Part 1: A New Form of Usurpation

While cats may be blessed with nine lives, it is still their duty to live out their purpose in each and every one. Those who disregard their gift from the Everlasting Cat are unable to journey to the heaviside layer, and are instead born immediately into their next life; no memories of their past, no experience with the wonders of heaven. Meanwhile, the cats who have faithfully lived by their strongly-held morals and allowed their ethics to guide them, are honored with the ability to choose which cat will get to ascend.

Old Deuteronomy

The Norwegian Forest tom blitzed through the rainy streets and returned to where his colleagues had been waiting for him. It only took one of them to find him out in town and delivery the message, but evidently it would take five or more to confirm the news. "Is it true?" He asked without taking a moment to catch his breath, "Did she deliver?"

"Yes! Another boy!"

Old Deuteronomy brushed past the tabbies and saw his mate lying on the bloody blanket; at her breast was where a small, wriggling kitten was clutched; black and silver markings, eyes squeezed shut. His older brother was nowhere to be found... in fact, where were his other siblings?

"What happened to the rest?"

"Gone." Said a queen calmly. "He's the only one who made it. The rest suffocated." Old Deuteronomy only sighed—this was common among many tribes of cats; the Jellicles were no exception to stillborns or death moments after they touched the world. He moved closer to look upon his little survivor for the first time. His mate was still licking the kitten's fur clean. It was April twenty-fourth the day the Egyptian Mau was born.

She stopped and smiled. "He looks just like us." She moved her arm slightly so that Old Deuteronomy could see; enchanted by the new smell, the kit pulled away from his mother's nipple and tried hard to lift his head up off her paw. His ears were flat against his head, his tail was short and thin, and his eyes were round and puffy. Mraa... Mraaahhh! Already he wanted to greet his father. He tried to climb over his weary mother to reach him, but Old Deuteronomy instead nuzzled him so that he could get used to his scent.

"Oh... look at you." He whispered lovingly as he let the kit press his nose to his. Just as it had been with his first son, it was love at first sight; first smell for the newborn. Myeh... mreh... He rasped and struggled to clutch back onto his mother's chest. Hunger was all he knew. Still, already he was such a consummate singer; Old Deuteronomy could tell. Every time he looked upon a kitten that was his own for the first time, it amazed him. For everything in the world to them was magical and new, but also a danger to their life. It was his duty to protect them; they depended on him to live! The same fascination could not be immediately said for his half-brother. When he came by while both the kit and his mother were resting, Old Deuteronomy greeted him with a firm scowl. "And where were you? You couldn't stay a while and meet your new brother?" The tom kitten said nothing and pranced over to the sleeping duo, where he saw the squirmy infant nestled in their mother's arms; he wheezed in his sleep, still getting air into his lungs.

"Hmph." The ginger cat sneered. "He's ugly."

"You think you looked any better when you had just been born?"

"I'm only teasing my new brother." Said the boy without missing a single beat, though Old Deuteronomy vehemently doubted that. Even if there had been any truth to that statement, it only reinforced how cruel his sense of humor was.

"I want you to be on your best behavior around him; he's fragile."

"You're talking as if I have no sense. Father, of course I'm going to be careful with him." Even when he was putting on his warmest smile and charming tone of voice, Old Deuteronomy knew not to take his words to heart. He was the only one in the world who knew to never trust his own son, and it pained him, but it relieved him to know that as long as he didn't care much to be around the baby, no harm could be done should he become busy with other duties. For now, all that came first was his little kitten—in fact, all of the Jellicles were eager to meet him.

—

Before long, Old Deuteronomy's newest son was being praised left and right for his sweet nature and adorable looks, naturally, but the father of two had taken pride in something else about him; something he'd been thinking long and hard about since his wife announced her pregnancy. "He's going to make a fine leader. I just know already there's something serene about him."

She looked at him, surprised. "Isn't it a little early to be thinking about that? He's barely two weeks old."

"It's good to start planning these things early... this is my last life. Someone's got to take the tribe when I'm gone, and you know it can never be Macavity. He's not even enough to go to the heaviside layer."

