I Hate Rain
The Story of A Tortoiseshell Kitten
Phoebe hated rain. Unfailingly, she scrambled to find a hiding place as soon as she felt the tiniest drop. But she could never have known of the adventures that this seemingly insignificant habit would bring her.
She was a small kitten, with a glossy tortoiseshell-and-white coat and bright green eyes. She rubbed some water off her little pink button nose and squinted up at the stormy sky, from which she'd shielded herself underneath an awning.
Oh, if only Grizabella hadn't gone away, she thought gloomily. She could always think of games to play on rainy days.
Phoebe, as anyone could've guessed if they'd been able to hear this thought, was an orphan. She'd never known any parents of any sort. They only thing close to a mother she'd ever known was the kindly old queen named Grizabella. Grizabella had taken care of her for only a few months before she'd disappeared without a trace, leaving Phoebe alone to take care of herself. Phoebe, however, didn't mind this turn of events. She rather liked the idea of being a "big kitten" and taking care of herself. But because Phoebe didn't have a permanent home, she had to wander around a lot. Because of this, her friendships never lasted more than a few hours. And because of this, Phoebe was often lonely.
As she stared impatiently up at the sky, waiting for it to stop raining, she felt a paw touch her tail.
"Hey!" she shouted at the top of her voice. She jumped up and turned to find a tom sitting behind her. He seemed to be just a bit older than Phoebe, and he had a brown base coat with little gray spots and stripes, and friendly-looking blue eyes.
"Just what did you think you were doing?" Phoebe asked irately.
"Sorry…I thought your tail was a mouse," said the tom.
Phoebe glared at him.
"Well, you're a crabby little kitten, aren't you?" said the tom. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Who cares?" Phoebe replied. "Now go away. You're annoying me."
The tom rolled his eyes and stretched sleepily. "It just so happens that I always come here at lunchtime. The owner of this bakery sometimes feeds me scraps."
"But…what does that have to do with anything?" Phoebe asked, growing increasingly cross with the tom. The tom shrugged.
"It just means that I'm not going to be the one leaving," he said.
"Oh, and so you expect me to go out there…in the…in the rain?" Phoebe asked. The tom laughed.
"What's wrong with a little rain?" he asked. "It never killed anyone."
"You get wet in the rain!" said Phoebe in surprise. Didn't this tom know anything?
"So?" the tom asked. "You're a funny kitten. What's your name?"
Phoebe decided to tell the tom her name. He didn't seem dangerous. Only annoying. "My name's Phoebe. What's yours?"
"Samuel," said the tom. "But most cats call me Sammy."
"Samuel…" Phoebe pondered the name for a moment. "It doesn't fit you very well," she concluded.
"Well, I didn't name myself, you know." Samuel laughed. "Gosh, did you get up on the wrong side of the bed. What's eating you, Phoebe?"
Phoebe glared out at the pouring rain. "I hate rain!" she said. Samuel laughed and stretched again.
"Like I said, it never killed anybody," he told her. "Chill out. Take a nap or something."
"I do not like naps any more than I like rain," Phoebe told him. "Only little kittens take naps."
"I love naps," said Samuel. "In fact, I think I'm ready to take one now."
Phoebe sighed and sat down next to him, seeing as there wasn't anything better to do until the rain stopped. "Where do you live, Samuel?"
"Well…I live at this old abandoned warehouse with all Macavity's other agents," said Samuel.
"Who's Macavity?" Phoebe wanted to know.
"I don't really know…I just know he's my boss and I have to do what he says," said Samuel. "I don't really care about much more than that, because he never tells me to do much of anything, so I've never bothered to ask."
"Are his agents all toms?" Phoebe asked.
"No, there's some queens," said Samuel. "Not many though."
"Are the agents nice?" Phoebe asked.
"Oh yes, they're always nice to me," said Samuel. "But sometimes it depends."
"On what?" Phoebe asked.
"On how well you listen to Macavity," said Samuel. "If you don't listen to him, you get in trouble. But it is his lair, and so I suppose it makes sense that we ought to listen to him."
"I don't think I'd like it there very much," Phoebe reflected.
"Oh no?" Samuel asked. "Not even if your only other option was out in the rain?"
Phoebe growled and punched Samuel's arm playfully.
They were best friends from that day forward.