The Adventures of Caterwaul the Cat (14 page)

“By the way, thank you for your timely intervention. That fat cat has been shaking me down ever since we were weaned. But I am curious about one thing, though. How did you get rid of Meyer and Bugsy? Lucius Jr. doesn't go anywhere without his muscle. They couldn't have been more than ten feet away when fatso was slapping me around. The pig likes his audience, you see. So . . . what did you do to ‘em?”

“That's a long story for another day,” said Caterwaul as he prepared to go to sleep. “I'm bushed.”

Coy suddenly became seriously concerned. “You know they're gonna come after you, right? By now Lucius Jr. has told his old man what you did to him, and the whole family will be out looking for you. The family doesn't like it when outsiders mess with their action or their people. If I was you, I would leave town quick-like. I'm sure there's already a price on your tail.”

But Caterwaul didn't hear him. He was already out cold, the rigors of the day having taken their toll. He was sound asleep, slipping into dreams of goldfish, scratching posts, and large balls of string. The little cat curled up next to him, and he also fell asleep.

The next morning Caterwaul awoke to the sound of a dog barking. He looked around for Coy, but the little guy was nowhere to be seen. He peered out from beneath the stoop and saw a pair of human legs. They were the legs of a hunter. Running about sniffing the ground was a large hound.

“Sic ‘em, boy,” shouted the man. “Chase those cats outta here. Durn cats are everywhere. They're nothing but a durn nuisance. The whole town's starting to stink. It's turning into a flipping cat box.” Cats scampered away from the onrushing dog. Caterwaul made the man for a hunter. He wore tan linen pants and a deerskin jacket. On his back was a quiver of arrows, and he had a short bow slung over one shoulder. In a sheath on his belt was a large knife.

Caterwaul remained hidden until the hunter and his beast were out of sight and then started down the road in the opposite direction. He continued to look for the white female cat for most of the day but had no luck. He was trying to stay inconspicuous. He was thinking about what Coy had said about the Felinos. There was no sense in taking any unnecessary risks.

While he was looking, he spotted a grove containing three more sycamore trees. Glancing around underneath the canopy, he noted that their seed pods were more mature than those of the tree down at the blacksmith's. He searched the ground and found five pods ready to release their seeds. “Thank you, Mrs. Sycamore, for your generous gift. These ought to come in handy.” He stripped the seeds from the pod into a piece of paper he found lying on the ground and put them into his pack for safekeeping.

Several long hours later, Caterwaul was ready to give up and move on to the next village. Just then, he glanced down an alleyway and noticed a cat rummaging through some garbage. He appeared to be quite hungry. His body was a pale gray, and he had deep-blue eyes. His paw markings were considerably lighter than the rest of him, and this gave the impression that he was wearing little white boots. On his head was a cap that looked like one the foreign sailors wear, only smaller, like it had been taken off a child's doll.

Caterwaul thought the fellow looked funny in his sailor's cap. “Ahoy there, mate,” he shouted jokingly as he approached the trash bin. “I am Caterwaul, and I'm new in town. I was wondering if you could tell me where I might be able to meet some ladies of class?”

“Sure mate, I came in on a ship a few weeks ago. Name's Gerhard, at your service. Would you care for a fish head? They're really quite delicious after they've had a chance to sit in the sun awhile and have been properly seasoned, of course.” In his paw the gray cat held a decaying fish head. The smell was horrendous.

“No thank you, my friend,” said Caterwaul trying not to breathe. “Although I am sure that you are a connoisseur of fish heads,” he swished his paw to chase away the congregating flies. “I'm not particularly hungry. But please, you go ahead and enjoy it.”

“Ladies, eh?” asked the gray cat, getting back to the point as he jumped to the ground. He still held onto the rotten fish head. “There's more than a few in the village, I tell you.” He took a huge bite of his snack. “What're you looking for?”

“Just out for a bit of fun,” said Caterwaul.

“Oh fun, eh?” he laughed. “That might be harder to find. Not much of that around these parts, at least not lately.” As he spoke, he must have allowed a piece of the head to slide down his windpipe because he started choking. He coughed several times as if trying to dislodge a hairball. Caterwaul moved forward to help, but the other cat waved him off as if to say he was all right.

“I'm good,” he said, looking like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. “It appears, my friend, that we have both come to a town that's experiencing a food shortage of sorts.” He hopped toward Caterwaul. “Name's Gerhard,” the cat repeated, offering his outstretched paw. There were fish guts clinging to his fur, and Caterwaul hesitated to grab it.

“Oh sorry, mate,” said Gerhard, shaking the residue from his paw. He again offered it, and this time, since it had much less goo on it, Caterwaul shook.

“I'm Caterwaul,” he said, grasping the grimy paw.

“As it happens, my fine feline friend, I too have been drawn here by the lure of the fairer sex. I stowed away on a boat and came here. Now I know what you're thinking. Why would a good-looking geezer like myself, who obviously could have his pick of the litter, so to speak, when it comes to the ladies, need to sneak on board some dodgy watercraft and come all this way to a foreign place in search of love?”

Putting his paw to the side of his mouth, he whispered softly, “I heard that this Harsizzle place was just crawling with females.”