"I know he has his behavioral issues, but he still has time to outgrow them... we just need to knock some discipline in him!"

"We've tried!" He snapped, "So many times we've tried, and now it's getting tiresome, don't you think?" His wife was used to his changes in temperament; the stress of having another kitten to look after had made his mood swings more turbulent than normal, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. She would not deny that she agreed with him to some extent, but to be able to take care of a tribe was a lot of expectation to place on a two-week old. He was hardly mewing as it was, so when the Hell did the old king plan to start his lectures? Would he read their history to him as bedtime stories? The thought was enough to make her dizzy... actually, she'd been having these dizzy spells not long since she gave birth. More often than not, she was lying on her pillow when she wasn't tending to the kit. Such a fusser he was; sleeping through the night was impossible since he was always in such a need to feed. If not that, then he just wanted to be held. Macavity had been fussy too, from what Old Deuteronomy told her, but he wasn't a snuggle-kitten like this one was.

Sometimes, of course, it would be something happening in the city that would rouse the baby and scare it to tears. An ambulance driving by, dogs barking, or Big Ben chiming his mighty bell, which was hellish since this always happened at the worst possible times for the parents. Lucky for them, the kit got used to the ever-present noises of the world and stopped reacting to them altogether. His fear and annoyance was replaced by indifference and comfort; he liked the sounds of the city—it reminded him that he was never alone, that there was always someone or something nearby. His mother was able to get back on her feet somedays and help the kitten get some exercise; she'd playfully chase him around the abode. The silly boy he was, he'd often stop to make sure she was keeping up, only to speed off again with a joyful giggle, "My goodness! You're gonna be a cheetah when you grow up!" This was no exaggeration; he was a fast feline. It wasn't just her older age catching up to her; at three weeks, the Egyptian Mau kitten could already reach up to nineteen kilometers per hour... and he would only get faster!

It was her luck that the kitten was so active and eager to explore, of course. She worried how much time she would have left with him with her deteriorating state; such a long life she'd lived, so little time left to enjoy it. Her only kitten would barely remember her, if at all, by the time she passed. Just one more life, she pleaded, one more she could come back to so she could see her son again... even Macavity she'd like to see come to his senses and grow into a fine young tom. If he could just show her that he was capable of being a loving son and brother, then she could forgive him for all of his past sins... or at least let him start anew. Old Deuteronomy was less understanding... though, considering his most recent atrocity that had been the final straw for the old cat, it was hard to blame him... she wondered, however, how her own son would turn out, for it would be impossible for her to ever know.

Munkustrap

"Old Deuteronomy is dead... Long live our beloved king. May his ninth and final journey to the heaviside layer be a peaceful one." Said Coricopat with a heavy heart. He stepped down from the funeral pyre where the grieving Jellicles awaited him. The fire had yet to be lit. Before anything more could be done, the cats must sing. It was the only way Jellicles knew how to express their deepest emotions. They sang the song of their precious leader. Their last farewell.

Old Deuteronomy's lived a long time
He's a cat who has lived many lives in succession
He was famous in Proverb and famous in rhyme
A long while before Queen Victoria's accession
Old Deuteronomy's buried nine wives
And more I am tempted to say ninety-nine
And his numerous progeny prospers and thrives
And the village is proud of him in his decline
At the sight of that placid and bland physiognomy
When he sits in the sun on the vicarage wall
The oldest inhabitant croaks

All but two young toms sang; they were his own sons. Munkustrap and the Maine Coon, Rum Tum Tugger, were in each other's arms, far too distraught to utter a single verse. Tugger's throat had gone raw, while Munkustrap found it impossible to sing properly through the tears; his own wails were stifled by his brother's shoulder. The tuxedo kitten, Mr. Mistoffelees, was helped up to the pyre where it was lit aflame. Old Deuteronomy's final wish would be fulfilled, and this would be the last time any of the Jellicles would have with him... in spirit and body. Munkustrap slowly lifted his head up from Tugger's hold; through a blurry, tear-filled line of sight could he see the flames growing and the smoke beginning to rise. Tiny embers danced across the sky. He might not have gotten to live a full final life, but at least in death his spirit could be carried up to the stars with ease.

