Chapter X:
Traditions

The first several days after the kittens' birth were the most stressful. The youngsters constantly needed attending to and hardly ever slept. Catalina couldn't be by their side every minute of the hour, and so Emilio and Ciro had to stay with them whenever she was away, even for a short while, which the kittens did not like one little bit. Though as they grew more and more used to their brother and father's scent, they gradually stopped making such a fuss whenever they came into their care.

Eight days after birth, and Benito's eyes slowly cracked open first, and the day after that, Víctor's finally opened as well, though their ears were not yet erect and wouldn't be for about another week or more.

Ciro had done well in handling the responsibility of taking care of his brothers, and he never once complained when his mother needed his help, but even so, he couldn't help the jealousy he felt at seeing them get all his mother's attention. He kept it to himself, of course, fearing his mother would be ashamed of him if she knew.

Ciro sat alone in the backyard, poking at an anthill with a stick. It was getting to be late in the day, and he figured he'd need to come inside for dinner soon.

Suddenly he heard the backdoor open, but he didn't bother to turn around. "Ah, there you are," he heard his father say.

"Hey," Ciro said with little enthusiasm, ceasing his destruction on the anthill.

"What's the matter?" his father asked as he knelt down beside him.

Ciro shook his head. "You'd be angry if I told you."

Emilio's brow furrowed, but then realization quickly set in. "Let me guess…are you feeling a bit put out by all the attention your brothers are getting?"

Ciro snapped his head around to stare at his father, eyes wide with surprise. "How did you know?"

"Well, son, it's perfectly normal. It was bound to happen sooner or later. But just understand that your brothers require a lot of care right now. Your mother isn't purposely ignoring you."

Ciro nodded.

Emilio put his paw on the younger cat's shoulder. "Come on, I think it's time I told you about something." He nodded for Ciro to follow him, getting up and walking over to the small, stone temple that sat away from the cottage. As they stepped through the archway, Ciro became confused.

"You already showed this to me."

"Si, I told you this temple was built by your great grandfather in your great, great, great grandfather's honor, but I never really told you the entire story behind it all, nor the hat and boots."

"You said they belonged to Grandpa Pedro," replied Ciro, momentarily looking away from his father to stare up at the large painting of his great, great, great grandfather that hung on the stone wall.

"Yes, I know, but there's a lot you don't know."

Ciro looked back over to his father, now curious.

Emilio looked up at the painting this time. "It was this cat who you see in this painting that started a tradition. He came from a family of immigrants; they journeyed here from Spain. As poor as they were, they were unable to look after their children. Your great, great, great grandfather, Pedro, was given to an old miller. For several years, Pedro lived life as a normal house cat, chasing mice and rats and living the life that is expected of a cat. But as time passed, the miller became ill and eventually passed on, leaving Pedro to his youngest son.

"Pedro took it upon himself to help his master obtain great fortune. He sought a pair of leather boots and a hat and found a large sack, which he used to capture vast amounts of game, all of different species. And he took that game and presented it to the king, telling him it had been a gift from his master, who he had given a new name. Not long after this, he concocted a plan for his master to meet the king after having learned that the king and the princess were to be traveling by carriage along the river bank. So Pedro told his master to go bathe in the river." Emilio paused for a second and chuckled. "Of course his master didn't have the faintest idea what he was intending to do.

"Pedro took his master's peasant garb and hid it under a stone, and then when he saw the king's carriage approaching, he started shouting that his master was drowning. After the king's escorts had helped his master out of the river, Pedro informed the king that he had been robbed of his clothing, and so he was presented with new clothes fit for royalty."

Emilio paused again briefly, taking a moment to smile at the clear curiosity and wonderment in the younger cat's eyes.

"Leaving his master with the king and princess, Pedro went out on his own, coming upon a group of peasants working in a field. He had convinced all the peasants in the field to tell the king that said fields belonged to his master if he should ask them who they belong to, and they did. And as he continued on his way, he discovered an impressive castle, which he had heard belonged to a powerful, shape-shifting ogre, who reigned over the land and was feared by all. Pedro actually tricked the ogre into turning into a mouse…and he gobbled him right up."

"Really?" Ciro asked in amazement. Emilio nodded.

