For Father's Sake
Author's Note/Disclaimer: This is a Father's Day story containing the characters from T.S. Eliot's poems as well as the musical CATS. So, the characters are copyrighted by them! Also, I didn't have any particular "cast" in mind when I wrote this story, but I did imagine them being British…well I guess I did lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! :)
Fathers, for most creatures, represent a being of security - one who will be there for you in thick and thin, one who will tell you stories and frolic with you in any weather, one who will sit quietly and read his newspaper, gently guiding you to do the right thing through a series of proverbs and moralistic quotes. Though having many different personalities, one thing is fairly certain – your father will not try to eat you.
Not so, for our leading characters in this tale. Indeed, for two young Cats living at Victoria Grove, fathers were never Cats that could be trusted to any large extent. Though they had escaped their father's hungry grip fairly early in kittenhood, regular seeking out of the Lead Tom rarely, if ever, had a silver lining. When one tried to reach out to him, he would determinedly attempt to gobble you whole; and for this reason, these Cats, a boy and a girl, were never ones to celebrate Father's Day with much zeal. In facts, the days leading up to that infamous holiday were filled with wailing and gnashing of teeth.
"We coulda had it all!" the boy Cat, who they call Mungojerrie, cried woefully, roughly brushing away the tears that ran down his fuzzy face away with a scrub of his mangy tail.
"Rollin' in the deep!" his sister, called Rumpleteaser, chimed in emotionally. As you can see, our Cats are not exceptionally original. And so they are forced to recite tender ballads of pain and suffering to fully represent how they feel.
"He had our hearts inside of his hand!"
"And he…he….oh Jerrie, can we wail somethin' else? My snubs is gettin' in the ways of me memorization."
"Oh, what's the use! What we have been given was taken away, and we shan't be able to un-take it a-gayne!" the Tom explained with great feeling accompanied with pacing and a shaking of his paw at the ceiling, for greater effect.
The scene seemed to work, because Rumpleteaser was overcome with such emotion that with a cry to the heavens, she tore off her one precious item – a pearl necklace – and cast it with meaning upon the floor. However, in her moment of distress, she forgot that said necklace was her only article of decency, and so she and Mungojerrie were greatly embarrassed until she could once again put it back on. Then the sad day resumed.
Mungojerrie slowly walked over to the large glass window that bordered the grassy lawn and warm streets outside. It was a rainy, stormy kind of day and each drop of water that fell from the heavens landed with a "plop, plop!" on the window sill. The Tom pressed his face against the cool glass, and gave a sigh of such sorrow that he even distressed himself, causing in his breast a little flutter of a new emotion; anger, he would say it was, or perhaps it was just a pain from that bit of tuna he had nabbed from the Lady of the house earlier that morning. But whatever it was, it changed the little calico Cat's feelings, and left him with the need to feel less sorry for himself and to drag the feelings out of his little sister as well. So he turned around from the sad view outside and said, "Rumpleteaser."
"Oh, cruel, cruel world!"
"Rumpleteaser!"
"I set fire, to the rain!" she began, the entry to her new narrative of mourning.
"Listen to me, you big dope!"
"I ain't a dope you…you…BIGGER DOPE!" Rumpleteaser growled.
Mungojerrie ignored that.
"I think," Mungojerrie began, "that it is time we quit feeling sorry for ourselves."
Rumpleteaser stared at her brother with wide eyes. Tradition was tradition and every Father's Day the two Cats took a day of mourning. Surely he had misspoken…
"But, but," Rumpleteaser stammered. "What do ya mean, Jer? This is what we always do."
Mungojerrie sighed. He scratched his head, and bit his tongue in contemplation. "He's dead, Teaser." Rumpleteaser hung her head. It was true – their father, they heard, had been hit by a car just a few years ago. Now that Rumpleteaser thought about it, mourning a dead father that had tried to eat them as kittens, and also a father who they had never really know, was beginning to seem a bit preposterous.
