The Cat Fisherman

Heddlemen Valley was a large open area that closely resembled an ocean, with the flowing hills and blue flowers passing along the wind, and a spring breeze that would blow through, forcing the many flowers up and down again with a crash against the outer sands of yellow grass that surrounded the plains. Occasionally a large mole could be seen swimming through the flowers as a reminder that life did in fact, exist out in that big blue glomp.

Fels shuffled through the yellow crass surrounding the field of flowers and would watch as the blue waves splashed some white flowered foam from underneath onto the shore, before draining back into the undertow of the meadow. A few mantis scattered about along the yellow grass, digging themselves little holes and submerging themselves in the reeds as soon as Fels got closer. One even tried to nip her boot as she strolled through the grass, before giving up on the task to instead burrow beneath the flow.

The smell of freshly grazed ocean was in the air, an odd combination of wet dew and pollen. It floated along to Fels and flew up and away towards a big lighthouse made of a giant plant pot. The lighthouse had one beacon at the top that spun around and around, as vines grew from its clay top down to the bottom where a giant matchbox made up a house. Following a set of stairs was a way up to the house, but also a dock made of mathsticks that stretched out into the sea where an old cat could be seen napping, fishing pole in hand.

Fels recalled her quest, to find yellow flowers for her mum back at the pit. Upon further recollection and investigation, by looking around the very clear blue sea of flowers, there weren't any yellow ones nearby. She decided instead to climb the matchstick stairs to where the old cat was napping up ahead. The dock was mostly intact, with a few holes in the wood from mantis' incessive digging. Some white flowers had grown along the support beams, sprinkled like barnacles where the water had climbed during high wind.

She didn't want to be rude and disturb the old tom cat. With his hair greying and belly round, and a tweed jacket round his paws, he looked very fluffy and huggable. Everyone was huggable, even porcupines, with enough effort. However, she was always told that hugging needed consent, and if you hug people randomly, it was considered saxophone harassment. Fels didn't know what saxophones had to do with hugging, she didn't know how to play, but they must be a little alike she supposed. Unfortunately, since she wasted so much time thinking about hugging woodwind instruments, the cat still was unaware of her presence, and carried on snoring and snoozing, which is less surprising when you consider that's typically what cats do in their free time. However, what a cat was doing in a captain's hat with a fishing pole still seemed out of place.

Fels chose to invest herself in the project of finding out what on the planet was a cat doing here, fishing in a fake ocean. She tiptoed up to him and looked at the fishing pole, its string submerged into the flowers below, with a little bob floating along. She then turned back to the tomcat, whose big orange grey moustache rose and fell with each sleepy breath. It was rude to stare, but it was also too extraneous not to notice. It would be wise to awaken him in a calm and orderly. Unfortunately, Fels was neither of those things, so she instead elected to awaken him to the song of her people.

"WAKE UP!" She leapt up shouting, waving her limbs about like a starfish. The old cat stirred, reluctantly peeling his eyes open, furrowing his eyebrows and letting his green eyes look out over the horizon before finally settling on Fels. He opened his jaw, stretching out his jaw out for a furry yawn that showed his big feline teeth. He reaffirmed his grip on the fishing pole, but leaned forward so he could address the newcomer.

"Yes Yes! I am quite awake!" He shuffled to keep his eyes still open until finally he coughed and recovered his senses. His voice was like reading a book all about making toothpicks. "Oh. I say. What are you doing here young lady?"

"I could say the same for you! Why are you trying to fish at a flower ocean?" Fels shook her head and pointed outward where the sky met the waves, and foam collected up and over. The old pussycat harrumphed, upset he had been awoken following a lovely dream about little red dots he chased when he was but a kitten. But, this young child had been bold enough to not only awaken him from his slumber, but ask why he was here, and it was his duty as an old person to tell the youth what they were doing wrong. First things first, introductions were necessary!

"Now, I'll tell you, but you must know you shouldn't wake up people when they're napping. I am Mousehole. Who are you, and who told you it was alright to disturb people while they were sleeping?" The cat, who is now clarified to be named Mousehole, inquisited. Fels stood by her decision now, just because she could and she was too stubborn to let some old cat tell her what to do. This may be why old cats didn't usually talk to her. Not that she's ever met any old cats before. Or cats that are this size on that same note. However, she reached the conclusion it would be more fruitful for her own wellbeing if she answered the question.

"My name is Fels and I told myself it was ok to wake up people while they were sleeping." She thought the reply suitable. Mousehole on the other hand, did not, and instead rustled his mustache and poffed, "Well, that clears that up then doesn't it?"

