapter 25: Part 1

"Once upon a time, I lived in a small cottage on a picturesque English hillside with an elderly woman. A cat lady," Sir Catrick Stewart said. "She rarely went anywhere, but when she did she'd bring back another cat with her. There had to be two dozen of us living under her roof. She kept us fed, albeit on dry food that the postman delivered once a week from Amazon. None of us had her full attention, even for a moment—which, for a cat, is a tough thing to handle. If we don't get enough attention, we get testy. Not a day went by that one of us didn't go wee on her mattress. I'm not proud of it, but I'll admit to having done it on occasion."

Catsby shuddered. He could barely imagine how bad things had gotten, that the only way to get someone to notice you was by urinating outside the litter box. And on their master's bedding! What a filthy way to conduct themselves—but, if what Stewart was saying was true, who could blame the poor animals?

"I couldn't live long in such a miserable household," Stewart said. "While I wasn't the put-together gentleman you see before you today, I had some sense that there was a future out there for me. I was only close to one of the cats there: Ian McKitten. We became fast friends, having entered the house only a few weeks apart. He had similarly refined senses. It didn't hurt that he was a bit of a looker. Together, we hatched a plan to leave the house of ill repute. We didn't know exactly what was beyond the doors of our poorhouse, but we had determination and we had claws. We would be free, and that was all that mattered.

"One day, when the old woman opened the door to receive her weekly supply of that crap she called food, Ian and I launched ourselves through her legs and out into the world. The gloriousness of our surroundings was almost too painful to behold—the sights, the smells....oh God, the smells. I paused and drew in a deep breath. I couldn't even identify half the smells tickling my nasal passageways...

"Ian snapped me back to my senses, just before the woman could scoop me up and drag me back inside. The postman, meanwhile, just stood there with this giant box in his hands, trying not to trip over us. The other cats watched from the windowsills. The blank expressions on their eyes chilled me to the bone. The bloody slaves. Most of them believed the woman was actually the captive. Can you believe such poppycock?

"Anyway, we ran. Four legs will carry you faster than two legs, and so we easily outran the woman. We had no real destination in mind, but we headed for the tall trees that marked the edge of the woods. There, we hoped to find cover under the brush."

Catsby shook his head. "You guys were crazy. What about all the other animals in the woods?"

Stewart shrugged. "We were young and dumb. We didn't think there was anything that could hurt us. After running for what felt like miles, we stopped to huddle under a fallen tree. The first thing we realized was that it was a lot colder than we'd expected, especially after the sun set. We huddled together for comfort, but didn't dare sleep. The howls of the wolves kept us awake. We were scared shitless. Literally. We defecated in the woods and did our best to cover it. We felt wild, untamed, and uncivilized. It was impossible to keep our coats clean, with all the dirt and grass and twigs sticking to us. One night in the woods, and we'd reverted to animals.

"You know—or maybe you don't—there's some debate in cat circles as to whether or not we lost or gained something by being domesticated by humans. Ian and I didn't want to go off the grid. Deep down, I think all we wanted was find another human to take care of us, one who would pay us the right amount of respect. One who wouldn't turn her house into some sort of feline tenement. Ian and I, we weren't revolutionaries. We weren't looking to overthrow the system. We just wanted a little attention. Is that so much to ask?"

"Everybody wants to feel loved."

"Exactly," Stewart continued. "There are three things we all need: food, water, and tummy rubs. Much to my surprise, everything I'd been looking for was right there under my nose the entire time."

"Your mouth," said Catsby.

"Excuse me?"

"Your mouth is under your nose."

"Well, yes," Stewart said, "but I'm talking about Ian."

"You mean you two were..."

"Lovers. While I curled up with him to stay warm, it dawned on me why I'd been willing to go off on this crazy venture without the slightest thought to what would happen next. Because I was in love with Ian. As long as we were together, we could face down any obstacle. Ian's breathing grew deep and labored, and his heart beat faster; I assumed his mind was going to the same places mine was. I moved a paw down his tummy. He purred at my touch. Had he been thinking about this moment for months? Or had it taken him by surprise as well? Even though neither of us had our full wedding tackle, we still had urges. No, not urges—we had needs."

Sir Catrick Stewart's eyes glazed over. It was as if he'd been transported to another time and place. Catsby didn't want to be rude, but wasn't sure how much more he could listen to. And you, dear reader, may be worried we're about to get into a full cat-on-cat sex scene. Thankfully, Stewart sensed his guest's discomfort with the turn the story had taken, and moved on (thus saving you, dear reader, as well).

"After we finished our lovemaking, we dozed off—wolves and raccoons be damned," he said. "The afterglow of our lovemaking was too powerful to resist. When I next awoke, Ian was still asleep in my arms. I let out a massive yawn; not that I was tired, because I felt we'd slept until midday, judging by the position of the sun over our heads. Do you ever find that sometimes the sun just makes you yawn?"

Catsby yawned—not because of the sun, but because the story was dragging on and on, with no end in sight.