"All I'm saying is that every single year we throw ourselves a pity party," Mungojerrie said as he sat on the floor, his tail wrapped comfortably around him. "And every year we spend our time thinking more about a Tom who never cared to know us instead of improving ourselves and moving on with our lives. It's a shame, a bloody shame." To Rumpleteaser, the bitterness and anger in her brother's voice reminded her of the great literary heroes, like Sidney Carton in a Tale of Two Cities.
"Oh, Jerrie," she breather, her eyes big as saucers, and watery because of emotion coupled with pride at her brother's heartfelt speech. "What made you think like this?"
"I'm not sure," Mungojerrie pondered, "except it was a feeling deep down in my gut. Perhaps it's what Socrates felt when he discovered he was Socrates."
"Oh, Jerrie, what do we do?" Rumpleteaser cried, throwing her arms around her big brother's neck.
"We should raise something to love," he explained, "and I will be the paterfamilias."
"What can I be to our little one?" Rumpleteaser cried again, overwhelmed with suspense.
"You can be the aunt."
Silence.
"What is it?" Mungojerrie asked.
Rumpleteaser wrinkled her nose. "That seems awfully dull."
"Well what do you want to be?" Mungojerrie prodded, a little injured that his idea, which was brilliant because it came from a great Philosopher, could be so odious to his sister.
"I want to be a father, too!" she announced. And so it was settled.
The two sat in silence for a few minutes, pondering this and that and being overall silent as mice. They chewed on their tails and sat side by side (as Cats generally do) until Rumpleteaser posed a question.
"Where do you get a child, Mungojerrie?"
"Well, when a Mommy Cat and a Daddy Cat really love each other, they -"
"No, stupid!" Rumpleteaser exclaimed, eager to stop the explanation Mungojerrie was about to present her with. "I know how to make babies, but since neither of us have anyone to make one with, how are we going to get one?"
Mungojerrie considered. "I suppose you have to go a-huntin' "
"Where does one a-hunt for one?"
Mungojerrie considered. "I suppose one starts a-huntin' for a child in the first place one a-hunts for anything - under the couch."
Rumpleteaser though this a brilliant idea, so they started immediately; well, not immediately as Rumpleteaser had to get a snack and Mungojerrie wanted to straighten himself up first - after all, if they a-hunted correctly, he would want to make a good first impression with his Flesh and Blood; or rather, his Couch and Blood (he had, after all, had his ear to bleed on this sofa once, so it was all together factual-like).
When they did eventually get started, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser prepared for spelunking - or, at least that's what Mungojerrie remembered diving under the couch to be called. After tying straws to their legs, just in case they were unable to get air at any point, they plunged under the couch.
"I found it!" Rumpleteaser happily yelled.
"Rumpleteaser, don't call my child 'it'."
"Not that! I found my lil' rubber ball!" she announced, and although the ball was filthy with dirt and crumbs, she popped it in her mouth for safe keeping. Mungojerrie grimaced, and then they continued their search.
After much long-suffering from dragging themselves back and forth under the couch, Mungojerrie was defeated. All this searching and nothing he could find needed taking care of.
"I don't think he's here..." he sighed.
"It could be a she, Jerrie," Rumpleteaser corrected him. Mungojerrie, however, knew he would have a boy.
Then all of a sudden, as if by Providence, a little fuzzy creature, grey and lightly floating across the floor, appeared at the edge of the couch.
"My child!" Mungojerrie exclaimed. He rushed over to hug the new addition to the family. But when he took it into his arms, the Child burst into dozens of little pieces.
Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser were horrified.
"You...you..." Rumpleteaser stammered.
"I KILLED HIM!" Mungojerrie wept. Rumpleteaser slowly walked over to investigate the man slaughter and as she peered between her paw (just in case she needed to cover her eyes again quickly), she let out a great breath. This was no child - this was simply a dusty bunny!
