Number 8 in the Vader's Cat series. (Formerly called Vader and Cat but we decided we liked Vader's Cat better.)
In order they are:
Cracking the Armor
Another Disturbing Crack
Completely Cracked...and the Cat Came Back
Cracking the Death Star
Cracking Imperial Center, or: Cat Goes to Coruscant
Pruneface Cracks, or: Cat vs. Palpatine
Cracking the Dark Lord
Crack to Nature
Cracking His Confidence
A Fleet Full of Crack(pots)
Carbonite Cracks, or: Cat vs. Fett
Cracking His Confidence
Vader was beginning to feel confident as a pet owner. After three years, it seemed to him that he and the cat had finally reached an understanding in regard to such issues as cloak chasing, pestering the Dark Lord while he read, and when it was or was not appropriate for the cat to accompany him. Generally, that understanding was quite simple. Vader would voice his opinion to the cat, fully expecting to be ignored, and the cat, in turn, obliged by disregarding everything he said. That was, of course, unless it wanted his attention, in which case it became suspiciously docile and affectionate.
The loving and demonstrative stage had its problems, too, of course. This was when the cat was most prone to humiliate the Dark Lord. Incessant purring and attempts to cuddle while he was plotting to take over the Empire were bad enough. Worse was the constant nuzzling and rubbing against Vader's helmet, or threading its way back and forth over Vader's shoulders like some sort of feline gymnast on a crossbeam. The worst offense, though, were the constant figure-eights around his feet.
Vader was already top-heavy and found it difficult to keep his balance with claw-like prosthetic feet stuffed into boots with raised heels and pointed toes. The added difficulty of a cat made the simple act of walking into an event of epic proportions, requiring monumental effort in order to keep from landing face down. He considered himself quite fortunate that his luck had held out this long, since he was sure that the day he finally did trip, he would either land on the cat and wind up being clawed to death as punishment or be unable to get up because the cat would seize on this as the perfect opportunity to pounce on his back and roll around in his cloak. He hadn't figured out how he was going to extricate himself from that situation, since he was reasonably certain that anyone who saw him trip wouldn't dare to stay long enough to help him up.
He still asked himself why he endured all of this. The cat did have many admirable qualities—traits which he felt made it a worthy pet for a Sith Lord. However, those things never entirely outweighed the annoying aspects of its presence or the fact that it seemed to be single-mindedly intent upon causing Vader the greatest level of humiliation and distress that it possibly could. Then he Palpatine's allergy attack, and chuckle of wicked satisfaction escaped his mouth grille. For that alone, the animal was worth its weight in salmon.
The cat, who was pretending to be asleep in his lap, looked up at the sound. It tilted its head curiously at him and mewed a soft question. Vader allowed his hand to drift over the sleek feline head and down the soft, curving back.
Yes, he thought. Any being who could so easily dispose of the Emperor is a worthy ally indeed.