The cry came out of nowhere, unexpected and surely unwanted. It stopped Ms. Peterson right in her tracks, made the cat turn and look. This was out of the ordinary, so different from just that the average walk outside that she had expected; the rain could have been accounted for, but not this.
With slow, careful steps, she walked between the two buildings, holding her umbrella tightly. The cry seemed to be coming from a cardboard box, and that could not have meant anything good.
Her black paw shook as she reached out and opened the top of the cardboard box. Her heart raced, and the sound of the rain rang in her ears.
Later on, she would call the moment one of the best moments of her life. Her voice would brighten, and a look of nostalgia would pass through her eyes.
"This was when I made my greatest discovery," she would say, waving her paw in the air as she spoke. She would turn to her daughter, who would turn pink with embarrassment. Still, the girl would be happy none the less. "That was the day that I discovered my daughter."
Her words would be one hundred percent true. Though she may have made many amazing discoveries, which benefited both human and cat alike, she would never put them above Penny.
"I am so happy that I found that box." She would frown and look away from whoever she was speaking to. For a moment, all would be silent. "I don't know what would have happened to her if I hadn't, and I despise whoever left her, even if I have never met them. In fact, I hope that I do not."
The small piece of duck tape on the faded purple blanket read "Penny".
"What a pretty name," she commented, reaching down and running her paw through the small girl's blond hair.
The baby's crying had stopped, and she reached up her small arms and tried to reach out towards the cat.
Ms. Peterson chuckled. She reached out and picked up the child, pulling her close to her chest. "We shouldn't stay here, Penny; this isn't a nice place."
The girl gave no protest, only leaning in further to her. By the time that Ms. Peterson had returned to her home, Penny had fallen fast asleep, and hadn't woken again until hours later.
Ms. Peterson was no stranger to court cases; she had studied them, along with many other things, long and hard. When she went in, she walked past the press with pride. They could take all the pictures that they wanted; their flashes would never bother her. All that Ms. Peterson needed was to prove that she was a capable parent - which she most certainly was.
The judge, an elderly looking black woman wearing glasses, looked down to her. The plague on her stand read "Anne B. Willson". "We are here for the case of Ms. Peterson vs. The City of New York. This case, a most unusual and unexpected one, yet one that must be dealt with anyway, is rather important. I know that we have attracted many individuals, but I must remind everyone that despite all the press that this is getting, we are still in a court of law. If anyone dares to try and interrupt this then they will immediately be dealt with by security." Her eyes turned to Ms. Peterson. "I assume that you understand exactly what is going on."
Ms. Peterson straightened her blue tie, then cleared her throat. "Of course, your honor. I need nothing cleared to me; before I came, I made sure to do a quick refresher on the court of law. Knowing your esteemed rank as a public official, I am sure that you too also understand what is going on, and how this will surely effect the future of laws. I am proud today to say that I will help make history - not that I haven't done it before."
Anne sighed. "Please, do not go on any tangents. What matters is what we must get done, and I am sure that you would love for this all to be over quickly." A small smile crossed her lips. "Surely you want to get back to your daughter."
Ms. Peterson nodded. "Yes, I most certainly do."
Anne held up a stack of papers, then pushed her glasses up her nose. "Today, we will be deciding on a question that most never would have even thought to ask. Many young girls have cats throughout their life, but never has a cat had a girl, at least not until now. Ms. Peterson, our cat in question, wants to adopt the young Penny. Her last name is not known, and we have had trouble finding her biological parents." She continued to speak, recounting everything, all of which Ms. Peterson already knew; still, everything had to be said. When she finished, she looked back to the cat. "I presume that you are ready to be a parent."
"Of course, your honor," she responded. "There is nothing that would make me happier."
"And you are certain that you can handle the responsibility, the struggle of raising a child?"
"There is not a single doubt inside of me that I can do this." She smiled. "How hard can it be?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Well," she said, looking back to her papers, "this case has been decided. If a girl can have a cat, then certainly a girl can also have a cat." She banged her gavel. "This case is closed." Anne looked back to Ms. Peterson, and she again smiled. "You have been approved to be a parent."
Ms. Peterson held Penny in her arms, grinning for the cameras, though she hardly noticed them.
"Mommy," Penny said, reaching out a hand towards her.
"Oh no," she said. "You shall call me Ms. Peterson, or in more affectionate terms, only Peterson."
"Mo-Peterson," the baby spoke.
She smiled. "Yes, Mo-Peterson."
It was as wonderful of a name as any.
Emily Dickenson, Maya Angelou, and Cornelia Funke were all wonderful authors, and grew to be some of Ms. Peterson's favorite authors to read to Penny before bed. Of course, Plato, Shakespeare, and Huxley were wonderful as well.
Children could be good for discovery as well. Penny was always curious, ever ready to learn more about history and science. She also showed skill with arts and design, especially towards designing clothing. Her tastes ranged everywhere, and yet she always found herself able to make something pleasing to the eye. Her sculptures and paintings were also wonderful, and tended to make many step back and take another look; they were works that they would never forget.
Everyone seemed to love them. Van Gogh had been pleased with his tribute, and Frida Kahlo said that she had never seen a more beautiful drawing of herself.
"She looks exactly like me," Kahlo had said, holding up the painting. "You never tried to change it or spare any details. Truly, I will cherish this."
She also questioned things upon making new discoveries. Why did children need to learn about the importance of not lying from myths? George Washington cutting down the cherry tree was a lie itself, no matter how well intentioned.
And it was through Penny that Ms. Peterson made her most amazing invention, and one thing that she was sure she never would have made were it not for the help of her daughter: The WABAC.
I adored MPaS and wanted to make a fic for it. This idea came to me and wouldn't let me not write it. I imagine Ms. Peterson as being a black cat who wears a blue tie. Though she is different in appearance to Mr. Peabody, they are similar.
Sherman should come in either the next chapter or the one after that.