"Mungojerrie, you're daft!"
"That's a thing to say to a new father who has just lost his first and only child!"
"It was a dust bunny, you idiot! Look!" She showed him the little pieces of dust in her paws. "We must have stirred it up when we were going back and forth across the floor. We acted as a sort of broom, I suppose."
Mungojerrie rejoiced. "You're brilliant, Teaser!"
Rumpleteaser beamed, the rubber ball protruding her cheek into a round mass.
"Now where do we look?" Mungojerrie asked himself. "I got it! To the Great Outdoors!"
After a little while, the two Cats ran out the front door of the big house, their paws sporadically and quickly placed one in front of the other until they landed on the bright green blades of grass. The stormy skies from earlier had cleared up, and the rain had cooled the atmosphere, leaving a comforting smell that only nature's showers can bring.
The duo separated, Mungojerrie taking the left side of the yard, and Rumpleteaser taking the right. Mungojerrie thought this would guarantee results quicker, as he was beginning to become impatient that he and his sister had not found something to love yet.
They looked under rocks, around corners, behind trees, and in between weeds. They looked on top of tables, and next to lawn gnomes (in fact, Rumpleteaser suggested making the lawn gnome their child, but having a friendly, round, porcelain man as a son made Mungojerrie uneasy). They looked in the bird bath, with the children's lawn toys, and between petals of a flower.
It was only when Rumpleteaser decided to climb a tree that she found the best thing yet.
"HEY JERRIE!" She yelled from the treetops. "Take a look at this - IT'S A MAROON!"
"A WHAT?" Mungojerrie yelled back from the ground.
"A. MUH. ROOOOOOOOOOOOOON!"
"WHAT'S A MUHROON?"
"IT'S A THING WHERE BABIES ARE MADE!"
Mungojerrie paused. "DO YOU MEAN A MUSHROOM?"
"NO!" Rumpleteaser screamed, exasperated. "A MUHROON! THEY ARE LITTLE, AND WEBBY-LIKE, AND BABIES ARE MADE THERE!"
"WHAT KIND OF BABIES?"
"BUG BABIES!" Rumpleteaser yelled, struggling to hold onto the branch she was now dangling from.
"OH!" Mungojerrie exclaimed, enlightened. "DO YOU MEAN A COCOON?"
"A COCONUT?"
"A CUH. COON!"
"ISN'T THAT WHAT I SAID?"
"YOU SAID MAROON!"
"OH! WELL YEAH, A COCOON!"
"BRING IT DOWN HERE, THEN!"
"RIGHT-O!" Rumpleteaser saluted (at the risk of falling out of the tree), and carefully taking the cocoon from the tree and placing it in her mouth, she scurried down the tree trunk.
Rumpleteaser landed with a thump, and dropped the cocoon on the ground. The two stared intently at the little thing, waiting for something to happen.
"It's dead," Rumpleteaser commented.
"SHH," Mungojerrie hushed her. The cocoon jerked and twitched this way and that. The Cats stared in great anticipation. Suddenly, a little creature broke through, emerging through the webbing and whatever else cocoons are made out of; but this was no butterfly. Instead, a spindly green arm had stuck out and was moving from left to right slowly. Then another appendage, this time a leg, poked out. It was green as jade. When the whole bug popped through, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser stared in disgust, mingled with fear. The bug's huge, bulbous eyes stared back at them as if asking, "What did you expect me to be?"
They didn't expect the cocoon to be housing a praying mantis, that's for sure.
"Jerrie…" Rumpleteaser whispered. "I don't think we should raise this thing."
Mungojerrie's face was cast over with disturbance. "Me neither," he admitted. But before the two could make their last decision, the praying mantis sprouted its wings and took off in the air, causing Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser to meow and hiss in panic.
"I DON'T LIKE THIS GAME!" Rumpleteaser cried, frightened beyond belief.
