Old Deuteronomy yawned, twitching his tail. He was curled up in his cushioned wicker cat basket which sat in the corner of his human's room. Rain pounded against the window, and drizzled down the pane. Normally, the old cat hated to stay indoors for the entire day, but he didn't like how water made his coat heavy, and it was much too cold out.
The Jellicle leader's human was still at school, as far as he knew. Deuteronomy considered the girl to be fairly decent, as far as humans went. She was the granddaughter of his original owner, and had taken over his care when her grandmother had been admitted to a nursing home that didn't allow pets.
When Old Deuteronomy had first caught wind that he was being handed over to a teenager, he didn't like the idea at all. When he thought teenager, he thought messy rooms, loud music, vulgar swearing, and late dinners.
This particular teen, however, was what her peers should be modeled after, in the cat's opinion. She was mostly quiet and reserved, preferring to spend her time reading rather than hanging out in skate parks. And she didn't read nonsense books either, good solid literature like Charles Dickens and Louisa Mary Alcott. In fact, the only books she read that Deuteronomy didn't approve of where those by Jack London. He felt that he wrote too much about dogs for his liking.
She was a musician as well as a reader, just like her grandmother. She played the piano, and Old Deuteronomy enjoyed sitting beside her on the bench as she practised classical music and waltzes, as well as a few of the calmer jazz pieces.
The thing Old Deuteronomy liked most about her, however, was that she was respectful. She didn't bow before him and address him as "O Cat", but she did leave treats in his dish and slip him scarps from her supper. She didn't grab him into rib-cracking hugs, or pull his tail. If he rubbed against her legs, she'd lift him into her lap and stroke him between the ears. He loved that, although he hated to admit it. She didn't mind if he slept on top of her laptop while it was charging, either.
The Jellicle leader glanced up at the digital clock on the bedside table. She'd be home any minute now. Probably with an essay due tomorrow that she had forgotten about. Old Deuteronomy tended to think of her as one of the tribe's kittens, who needed to be taught the proper way of doing things.
The door swung open, and the girl walked in, wringing the rain water out of her short black hair. The bottoms of her jeans were soaked; she had most likely stepped in a puddle.
"Hey, Norrington. Wet out, ain't it?"
He gave her a Look that clearly said 'isn't, not ain't'.
"Well, excuse me for not using proper grammar. And don't you give me a lecture on chewing gum, either. It's not like I'm smoking pot or anything. Honestly, Nor, sometimes I don't know if you're my cat or my grandfather."
And if you're not the very image of the Rum Tum Tugger… he thought. He didn't mind being called Norrington all that much; it was the name of one of his original owner's soap opera crushes. Quite embarrassing, really. But he knew he could have gotten stuck with much worse.
"My music lessons were cancelled, so I'm staying home this afternoon. Good thing, too, because I've got a book report due Friday. And I'll get it done in time, so quit shooting me those daggers."
The human could almost tell what her cat was trying to say when he looked at her. His brown eyes were dark but kind, and looked like they could see into her soul. They were also very expressional, and she found that when she talked to him, he almost talked back. Sometimes it wasn't a good thing.
"What did you do all day? Lie around the house?"
Old Deuteronomy yawned. Had a meeting with Munkustrap and Alonzo and possibly stopped a war between the Pollicles and the Jellicles, gave orders to attempt to befriend a neighbouring tribe before they kill us in our sleep, and foiled an attempt by the Rum Tum Tugger to pounce on Mistoffelees, therefore causing the magical cat to accidentally fry him to a cinder. You've really got to start locking the cat flap.
She sighed. "I don't know about you, Norrington. I know that a cat shouldn't do much but sleep at your age, but your paws are muddy every day, and the kitty door's nearly worn off its hinges. Why do I get the feeling you do a lot more than amble to the vicarage?"
You have no idea… he thought sleepily. He honestly wished he could talk to the girl sometimes. She'd probably go into fits of joy if she found out her cat was the leader of a tribe of singing and dancing felines.
"You are one odd beast, Nor, I'll give you that," she muttered, rolling her eyes.
The old cat rose from his basket, stretched, and slowly padded over to her, rubbing against her legs. She sighed and picked him up, gently placing him on the bed before flipping open her laptop and spreading herself out on the bed.
"You're getting old, Norrington. I'll have to remember to get Mum to book a visit with the vet. I know you hate it there, but it's for your own good. Besides, you met your friend there last time, remember?"
How could he not remember? No matter how old he got, Deuteronomy was sure he would never forget the time he happened to meet Munkustrap at the veterinarian's office.
The proud silver tabby had been forced into a pink and purple cat sweater with matching booties by his humans, not to mention a muzzle when he had tried to bite her. He had almost died from mortification when he had been spotted by Old Deuteronomy. The old cat himself had been casual, but once Munk had been hauled into the examination room, he burst into laughter, which his human's mother had mistaken for a coughing fit, which resulted in an extra half hour with the doctor as she checked his throat.
"I've got to do a book report on Anthem by Ayn Rand. That was the one where the person referred to himself as 'We' all of the time. I read that one aloud to you. I remember that because Mum heard me, and that's when she put me in therapy," she said, frowning at the thought.
Deuteronomy gave a small feline smile. His human often read books aloud to him, he quite enjoyed it, although he was perfectly capable of reading them himself, and he had a sneaking suspicion that she knew that. Her mother, however, for some reason felt that literature should be enjoyed only by humans, and had sent her daughter to a course of counselling.
