It was a quiet sort of evening in the junkyard – even the kittens had succumbed to boredom, their games of tag and pounce-then-run-like-a-maniac having grown old as the night pressed on,
"Jenny, we're bored out of our wits," complained one of the kittens to the exasperated gumbie. The other kittens chimed in with variants of, "Yeah, give us something to do or we'll keep badgering you!"
Jennyanydots sighed – her tail would never be the same, she knew it; didn't kittens ever get tired of jumping on it?
Before Jenny had time to ward off the ravenous kittens, however, a gruff voice called out, making them all jump–
"Been gone fer three bloody years and this's me welcome?"
The speaker, they discovered,was a rather scruffy ginger tabby who had appeared as suddenly as if he'd simply materialized out of thin air. He had crooked whiskers, chewed ears and smelled faintly of salt.
"Cat Morgan! Is it really you? You're back!" Jenny squealed uncharacteristically and ran to meet the tom, who was obviously an old friend.
The old cat chuckled, "Actually, this is me front. But yes, in a manner 'o speaken' I'm 'back'."
"Tired of your ships, are you Morgan? Are you just passing through or here to stay?" inquired Jennyanydots, looking fondly at the old tom. The kittens exchanged confused looks.
"Got me a 'ome up at Bloomsb'ry Square, keepin' the door'n such. Nice place, actually, lotta free fish – should keep me pre-occupied fer the time bein' at least." replied Morgan with a wink.
Sensing a story, the kittens decided that even listening to a nutty old tom's ramblings seemed a good way to pass the time about now. The mob of kittens turned their attention to the mysterious Cat Morgan,
"Ships? What's a ship? Tell us a story!" begged the kitten closest to the old tabby. The other kittens chimed in with variants of, "Yeah, tell us a story or we'll keep badgering you!"
"Kittens!" snapped Jennyanydots, "I'm sure Morgan is very tired from his journey and not up to telling stories to keep you lot occupied! Right Morgan? …Morgan?"
"Arright, arright, if ye insist," said Morgan with a hoarse chuckle, ignoring Jenny. The kittens gathered round, equally ignoring their godmother's continuing protests.
The old ginger tom cleared his throat gruffly, then began after a small pause to make sure all the kittens were paying attention,
"Now this was right when I was a kit'n all, just startin' with my travelin', I was young'n rarin' fer adventure – an' I got it, too, altho' not quite in the way I 'spected. I lived with a 'uman girl an' 'er family by this place they have boats at, called a "duck" or summin' like that - humans and their names, hones'ly - well, anyways, I was chasin' a big 'ol mouse fer me lunch - this was afore pubs, methinks, awful time - an' I chased 'er right into a big 'ol crate, jus' like these," he motioned to the various old boxes lining the junkyard with one grubby paw, "But afore I know it these two human lads, they take the crate an' put the top on with me'n the mouse in it 'n all." he paused to clear his throat again, "Turn'd out I'd gotten meself on a one-way cruise ta Greenlan' - again, 'umans and their names, 'think me whiskers turned to icicles before we even got there.
Me bein' a kit'n all, I 'ad no clue what was up - jus' chasin' a mouse one minute, nex' minute I'm in the middle of t'ocean - luck'ly the cap'n of t'ship foun' me when they was unloadin' the crates an' decided to keep me - you know, keep t'mouses away 'n all, plus I think the poor lad was downright lonely with jus' 'ol sailors t' talk to.
Tha' was the start 'o me travelin' days - oh, 'ow I did miss the 'umans an' me 'ol life back 'ome, but I loved sailin' so very much more."
"Weren't you nervous around all that water?" piped up a small calico queen sitting curled up on one of the crates next to him; Cat Morgan grinned, satisfied at having his 'audience's full attention,
"Oh, yeah, yeah, 'orrably scared at firs' – must 'o tookin' me a week ta gets me sealegs," he said, nodding vigorously, "But as soon's I discover'd the joys 'o sailin' an' the 'igh seas I knew I'd never go back fer nuthin' – fish, straight out of the ocean, mouses so juicy'n plump yer mouth'd start to water at the very thought of'm…an' the best part was that the cap'n actually paid ye to keep the mouses outta the storage room." Cat Morgan smacked his lips exaggeratedly,
"But that's a story fer another night – 'ave to get back to me 'ome at Bloomsb'ry now, 'umans are 'spectin' me afore mornin'. You kits best run along now – sun's rising." Morgan brought his tale to an abrupt and unsatisfactory ending. And, indeed, a pale golden tinge was beginning to appear on the horizon.
The kittens instantly began their uproar of complaints.
Jennyanydots disappeared rather quickly from her spot next to Morgan.