"Yes, and the ogre's castle became his master's, who was soon married to the king's daughter. They became great rulers of the land, and Pedro became a well-respected member of their council, always being addressed as the Master Cat. As the years progressed, Pedro took an interest in fencing. He spent months mastering the art, and there came a time when he decided to bid his master farewell and depart on his own adventures. Everywhere he went, he was always referred to as 'The puss in boots'. Along the way he met and fell in love with a lady cat, your great, great, great grandmother, Maria, and settled down with a family. It was on his death bed that his eldest son, Carlos told him he would keep the name, 'Puss In Boots' alive."

"So you carried on the name, too?"

"Yes, I did. I am the fifth. But I retired about a year ago, though I knew there would come a time when I'd need to temporarily come out of retirement. Life is never easy, after all, and drastic times call for drastic measures."

"Why did you stop?"

"Well, Ciro, when I met your mother, things changed. And when you were born, things really changed. I couldn't be out there, running around like a wild cat anymore. I had bigger priorities. But it did feel good to wear the boots again."

Emilio reached down and rubbed the top of his son's head.

"So, how would you like to be the sixth?"

Ciro's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes. It's a tradition, after all."

Ciro's face fell as he looked up at the painting again. "But…everything Grandpa Pedro did was a lie. He just tricked people. Isn't that wrong?"

"Well, son, Grandpa Pedro never used his trickery on those less fortunate. He always believed in helping the less fortunate, and he never saw the world as being black and white. He always tried to bring wealth to those who deserved it, even if it meant through methods that society generally felt were wrong. The great Robin Hood himself sort of adopted Pedro's way of thinking."

"I don't know," Ciro sighed, looking towards the floor. Emilio knelt down and lifted his chin up.

"Listen, son, if it's any conciliation, there's no criteria you have to adhere to in order to carry on this tradition. There's no rules you must follow. Once you dawn the hat and boots, you make the rules. You will be the one who decides how you want to leave your mark in our ancestry."

Ciro's expression became hard as he briefly mulled over his father's words. Emilio gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"So, how about it? Do you want to keep the tradition alive?"

The kitten suddenly cracked a wide grin, eyes brightening. "I do!" he said.

Emilio smiled, rubbing his son's head. "That's my boy."

"When can I do it?"

"Well, I'll need to train you first and teach you the skills you need to know. That'll come later."

Looking back at the painting, Emilio's expression became thoughtful. "You know, even before Pedro's time, our family was no stranger to mischief and sword fights. It's in our blood. Your forefathers were both scoundrels and heroes. How they viewed the world varied through each generation, but one thing they all had in common was the thrill of adventure. There was one cat in our ancestry who holds about as much fame in Spain as Pedro did here, and that was Miguel, Pedro's grandfather.

"Miguel lived in the city, Santiago de Compostela, and he was a renown cat burglar. He had a title of his own back in our homeland: 'Desperado Delgado'." Emilio chuckled. "He didn't wear boots like I did, but he did where a black mask over his eyes and a cape. He'd usually get around by jumping from roof to roof, and usually that cape was the only part of him someone who happened to be looking up managed to see. With each crime, the reward for his capture went up, and it didn't matter if he was caught dead or alive. Though humans viewed him as a pest that needed to be exterminated, he was viewed as a hero among cats, and even dogs and other domesticated animals that were tired of living beneath humans."

"Was he ever captured?"

"Well, he managed to elude authorities for a few years. He married of course, and started a family, but he didn't give up his life of adventure. Of course it became stressful for him, as the authorities weren't just interested in getting him but his family as well, as it was illegal to knowingly harbor a fugitive and not report him, so they were constantly relocating, and they did this for over a year. This was what led to Pedro's family leaving the country. They were constantly being harassed about Miguel's whereabouts and it eventually became too much."

"So…they didn't catch him?"

"I honestly don't know. No one knows. I like to think that he was never caught. I'd like to think that he led those authorities on a wild goose chase for many more years and he probably did."

Emilio paused, reaching up a paw and touching it to the decorative urn placed on the shelf just below the painting. "Oh, and this…This urn hold's your great, great, great grandfather's ashes."

"Ashes?"

"Si, he was cremated."

"What does 'cremated' mean?"

