Okay…I have no idea what possessed me to write this. Even though I like Katnappe, she's never been one of my favorite characters. So…why the fic? I guess it's just that I've seen Chase, Wuya, and Jack portrayed in a sympathetic light, but never Katnappe. So…yeah. Here it is.
Will-blueheron93 does not own Xiaolin Showdown. If she did, there would be more RaiKim! And flying turtles!
Me-For the last time, Will, I'm not doing a Xiaolin Showdown fic with flying turtles.
Will-But…but…we are so cute and huggable! *whimpers*
"Hello, Ashley!" Mrs. Higgens smiled up at me as I walked up the sidewalk towards her patio. Everyone called her a crazy cat lady, because of her many feline companions, but I always liked her.
I had a cat of my own, Bandit, who I always brought with me when I worked in Mrs. Higgens's garden to fill up the volunteer hours required by my school. Mrs. Higgens liked Bandit; she always gave her treats and let her play with the yarn while she crocheted or knitted.
"Hey, Mrs. Higgens," I said, putting Bandit down and slipping on my gardening gloves. Gotto and Danny, two of Mrs. Higgens's tabby cats, ran up to Bandit and started playfully wrestling with him.
"What do you need me to do today?" I chirped. Being at Mrs. Higgens's house always made me feel cheerful. Perhaps it was because of the fact that when I was at her house, I wasn't at mine.
"Would you mind pulling the weeds in my petunia patch, dear?" she asked sweetly. "They're starting to get out of hand."
"Sure thing, Mrs. Higgens."
Dear, she called me. That's what I liked about coming to work with the kind old woman. At her house, I was dear. I wasn't unwanted, like I was at home. I wasn't a trouble maker, like I was at school. I was dear.
"Would you like a glass of lemonade, dear?" Mrs. Higgins eased herself out of her chair and started towards the door.
I smiled. I know it's something everybody says about every sweet old lady, but Mrs. Higgens made the best lemonade. "Sure, Mrs. Higgens. Thanks."
She went inside to grab a pitcher and glasses. While I continued ridding her garden of weeds, I watched one of the calicos, Cookie, stretch herself out on the chair that Mrs. Higgens had previously occupied.
I've always liked cats. You know, I don't think humans have ever fully domesticated cats, like we have with dogs and cows and all those. I don't think we were ever able to take away their instinct to hunt. If you put a house dog, one that's never hunted, out into the wild, it'll most likely die. But a cat, even an indoor one that never had to fend for itself, will probably survive. Cats are self sufficient and independent.
I've always wanted to be like that-never needing anyone, staying with people only when it suited me, but never needing the presence of any of them.
If my mother had been more like a cat, she wouldn't have needed drugs when my father left. She wouldn't have needed anything but her own strength.
"Here's the lemonade, dear. I have cookies too, if you'd like some."
I smiled, took my gloves off, and stood. Another cliché, her cookies were amazing too.
My mother never cooked…
"Do you dance, Ashley?" Mrs. Higgens asked. I knew what was coming. Whenever you visit old people, they always find something about your appearance to compliment. It was probably the only thing about Mrs. Higgens that irked me, I hated being told that I was pretty, because I never could see it.
"No, Mrs. Higgens, I don't dance," I answered, deciding to humor her. She was such a sweet, well-meaning lady. I couldn't not let her have her way.
"You have a dancer's build," she said. "Lithe and graceful, like a cat's."
I stopped mid-cookie-bite. "A cat's?" I mused.
"Yes," she said grinning. "Just like a cat's."
I smiled. Maybe if I looked like a cat, I would act more like one.
"I think you've done enough for today, dear," said Mrs. Higgens. "I'll sign off on your volunteer sheet."
"Thanks," I said, pulling the sheet out of my backpack. "I'll come back tomorrow to get the rest of the hours cleared."
"All right then," Mrs. Higgens scribbled her signature on the bottom of the sheet. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I didn't see Mrs. Higgens the next day, she had a heart attack that night, and died. I remember my hands shaking when I found out, I felt like the world was collapsing, but I couldn't place why. She was a sweet woman, but her death didn't concern me. She wasn't related to me; we didn't even live in the same neighborhood. I had to take a bus to get to her house every weekend.
Then, I received a phone call. Apparently, Mrs. Higgens had mentioned me in her will.
I went to her funeral in a black blouse and pencil skirt. I always hated pencil skirts; they don't give my knees enough room. I barely listened to what was being said, and when they asked if anyone had any final words, I did not step up with her grand children to say any, although in my head I was reciting my final good byes.
After the funeral, all those who had been left something in the will were led by Mrs. Higgens's oldest son to a room in the church. Her son began to read the will aloud. Again, I barely listened, until my name was read.
"And I would like to leave all my precious kitties to Ashley Conner, a sweet young lady who tends to my garden on weekends. That dear child loves cats so, and she only has one. I think she'll like to have them to remember me by."
She had left me her cats.
My mother would never let me keep them. She barely let me keep Bandit. But…those cats…Mrs. Higgens…
I didn't go back to my mother's house after the funeral. Well, I did, but I didn't even look at my mother. I went straight to my room, and began packing. I packed an overnight bag with clothes, granola bars, and bottled water. I contemplated taking Bandit's food, but decided against it. She was a cat-she could fend for herself.
And so could I.
Before I left my home forever, I made one last adjustment to my bag. I replaced all my favorite clothing with black T-shirts and jeans. I decided that from then on, I would wear black, to honor the memory of Mrs. Higgens.
Okay…Yeah, again, no idea where this came from. But it's 11:30 and I'm on a caffeine high, and all my best writing is done when the moon is high and Coke is in my belly, so I have high hopes.
And yeah, I know that Katnappe doesn't always wear black; when she's not in her cat suit she wears pretty regular clothing, but I thought it would be a nice addition anyway. I'm happy with that slight alteration.
Will-See that button down there? It is your friend. You want to press it. *eyes swirl hypnotically* You want to write a review, telling blueheron93 how her story could be better. You want to tell her how to improve her character development and plot. You want to provide constructive criticism. You want it! You will press the button!