The next morning Mac felt the need for his tribemates' company even more. The dream of the night before had left him wide-eyed and afraid, all the more so because he'd felt the grey cat's evil power. Such a vivid dream. I need to be close to other cats, he decided. To hear a purr and feel somebody rubbing their cheek glands down my side. That would make him feel better.
The only problem was, he couldn't seem to convince his wretched owner to open the door. She clicked around the kitchen on her high heels, made herself coffee and threw things into her handbag, and ignored him however plaintively he miaowed at her.
"Miaow!" Are you deaf?
"Not now boy, I'm late!" she snapped and turned swiftly back to the living room.
Open the door, human! he seethed. Can't you see I need space? "Mia-AOW!"
"Just wait!" she half-shouted. "I can't hear myself think! Where are my keys?"
Where you always keep them. Down the back of the sofa, Mac thought irritably.
Then he remembered that the bathroom window was propped open. He didn't need to bother her at all, he just needed to hop onto the bath side, then the toilet cistern, then the window sill and slip out of there. But somehow - just somehow, even despite his urgency to leave, this escape route held less appeal to him than getting his owner to open the door for him. Part of his mind puzzled at this - it didn't make sense! But his heart was set on having her open the door for him.
He'd make her do it. And there was one way he knew to force her. It would be undignified, but... He walked over to the back door. He hadn't done this indoors since he was a kitten, but if it made her see sense...
"OH! No, cat, no!" she shreiked and hurried to open the back door. "Go on, do your business out there!"
Feeling vindicated, Mac walked calmly down the garden path, his tail high and proud.
"Filthy cat!"
CATS
Bom had decided to spend the night at the dump but now that the light had faded into the sky, she couldn't help but feel disappointed. She stood for a moment, arched her back and shook. Dew flew off her fur. She sat down again, more revitalised by the scent of the fresh dew-water than by anything she'd seen in the night just passed.
Usually at least a few of the Jellicles hung around the dump to dance or talk. When Bombalurina had been a growing kitten, the mystery of just what the adults did after dark at the dump thrilled her. Once, all she'd known about it was that it made their collar-bells gingle a lot, and she'd lay inside the window of her home listening, tantalised. The truth had turned out to be that the adult Jellicles danced sleeker, less energetic but more seductive dances just for grown-up queens and toms. They curled up together and discussed the best places to find truly luxurious rubbish full of caviar and things containing delicious sweet cream mixed by human chefs. Mistofelees cast intriguing spells. And all together, the night-loving Jellicles would stay until Big Ben chimed six o'clock...
But now, after Bomba's travels, all of that seemed rather... small-time. Away from the Jellicles she'd learned the tigers' ballet and made her own heart race trying to keep up with the snow leopards' warming and impossibly demanding mountain dances. She'd learned how to elevate raw fish found in the dump to delicious and authentic Japanese dishes by a cat beautiful both inside and out, owned by a Japanese restauranteur. She'd been the delerious focus of spells cast by a black panther shaman, spells that left Mistofelees' tricks feeling rather paltry by comparison.
The truth was - and it pained her to admit it - that she'd outgrown the tribe. But where else was a Jellicle to go? None of the places she'd been to were right for her to stay, and Bom knew she was lucky to have been accepted back into the tribe. Grizabella hadn't been so lucky.
I found myself out there, she thought wistfully as she craned her neck to look toward London Zoo. Only to find I can't be myself back at home.
CATS
Whenever she gave little Victoria a wash, Jennyanydots always felt torn between the mumsy warmth of her mothering instincts and a nagging belief that cleaning the kitten was a pointless exercise. However much she licked and wiped at Victoria, however much she scrubbed, the kitten never, ever looked clean. But of course she deserved to be clean, so Jenny took the trouble.
Macavity sauntered around the corner on all fours, his tail sticking straight up and his eyes bright. She caught his gaze and tilted her ears in a gesture of warm greeting.
He noticed and-
Jennyanydots stared in surprise, but she was sure Mac had just wrinkled his nose, frowned and turned loftily away!
Was something the matter?
"Well my dear," she said, eager to distract herself from the upsetting possibility of Mac being irritated with her. He was such a sweet young tom - and too endearingly attractive for it to be true. She put her paws on Victoria's shoulders and turned the kitten gently around to face her. "You're as clean as a new dinner bowl."
Little Victoria looked at her paws and then up at Anydots. She saw the battle going on inside the kitten's head: the awareness that she didn't look clean against the simple desire to be polite and grateful for the grooming. "Thank you aunt Jenny," she said, her voice slightly dull.