"Well, after a person dies, their remains are burned until they're reduced to ash. Some people keep the ashes, while others take them and spread them somewhere where the deceased individual held some special memory."

Ciro stared at the urn with a rather shocked gaze. Emilio couldn't help but laugh at this. "I know it sounds a bit strange."

There was a faint rustling sound outside, and Emilio peeked his head out of the temple to see the leaves of the surrounding trees curling up, revealing their undersides as they swayed in the wind.

"Well…we better head inside. It looks like a storm's coming," said Emilio, noticing dark clouds slowly moving in. He lifted his son into his arms and started heading back towards the cottage. The wind became stronger as a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

0ooooooo0

Puss was suddenly interrupted as a loud wail commenced from one of the triplets. This seemed to entice the other two, and soon all three were crying at the top of their lungs.

"Somehow I doubt they all dropped a load simultaneously," said Shrek with a grin.

"Nope. I think they're hungry," said Fiona. "I guess we better get them their swamp juice. Is that what you want?" the princess said sweetly to the crying infants. "Are you hungry?" The two ogres stood from their chairs to prepare the bottles for their children. Meanwhile, Puss lifted his arms up and stretched, while Donkey remained sitting on the floor, a rather puzzled look on his face.

"Woah, woah, woah, hold up a minute, time out, back it up!" he said. "Didn't you say something 'bout bein' some cat burglar from Santi-whatchamacallit?"

Puss smirked, lowering his arms. "Ah, you caught that, hmm? You're not as slow as you look."

"Thanks!" Donkey replied with a grin, but then quickly frowned. "Wait…"

Puss went on: "All right, so it wasn't myself but rather one of my forefathers. It's like my father said, the thrill of adventure, the rush of combat…it's in our blood. Whenever my sword clashed with another, I always felt that their spirits were inside me, guiding my movements. Corny as it may sound, I felt like I actually knew them, as though their souls had simply been reincarnated into my body."

Donkey blinked a few times. "Yeeeaaah, okay. Whatever you say, man."

Puss chuckled. "Well, I'm not denying that it sounds a bit loco."

The loud wailing of the infants had quieted immensely as soon as they had been given their bottles. The two adult ogres returned to their chairs, holding their children close as they fed them.

"You know, I really wish I could've met your mom," said Fiona. "She sounded like a little spitfire."

"She was, believe me," replied Puss. "She took a great joy in giving my father a hard time."

"So did you learn how to fight after that, or what?" asked Shrek. Puss shook his head.

"No, I was still too young, and my father was very vague about when he would start teaching me, and it was torture waiting. I was ready to start right then and there, but I had to wait several months."

"I'm curious…was it your grandfather you got the idea from to steal those clothes when I was human?"

"Eh…sort of. After all, Pedro didn't threaten anyone to give his master his clothes, and he didn't use a chatty stallion to stop the carriage, either. But yes, I remembered the story and thought we could try something similar."

Fiona rolled her eyes. "You guys are terrible."

"Well, hey, we didn't have any money. I needed to get clothes somewhere," Shrek replied, grinning at his wife. "They still had their undergarments."

Fiona shook her head but smiled nonetheless. Her expression softened as she noticed the triplets start to drift off to sleep after being fed. "Well, guess we better put them down for their naps."

Shrek and Fiona carried the infants back into the bedroom and put them to bed, hoping they wouldn't wake for at least an hour. They both knew a diaper change was right around the corner. Once they returned to the living room, Puss was able to pick up where he left off.

0ooooooo0

After coming back inside, Ciro made his way into his bedroom and retrieved his ball from the floor. He climbed up onto his bed and lay on his back, throwing the ball into the air and letting it fall back down into his paws. His mind raced with exciting thoughts of swords clashing together in heated battles. Now that his father had planted the thought in his mind, he knew it would probably be the only thing he'd think about from now until he started his training.

The youngster was so grounded in his thoughts that it wasn't until the third time his mother called his name that he finally snapped out of it. His ball slipped from his paws as he sat up to look at her.

"Well, welcome back to Earth," she joked with a pleasant smile. "Come into my bedroom, Ciro. I want to talk to you."