Someone started coughing; how couldn't they? It was impossible to not have some repercussion from all the smoke in the air, but the wheezing became louder and Munkustrap could not identify the source. No one else seemed to be aware. Who on earth could be suffering so?

Over the hacking and sputtering, a voice called from the darkness, "Munkustrap... Munkustrap!" It was his father's voice, but how? He'd died instantly from his wounds! He pulled away from his brother and stepped closer to the pyre, "My boys—" He choked and struggled, "Are you there?" How could this be? He was still alive and now they were watching him burn to smithereens. Did no one else hear him?

"Dad!" He cried, "I'm coming!" He shoved through the crowd in a delirious panic; here was another chance to save his life, but no one was helping him. "Stop! Put out the fire! He's still alive!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, but the cats all stood in a still daze; there seemed to be more of them than he remembered. The raging heat of the fire burned against his skin and fur as he neared the pyre, but his vision was clouded by smoke and all he could see were floating embers.

"Why...? Why did you do this to me?" Old Deuteronomy begged; smoke filled his throat and lungs and he ceased to breathe. Not even one more attempt to cling to life as he gagged on the air. I'm sorry! Munkustrap was trying to say, I'm so sorry! But he was blinded by the thick, black smoke that swallowed his father whole and drowned them both into a pit of darkness; he could still hear his father pleading for his aid. The next thing the tabby knew was that he was flinging himself upright; a desperate scream lodged in his throat, shivering all over.

He gasped for air as he looked around in a feeble attempt to remember where he was. His breaths were heavy and shallow, his heart thumped against his chest. When he knelt his head over, he felt the body of a young queen brush up against his side. He'd forgotten that he wasn't alone. Rising up behind him, Demeter brushed a paw across his cheek. "Munkustrap? What's wrong?"

He took another sip of the air and shook his head. "Nothing. I'm all right." He rasped quietly. Demeter was hardly persuaded. She stroked his shoulder gently.

"Did the nightmares come back?" She asked already knowing the answer; it had been six months since the funeral, and the suffering had shown no signs of abating. For a period of time, he had seemed all right. He was able to smile and be playful, and not a single night did he show distress when he slept. The sudden return wasn't surprising to her at all. Munkustrap didn't reply; his body language could only indicate shame and guilt. "Do you want to talk about it?" He swiped at his forehead and cleared his throat.

"No. I'm okay. Really." He looked into her eyes to try and prove his sincerity, but Demeter knew him better than that. She lied him back down and rested her forehead against his. "Did I wake you up?"

"Don't worry about that."

"But you need your rest."

"So do you... I hate seeing you upset." Munkustrap gazed at her eyes until he looked down towards her belly... four weeks now. Her kitten bump still surprised him whenever he caught a glimpse of it; she was the tiniest pregnant queen he'd ever seen, and seeing her carry their litter of four or five only brought him ease instead of worry. She took his paw and placed it over her full womb. She softly grinned as they both felt for that slight quiver of their kittens fumbling around inside.

"You know, they'll eventually start asking about their grandparents... When do you think we should tell them about your father?"

"We'll both know." Munkustrap said. "When the time is right, we'll know." Demeter could not but trust him—she knew that parents had a special intuition of their own... even with the bumps along the way, she could feel that they would know what they were doing. Munkustrap knew his kittens wouldn't live a life without a mother; Demeter was young and healthy. Old Deuteronomy's wives were older when they had him and Tugger; the more conservative tom had waited long before he was ready to produce heirs... Munkustrap did not mate solely for heirs. He wanted a family of his own to love and cherish.

Demeter kissed his forehead, "I love you... Get some sleep." Munkustrap was already in a drowsy state as she'd said so. It wouldn't be difficult for him to abide as his lids drooped and his consciousness slipped away.