"ME NEITHER!" yelped Mungojerrie again. The Jellicles remained fraidy Cats for a few more minutes, and then took a deep breath.
"Where next, Mungojerrie?" Rumpleteaser finally said.
"The kitchen?" suggested Mungojerrie unsurely.
"That's where I find all my greatest things," Rumpleteaser announced. So that is where they went next.
The kitchen was a wide open space for two small Dats, and just perfect for running around on the floor and getting one's self into all sorts of mischief. Today, however, was no time for fun and games because the two were on a mission. The shining pots and metal spoons were tempting, calling out to the Cats that they should come and remove them from their hooks. But our heroes pressed on, ignoring the wondrous items around them.
"You check the cabinet," Mungojerrie said, "and I'll check the refrigerator."
"Okie-dokie," replied Rumpleteaser, prying the cabinet door open with her paw.
Mungojerrie shook his tail, and then leapt to the countertop, being careful not to hit anything with said tail along the way. The last thing they needed was for the Lady or Man of the house to get suspicious and ruin everything. Mungojerrie then hopped on top of the refrigerator, and with a prayer to the Great Cat, he dove from the top and hung onto the door handle, where he swung himself to the left with all his strength. This popped the door open, and the light inside clicked on. Easy.
Once on the ground, Mungojerrie peered into the refrigerator. The shelves were stocked full of victuals intended to feed the family – bread, milk, orange juice, cheese (more than three kinds!), beans, ham, and…
"Rumpleteaser!"
A terrible crash came from the cupboard. The sudden exclamation from the excited Tom had, apparently, caused Rumpleteaser to land with a thud on the floor, pulling a plastic canister down with her from the countertop.
"Gosh, Jerrie!" Rumpleteaser breathed, her fur standing straight up. "You scared me half to death! Whatcha want?"
"We should raise a chick!" Mungojerrie cried, emerging from behind the counter rolling an egg across the floor gently with his paw.
"Brilliant!" Rumpleteaser agreed, capering across the floor in glee. "I shall make her…or shall you want a him?...more him or her-y with this Sharpie marker!" And the marker was held in the air, regal with importance.
"Make the egg whatever sex you please," Mungojerrie said. "As long as my chick is healthy, I don't rightly care."
So Rumpleteaser, who was without a doubt the more artistic of them, used her tool of choice to give the ivory colored youngster eyes, a mouth, a nose, and a little fluff of hair. Mungojerrie thought this touch added an extraordinary something to the little thing's appearance, but Rumpleteaser was under the impression that her Work of Art caused the babe to look more like a monster than a baby boy. Rumpleteaser had a very good eye for these things, yet Mungojerrie still insisted that this was a perfect face for Mungojerrie Junior.
Later, Mungojerrie (hoping his child would grow strong), found a box and filled it full of fluff such as blankets. After much discussion, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser agreed to take turning sitting on the egg to keep him warm. Mungojerrie had remembered reading once that chicks were sat upon by their mothers so as to warm the embryos inside, ensuring a healthy, fuzzy chick would emerge.
So the Cats took turn sitting upon the egg – Rumpleteaser had the morning shift and Mungojerrie had the evening shift. Yet one evening, after Mungojerrie was supposed to have been awake all night to prevent any heavy sleeping on the egg, he had somehow managed to fall asleep; and when Mungojerrie sleeps, nothing but the natural method of a good night's rest could awake him. Waking up to the sunlight filtering in through the window, he tossed and turned himself into full consciousness and stretched and yawned in utter oblivion to the soft lump and crunchy bits pressing against his back.
He only became aware when he sprung himself on his feet – then when looking down at his paws, horror struck him like a ton of bricks.
"RUMPLETEASER!" Mungojerrie screeched.
Rumpleteaser woke up in a panic. "WHAT WHAT WHAT?"
"I KILLED HIM!"
"KILLED WHO?"
"MUNGOJERRIE JUNIOR!" And he flung his head to the side in distress, Rumpleteaser dumbfounded for a minute.