He grabbed up what was left of his fish head. “Sure you don't want any mate?” he asked. “I'm telling you, you don't know what you're missing. It's very tasty. I can't offer you the eyeballs though. I already ate them. I can't help myself. I just love the eyeballs. I always eat them first.” He laughed as he took another mouthful. “It's too bad they only have the two.”

Caterwaul started to wretch. “The females,” he said trying not to vomit. “You were talking about the females.”

Gerhard grinned. There was a tiny piece of rotten fish caught in his teeth. Then he noticed the look of disgust on Caterwaul's face. “Oy,” he asked, “before I say another word, are you a real cat or did you look into one of those bloody mirrors?” he asked.

“No, I am all cat, one of a litter of six,” Caterwaul assured him.

“It's all straight then. I was worried there for a minute. You were acting like a cat on hot bricks, if you know what I mean.”

Caterwaul wasn't quite sure what Gerhard was talking about, but remained silent.

“It appears that quite a few new additions to the species have been caused by mirrors recently. I'm sure you've noticed. That's the reason there's no food. It's a population explosion, and it's totally throwing off the ratio, if you know what I mean.” He winked at Caterwaul. “Not that I've had any trouble scoring, mind you.

“And when it comes to the ladies, my friend, I happen to be quite partial to the big ones,” he continued. “They just look healthy, you know. I like my women to have some meat on their bones, if you know what I mean. Small ankles and a hefty frame, that's good breeding, you know.” Gerhard nibbled a little bit of his fish head. “What kind of girls do you fancy?”

“I am partial to white cats. I mean pure white, the kind with no markings. I have always loved how their coats glimmer in the snow. They really take my breath away. Any chance you have seen any pure-white cats around here?” Caterwaul asked him.

“No, mate. I can't say I have.” He started thinking about how it might be nice to meet a really big all-white cat, and a dreamy smile came over his face.

Caterwaul was disappointed. He thought this Gerhard might have been able to help. It seemed that he would have to continue searching.

“But there's gonna be a mixer up at the old windmill just three days from now. Do you know where that is?” Gerhard sat down and started cleaning himself.

“No, I don't,” replied Caterwaul. “Where is this old windmill?”

“It's up on old man Farrow's farm, about a kilometer northwest of the village. It's a really happening place. They hold these shindigs pretty regularly. Lots of females will be there. It's usually invite-only, but a handsome geezer such as yourself ought to have no problem getting in. If they hold you up, drop my name. I know a few of the folks who are putting on this little soirée.”

He finished cleaning his paws and held them up as if to ask Caterwaul if he had done a thorough enough job. “The birds will be all over you like catnip, trust me. You might even bag you a white one, if you play your cards right.” He turned as if to leave, then looked back toward Caterwaul.

“I believe it starts up around nightfall. You'll be able to hear the music as you get close. One good thing about humans turning into cats is that some of them were musicians before they had four legs. They can't play quite as well as they used to, but the owners of the place get ‘em dirt cheap . . . they work for scraps,” said Gerhard, laughing loudly, overly impressed with his own joke.

“Thank you, Gerhard,” said Caterwaul. “I hope our paths cross again. May we both find what we're looking for.”

“That would be positively electric, my friend,” Gerhard yelled over his shoulder. He hopped down the street in the direction of the river.

Caterwaul was spent. There were still a few more hours left of daylight, but he had run himself ragged scouring the town searching for the white cat. The queen demanded results, but so far he had nothing. He felt that his best chance of success was to attend this party at the old windmill.

Now if he could only stay out of the way of the Felinos until then. He shook his head and smiled nervously. It would be difficult. Still they weren't his biggest worry. He dreaded more what might happen to him if he were to return to the castle empty-handed.

13

A White Cat

C
aterwaul decided it would in his best interests to lay low for a couple of days. After all, he still had plenty of food. All he had to do was stay out of sight. But where was there to hide? He was pretty sure that most of the good spots were probably taken. Plus he worried that the hunter and his dog might return.

He didn't want to follow Gerhard. The sailor cat was heading down toward the riverfront, and that meant Felinos. He decided to make for the old windmill. He might get lucky and find a good spot to hide along the way.

He was glad to find that most of the grass around him was quite high and about to go to seed. This provided him with excellent cover. He looked quite like a panther, stalking, as he moved through it. In a couple of hours, when the sun went down, his black coat would make him nearly invisible.

Up ahead in the distance, Caterwaul heard a loud, shrill, squawking sound. Something out of the ordinary was definitely going on. As he neared the source, he became extra cautious. But he was a cat, after all, and naturally curious. Carefully he edged toward the commotion. Then he saw what was making the racket. Up in a tree, not twenty feet away, was a bird's nest with three hungry babies inside. But it wasn't the chicks that were causing the ruckus. It was the momma. She was swooping down from the sky with the precision of a dive- bomber. On the ground, facing the tree was her target: a solid-white cat.

But was it a female? Caterwaul couldn't tell. It was starting to become dark. He figured the sun would be down very soon, probably within the hour. The momma bird was getting closer to the intruder with each pass. This was no sparrow or chickadee either. It was a starling, and she was angry. The white cat covered its head with its front paws, but brazenly remained. Hunger can sometimes make one brave—or desperately stupid.