Fels was old enough to understand sarcasm. It's not like it was hard to find amongst the masses. That was sarcasm, and living proof she could do it herself. Although being sarcastic was fun, the old cat probably wouldn't take kindly to it. His worldview was rather restricted in that way. Nevertheless, she elected to ask once again, "Why are you fishing in a fake ocean? There aren't any fish!"

"Ah! But that is where you are wrong young lady!" Mousehole corrected her, because that's what old people loved to do. He went into more detail, "All oceans have fish. That's the rule. Eventually this ocean will have fish! And when it does, I'll be right here! Waiting!"

Fels looked into the flowers below, then at the fisherman, then back at the flowers. With a heavy huff, she vocalized her opinion, "THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!"

"Ah. But that is where you are wrong. It makes perfect sense. If it's not there now, and it has never been there, then it will be there eventually! So, I have elected to stay in this one spot all my life waiting for that thing to come. Waiting for my fish to come." He smiled proudly at his lack of accomplishment, and readjusted himself to the fishing pole. Meanwhile, Fels' jaw had hit the floor. She was dumbfounded in disbelief. How could anyone honestly believe that staying in one spot waiting for an opportunity was better than going out and finding that opportunity? It didn't make sense logically, and on a completely different note, fish don't live in flowers!

"It's a field of flowers! You won't find any fish in a spot where fish don't live. You need to get up and find them yourself." Fels burst out, but Mousehole was having none of that. "Now young lady. I'm pretty sure I know more about this than you do. I've been around a lot longer than you."

"But you've been here all your life!"

"Yes." Mousehole affirmed with a nod and a smile. "Now, how about you join me, and I might share some with you when I prove you wrong."

Fels blankly stared at him, then walked away, shaking her head, grumbling to herself, "Stubborn old cat."

"Suit yourself." Mousehole scoffed, returning to his fishing. He would eventually doze off, either due to starvation or out of spite. Fels on the other hand, made her way back down the matchstick stairs down to the yellow grass, kicking a few rocks for good measure and she nearly lost her temper. She really wanted to throw a tantrum. Here was her trying to help her mum and there was that old cat doing nothing but sit around on his butt expecting everything to be handed to him. After a little consideration, she remembered why she went up to talk to the old cat in the first place.

Did she really have to go back up to the dock and ask him where she could find some yellow flowers? He was rude and wouldn't listen to reason because he was too lazy to do anything with his life. Wasn't there anyone else around she could ask? If there was, they weren't nearby. As reluctant as she was to go back and ask, she climbed back up to the fishing dock, back up to the old cat.

Fels didn't know whether it was a relief to see him asleep again or if it was just obnoxious. Either way, he couldn't tell her where to find yellow flowers if he was sleeping. She shook the big fluffy butterball, startling him. Mousehole woke up a lot more annoyed than before, then looked down to see her again, "Young lady. We have got to talk about politeness! Come to your senses have you?"

"No. I wanted to know where I could find some yellow flowers. I don't see any around here." Fels explained. Knowing this guy, he would probably say the grass was yellow enough. While it was a good hunch, the cat answered simply, "I know where you can find some. I'll tell you where..."

"Really? Wh—" Fels asked, only to be interrupted by the Garfield knockoff.

"…as soon as I get my fish." Mousehole finished his sentence with a smug look heavily inspired by himself. Fels wanted to punch him, but she wasn't sure if she had fists under her cloak. She forced a smile through gritted teeth and articulated her words, "There aren't any fish in a flower field."

Mousehole replied with the same smug expression and tone he had taken not moments earlier. He coughed and said, "How unfortunate. Then I guess you'll never find those yellow flowers, hm? Maybe that will teach you younglings that you don't know everything."

Fels fantasized about this cat's death; In vivid detail. She would bring cake to his funeral. She wouldn't even have to blow out the candles because her first wish would already be a reality. She stomped away, kicking the matchbox house as she left. Her toe throbbed but it felt justified. She sat down on the wooden floor, then considered her options. She could give up, sit here and wait for the solution to fall in her lap like Mousehole, or she could do something so he gets a fish. Her intuition was directed to the barnacle flowers growing along the support beams of the dock. The next move was probably a bad idea, but what other choice did she have?

Fels collected the flowers off the supports and some yellow grass and began to knit a fish costume. With delicate grace, she admired her work. If you squinted really hard and poured vinegar over your eyes, it looked like a fish. She wasn't sure fish had that fin on that spot, but Mousehole had already proven himself to have a less than average perception of things. With all the efficiency of how a kid with a long robe would put on a fish costume, Fels donned the outfit. She felt stupid. She probably looked stupid. She was probably being stupid.