"You squished him?" she asked, far from delicately.
"He was hard boiled, Rumpleteaser," Mungojerrie mumbled, his face buried in his paws. "It was never going to make a chick. It was only going to make breakfast – it was a regular ol' eatin' egg. Oh!" And Mungojerrie continued to wail. Rumpleteaser though she better let Mungojerrie have time to mourn, and then she could take care of business (like cleaning up the bits of shell, rubbery egg white, and powdery yellow-gray yoke from their Cat bed).
After Mungojerrie had had a good cry, Rumpleteaser began to talk seriously.
"Perhaps we should take a walk, Jer," she said. "It might do you some good."
"I suppose," Mungojerrie sighed. So the two left the place of tragedy and headed out for a calming walk. Rumpleteaser was unsure on how to make her brother feel better, but she knew one thing – walks were of Great Comfort because they give you an opportunity to think, clear your mind, and breathe.
As they walked down the street, towards nowhere in particular, Mungojerrie continually sighed and looked up at the sky. He would pause to scratch his ear and Rumpleteaser would have to wait for him. Neither of them spoke – the silence was enough for them. They thought, and thought, and thought. But neither of them mumbled a single word; that is, until Munkustrap came walking up the sidewalk past them.
"Well hello there, friends!" he exclaimed.
Mungojerrie stared at him moodily. Rumpleteaser shifted on her feet.
"Um," Rumpleteaser began, looking sideways at her brother, "how's it going, Munkustrap?"
Munkustrap looked at Rumpleteaser, than at Mungojerrie who was staring at the ground. Munkustrap blinked.
"Is anything wrong?" he asked.
"Well –" Rumpleteaser began
"What isn't wrong?" Mungojerrie sniffed, and kicked a rock with his little toe.
Munkustrap was beginning to get uneasy himself. He hated dealing with strong emotions, because he was always unsure what to say. All of his girlfriends used to get angry with him because of this; and yet he never got better at it. "Do…" he began, "you need some socks?"
"I need love!" Mungojerrie cried, and then turned away.
Munkustrap's mouth fell open slightly as if he were about to say something, but then it shut just as quickly. Rumpleteaser patted Mungojerrie on his back.
"We've had a rough day," Rumpleteaser explained.
"Well, Mungojerrie," Munkustrap began, "there are plenty of eligible singles around the area who I'm sure would be more than happy to meet you. Maybe we could sign you up for one of those speed dating deals and –"
"Not that kind of love!" Mungojerrie exclaimed. "I have plenty of luck with the ladies. They always want a piece of this." And he looked sadly at the ground.
Munkustrap grimaced at this statement (as did Rumpleteaser). "What love do you need?"
"I need the love of my father!"
"Well…you don't have a father. But you do have a family, Mungojerrie," Munkustrap said.
"Don't."
"Rumpleteaser is your sister," Munkustrap retorted.
"Yeah…"
"And the Cats in this village and all over the world are here for you," Munkustrap continued, "except of course Macavity but he's a mess. My point is, Mungojerrie, we're you're family."
"CAN YOU BE MY FATHER?" Mungojerrie cried in a passion, pulling a face of such utter desperation that Munkustrap actually took a few steps back.
"Um…well…I…" Munkustrap stumbled. "No."
Mungojerrie's face fell.
"But I will buy you breakfast!"
Mungojerrie's face lightened up.
"Breakfast!" Rumpleteaser exclaimed. "Eh, Jerrie, a free meal!"
"Let's get eggs!" Mungojerrie exclaimed happily. He and Rumpleteaser scrambled up the street ahead of Munkustrap, who was quite disturbed at how quickly Mungojerrie forgot his own sorry. He also realized that Mungojerrie didn't understand how strange it was to be eating eggs when Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser's own father had tried to eat them.
"Oh well," Munkustrap murmured, hurrying down the street so he could catch up with the two. "I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."