"Hmm, it reflects on what the Holocaust might have turned out like, doesn't it? You should know this, Norrington, you probably lived through it."
The girl was probably joking, but she was right without knowing it. With all of his numerous lives in succession, he could trace his personal history though an encyclopaedia.
She typed for a bit, the old cat spreading out across her legs. She had gotten nearly a page done before there was a knock on her bedroom door. She carefully lifted the heavy cat off of her, and, rubbing her numb calves, answered it.
It was Travis, her cousin. While they were the same age, they were nothing alike. The boy had never read a good book in his life, and he listened to the most improper music, and the louder the better. Old Deuteronomy was not very fond of him, and hadn't been since the day they had met. Travis had been three then, and had tugged his tail, nearly pulling it out.
"Hey, Christie," he said, running a hand through his brown hair. "Wanna come down to the pizza place with everyone?"
"I've got a book report due," she said coldly. She didn't like her cousin much more than her cat did. "Besides, it's raining cats and dogs, unless you haven't noticed."
His gaze drifted to Deuteronomy. "Speaking of cats. Is that thing still living? I thought he threw in the towel years ago. Man, how old is that thing?"
"Twenty-something, I think. And give him a little respect, Travis. He's older than you are, and he deserves it."
"It's a cat, Christine. A small mammal inferior to human beings. They can't think, they can't talk, what good are they? A waste of air if you ask me."
She gritted her teeth, wishing she had the nerve to hit him. "I'm not going anywhere in that weather with those future murderers and cons that you call friends. I'm going to stay home, do my homework, get out of high school before I turn thirty, get a good job, and not live with my parents until the day I die."
He snorted, flopping down on the bed. "You need to loosen up, Chris. You're way too serious for someone your age. For starters, you should get a pet that actually does something," he said matter-of-factly, giving the cat a hard poke.
Old Deuteronomy hissed, and glared at him with a look of pure hatred.
Travis raised his eyebrows. "My god, that thing is freaky."
"One, he is not a thing, he is a cat. Two, if you poke him one more time, I'm going to tell your mom that I caught you doing crack, then I'm going to hide a plastic baggie of chalk powder in your sock drawer."
"Would you calm down? He's so old, he's probably all numb anyway," He grabbed Deuteronomy's tail, giving it a hard, firm yank.
Deuteronomy's paw flew out faster than it had moved in quite a while.
"Ow! God damn it, the thing attacked me! It damn well better have its shots!" he shouted, as red lines appeared where the cat's claws had broken skin.
"You deserved it. Now get the hell out of my room!"
"No way! That thing is crazy! I'm telling your mother to have it put down, or something!"
Christine's hand flew like Deuteronomy's paw had, and she slapped her cousin full on the face, to the surprise of all three of the room's occupants.
"Now get out!"
He glared at her, before stalking out, frowning as the cat gave a final hiss.
She sighed, sitting down on the bed beside Deuteronomy. "I'm really sorry about him, Norrington. I hate him, and you know I do. I wish he'd go bug someone else for a change. I mean, he had absolutely no right to call you inferior. You're probably a lot smarter than most of the people I know, so don't listen to him."
The old cat purred softly as she began to stroke him between the ears. His human had just defended him against one of her own kind, had actually hit him, and then had praised him for intelligence. Could the girl get any better?
"Tell you what, Mum's not home, so there's a clear path to the fridge. I'll get you a dish of cream, and I'm pretty sure there's salmon left over from dinner last night. What do you say?"
Deuteronomy meowed in response, and stiffly rose. Obviously she could.
Christine lifted him into her arms, and walked towards the stairs. "I've really got to get the vet to check out that leg of yours. You've been limping on it, haven't you?"
Later that night, it was still rainy and dark. Christie was on the couch of the rec room outside of her basement bedroom, re-reading her paperback copy of Anthem aloud, while her cat lay by her feet, listening.
He gave a content sigh. His human was really something, for a kid. Respectable, humble, and always willing to slip a little token of esteem his way. He had lived with her for two and a half years now, and she had treated him well the entire time. He decided that it was time to give something back.
Deuteronomy rose, and walked down her leg to sit on her stomach.
She looked up from the book. "What's wrong, Norrington? Your leg bothering you?"
He held out his paw like he would if he was greeting a Jellicle, and gave her a look that he hoped displayed sincerity.
She set down her book. "What do you want? Want me to shake your paw? I thought only dogs had to lower themselves to that level to get attention," She placed her hand out, and put her palm to the cat's paw. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks.
It was a name. Over and over again. Deuteronomy. Deuteronomy. Deuteronomy.
Her eyes shot open, although she hadn't been aware that she had closed them. The cat was still on her stomach, staring at her with a look of knowingness. She put a hand to her head, making sure a fever wasn't causing her to imagine things.
"Deuteronomy… That's your name, isn't it?"
He gave a small nod.
"My god. I don't know what that was, but thanks, Deuteronomy. Is it just me, or does that name really fit you? I'll still have to call you Norrington around my family. I guess your second name will be our secret, huh?"
He gave another nod, and slowly limped back down to the foot of the couch and curled up. He looked back at her as if to say 'Where were we?'.
Christie frowned for a second when she saw the limp in the cat's walk, but it disappeared when she picked the book back up. "I have got to get you to the vet's, Deuteronomy. Now, where were we?"