Hesitantly, she turned toward the blue waves of flowers and held her breath. Several thoughts went through her head as she dived in, most of them consisted of a mad panic and extreme disbelief that this was what her life had come to. Fels was submerged beneath the waves in an instant and hit the ground with a thud. The flowers were a lot shallower than she had perceived. The pain from diving face-first into the ground was enough affirmation of that. Thankfully she was still short enough to not be visible beneath the flowers, and she moved around the wind current without many problems. It was only then she also came to the realization she wasn't actually underwater, so she didn't have to keep holding her breath.

Beneath the surface of the petals was a world of blue darkness and lots of little molehills. She walked through to find the obvious hook of Mousehole's fishing pole swinging in the wind. The next course of action was to grab it with her mouth. Fels then concluded that this was a really bad idea, and instead elected to slip the hood of her costume onto the hook where it was yanking on her strings.

Mousehole awoke to something tugging at his fishing pole, and woke in a state of shock when he began to reel in the mighty fish. It was a beautiful relief. He had never thought! His fondest dream! His biggest achievement! He knows now what it feels like to have what he had always wanted! Twenty-one years of waiting! And now—Fels stared at him as she dangled from the hook. Mousehole blinked in disbelief, Fels blinked right back. This continued for an awkward minute.

"What are you doing?" Mousehole asked violently, nearly dropping his fishing pole into the flowers below, with Fels along with it. Fels reluctantly asked, "I take it my disguise isn't that great?"

"Disguise? You're scaring away the fishes with that outfit!" Mousehole spat and sputtered, flinging Fels back over to the dock with his pole so he could unhook her from the string. He lectured further, "If someone dumber than me had taken you up then you could have gotten simmered with a variety of veggies! Are you ignorant?"

"I thought maybe you would tell me where the yellow flowers are if you caught a fish." Fels admitted, although she was a little bit in the same place as him. This plan wasn't exactly the most successful nor smart. Innovative and creative maybe, but the execution was poor. This closely resembled many of her plans. Maybe she should talk it over with someone else before trying to fix a dead tree with a rubber band…as a completely random example.

Mousehole slipped the fish costume away from Fels and tossed it into the ocean. After a closer examination of his hand by rubbing his temples, then staring at Fels. The question rose in him like a wave against the shore until he asked, "Did you happen to see any fish while you were down there?"

Fels shook her head and reluctantly admitted, "No. There weren't any fish."

Mousehole set down his fishing pole and turned out over the great big blue. He sighed, and came to the realization he should have made long ago. There were no fish out there. He couldn't get what he wanted by waiting for it to fall in his lap. His whole life had been wasted following a false dream. A lie to himself created by his own laziness. How could he go on knowing this? The only clear answer was to sit down and accept his fate. He wasn't destined to find happiness.

"You know, there weren't any fish down there, but I did see plenty of mole hills and mouse holes." Fels offered, extending her limb, the creases of her robe a pat on the back for Mousehole. The big tabbycat stood up promptly and looked dumbfounded, gawking at the idea.

"Mice you say? I would love that." He was bubbling with excitement. His paws were quivering below his big tummy of lard. He wobbled over to the edge of the dock like a penguin, only to stop when he reached the edge, contemplating his next decision. Yes, there were mice down there, but it would be an awful lot of work to get those mice. Maybe it would just be better if he stayed here and sat down some more, sleeping all day.

It was at this moment Fels ran up and pushed him off the dock onto the flowers below. The foliage broke his fall, but she was still a little concerned she had killed him. The splash that ensued as flowers flew into the air and landed on the dock ad Mousehole was bigger than the old tabby himself. He rose right back up with mice in his hand, and dropped them in his mouth one by one like pastries. The cat let out a great big laugh and grabbed some of the flowers and splashed some onto Fels up above. "I say my lady! I feel like a kitten again!"

Fels was happy for the tomcat, but she still had one very important question that needed answering. She hollered to him as he enjoyed his feast, "Wait. Where can I find yellow flowers?"

Mousehole paw-sed for a second and tried to remember as he slurped up another mouse into his maw. He cleared his throat and pointed onwards towards the shoreline going east. "Head East until you reach Mayfly town. There's a train there that will take you up to Auda City. There's the finest flower shop in the world there. They'll have what you're looking for!"

Fels beamed in delight and smiled at the feline, "Thank you so much!"

"No, thank you M'lady. Best of luck on your adventure." He took off his hat and put it against his chest so he could bow to her; but Fels was already headed down the dock across the shore to this Mayfly Town. She had a destination, and she had no intention of stopping until she found it. The adventure was only just beginning.