Seeing that his mother was smiling, Ciro really didn't see any reason to fear what was coming. He followed close behind his mother into his parents' bedroom, spotting his siblings sleeping soundly in their wicker basket on the floor. His mother picked him up and sat down on the edge of the bed with him.

"Listen, mijo, your father told me how you were feeling left out because of all the attention your brothers have been getting."

"I'm sorry!" Ciro said quickly, fearing now that his mother would think him selfish.

"Oh, hush," she said, grinning. "I'd be worried if you weren't jealous. Sweetheart, it's perfectly natural for the older child to be a bit jealous when there's a new baby getting all the attention, but it's not because we like them more or think they're cuter."

"I know, Mom," Ciro sighed.

"But…I really haven't been paying any attention to you at all, kittens or no kittens. I've practically ignored you ever since your brothers were born."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. Here in the next week, it'll be time to start weaning your brothers. Nursing is what keeps me so busy. Once they've been weaned, I won't have to tend to them so much. They'll be pretty independent after that. It's just a matter of making sure they don't get into mischief, which I'll still need to count on you for that. Once they're able to start walking, there's no keeping up with them." Catalina smiled a warming smile. "So…catch me up," she said. "How is life treating you? Anything new?"

"Papi told me about the family tradition!" Ciro exclaimed excitedly, beaming at his mother.

"Did he?" she asked with little enthusiasm. "I take it you want to do it?"

"Yep!" the kitten replied, eyes twinkling. His mother sighed, which quickly deflated the youngster's excitement. "What's wrong?"

Catalina tried to force a reassuring smile. "What's wrong is I'm a mother, baby. I just worry for your safety is all. I've known about this tradition ever since I married your father, and I always dreaded the day when it would fall upon one of my kids. I had hoped you'd actually turn it down."

Ciro's frown deepened. "I'll be okay, Mami."

"Well…I just hope you're doing it because you want to and not just to please your father."

"No, I want to! I think it'd be fun!"

The kitten's enthusiastic smile had returned, and his mother couldn't help a smile of her own. As much as she opposed the idea of her oldest child partaking in such a risky tradition, the idea of taking away Ciro's joy was even more unsettling. All she ever wanted was for him to be happy, and never had she seen him so enthusiastic about anything. Who was she to take that away from him? All she could hope for was that he would keep a level head and pay close attention when his father started training him.

"Well, I can't stop you," she said, running a paw over the top of his head. She then lifted him up and sat him down on the floor before getting up and leaving the room. Ciro returned to his bedroom, while Catalina went in search of Emilio, who she found in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of milk.

"Well…you told him, hmm?"

Emilio looked up. "Well, yeah. I figured it was time."

Catalina's eyes narrowed. "I really hope you didn't con him into it."

"Con? You mean like telling him I'll take him out on his first beer run if he does it?"

A look of repulsion struck the female's face. "Oh, I could just slap you!"

Emilio laughed as he had a seat at the table. "Oh, I know you could. Look, I didn't beat him over the head with the idea, or make it sound like he had to do it."

"Bull. You probably had that 'Son, you'll make your father so proud if you do this' tone."

Emilio rolled his eyes. "Look, will you stop being a sore loser?"

"Well forgive me for worrying about my son!" the female snapped as she yanked a chair out from under the table and sat down.

"You're being overprotective," Emilio countered.

"And you're being underprotective."

"Underpro…? What?"

"I happen to believe it's better to care too much than it is to not care at all."

"Oh, so you're suggesting that I don't care about my son?"

Catalina shoved her face in her paws, groaning in frustration. Emilio slid a paw across the table and rubbed her arm soothingly. "Will you just relax?"

"I would if I could."

"He'll be fine. I think he'll turn out to be an even more skilled fighter than me."

"Well, I certainly hope so. No offense."

Author's Note: Thanks for nearly 700 hits, guys! Between this update and the last, this story received almost 100 hits total :D And thanks to QueenSkellington for faving the story!

I now have an account at WordPress, which is a blog site. I created a fanfiction blog to post updates on the progress of my stories and to discuss story ideas. So if people are ever curious about the progress of this story, or why there might be a delay in updates, if one should ever occur, then you can check the blog for details. The link is posted in my profile.

And I finally got Catalina's portrait posted to DA. Get ready to have your corneas set on fire by my terrible artistic skills D8