At that point Electra came around the car and Jenny gently pushed Victoria's shoulder to send her over. As she did so she looked over at Macavity again. Have I done something to upset him?
CATS
Mistofelees had been warming himself in the sun and doing what he usually wryly called his 'filing': feeling the strands of energy available to him through connections to the local pollicle community and reviewing them. This one the hyperactive poodle at number fourty; this one Bessie; this one the elderly labrador on the corner. I think I'll stop drawing off him soon.
He barely noticed when Macavity took a spot next to him and lay, limbs bunched and paws soft, back exposed to the summer glare.
Neither spoke for a while. Mistofelees because his mind was busy and, although he knew somebody was next to him he didn't want to distract himself and speak. Macavity because he wanted the magic cat to make the first move. He was interested to know about Victoria's state of mind and, although he knew he could ask Misto directly about this, he suspected it would look less suspicous if he were just to stay silent and let Misto talk about whatever he wanted to.
Suspicious? What would there be to be suspicious of?
Either way, something deep in Mac convinced him he would feel very clever if he managed to manipulate Misto into telling him what he wanted to hear without pushing him.
Perhaps it's just an idle mind game, he convinced himself and wrapped his tail around his haunch.
The silence continued. Jennyanydots seemed vaguely aloof as she seated herself on the car bonnet and settled into a spot of crocheting, Electra talked at Victoria about nothing in particular, and his cousin Bombalurina watched the lazy summer scene from a high perch, her red limbs draped as if she had no bones, her expression almost morose with boredom.
"I don't know how to cheer her up," Misto said quietly, so quietly that only Macavity heard. Mac looked at him, and saw the magic cat watching his younger sister.
Macavity considered his first contribution to the discussion. "She doesn't like herself very much."
"No," Misto agreed. "She's such a nice young queen though Mac," he implored, as if begging Macavity to agree with him.
The vaguest seed of an agenda germinated in Mac's mind. Not knowing why it occurred to him but not seeing any reason to fight it, he answered, "Well nice, yes." With the slightest hint that 'nice' was all she had going for her. No outstanding intelligence, grace, beauty or wit, just bland, bland niceness. He didn't look at Misto as he spoke but watched out of the corner of his eye. How will you react to that?
Misto glanced at Mac but said nothing. He sighed, and put his chin on his paws. And like that, he watched his sister for a long time.
CATS
Tugger braced himself in the pet-taxi as the human swung it and put it down. As soon as he felt it touch hard ground he stood up and peered through the bars.
A human he hadn't seen before crouched down and looked through the bars back at him. Hey there buddy. "Well, he's a very handsome cat." He opened the door, reached in and picked Tugger out.
Tugger weighed up whether to do the decent thing and hang there like a picture on a wall, or to struggle and squirm and make a nuisance of himself until the human let him go.
He decided to go vertical and before he knew it, he was on the carpet.
"Hey, careful! You could have got hurt!"
Tugger looked up at the human, miaowed, and trotted away. Humans, he laughed to himself. Now, where do I wanna go? He'd travelled so far that the first thing he wanted to do was check out the neighbourhood. See where he was.
So he found the cat flap and went out.
The front garden was grassy. He could smell insects and mice so there'd be plenty of hunting later. If he felt like it.
"Oy! You're not supposed to be outside, come back!" That was the cue for Tugger to run. So he bolted around the corner, down the street and around a few corners, only half-noticing where he was going.
Somewhere along the way he picked up the scent of stale fish, so calming down he followed it. Turning one more corner he found himself faced with a long concrete track. He went down it. Suddenly he scented something. Cats! Gee, he thought. I haven't met another cat since the San Francisco Best of Breed championships! Encouraged, he trotted on.
His nose took him to a junkyard piled high with... stuff. And suddenly, Tugger wondered where all the bits went that humans threw away. The bags of rubbish they filled every few days? They were here. The fishbones from his meals? They were here. Old tins of paint? Here. Cardboard boxes? Here!
It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. It stank with possibility. There was food here, and there were cats. Not showcats, he guessed, but definitely cats. He saw the way everything was just heaped up. It was a whole playground. I bet they have a great time here!
Tugger jumped up onto the nearest heap and leapt his way from one piece of garbage to another as he scented out the mysterious cats. He leapt on a can of varnish, and then a sheet of metal, and then a roll of carpet.
And then, in a clearing below, he saw them!
TO BE CONTINUED...