"She'll be back," Munkustrap continued to tell himself as he went about his daily duties. Demeter was more like him than she knew. Yes, she might like a little adventure, who didn't? What she really craved though was love and security, which he could offer. And he could show her excitement right there in the garden, if that's what she wanted. His heart pounded, thinking of the possibilities.
This loss of the lovely gold and black cat had made him realize just how strong his feelings for her actually were. He would show her when she returned. "She'll be back."
In the meantime he had to make accommodations for an unexpected visitor, Old Deuteronomy's great-grandson, the irrepressible Rum Tum Tugger. Munkustrap shook his pewter-colored head as he watched the Tugger lounging under the spreading cherry tree. He was often described as a "curious beast," with his leopard-like crest and leonine mane, and the most irritating combination of finicky and mischievous disposition found in the animal world. But the lady cats loved him and his provocativeness.
"The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore," his traveling companion Mr Mistoffelees would say with feigned intolerance. Currently the small black and white cat was about on the roof or curled up by the fire...who knew? The Tugger claimed that Misto was magical.
Munkustrap tsked as the four kittens from down the lane pranced in front of Deuteronomy's heir. Jemima and Electra were sable-tinted, while flirtatious Etcetera resembled their mother, with her champagne fur and wild markings that refused to conform to a pattern. Pure white and poetic in movement, Victoria appeared the most innocent. The way she and that patchy-haired rex breed from the professor's house, Plato, eyed each other, though, that wouldn't last long.
"Jellylorum needs to take them all in hand," he mentally chastised the harried mother, who had been surprised with this female litter late in life. Munkustrap turned up his nose in uncharacteristic disregard for her plight and stalked the perimeter of the garden's stone walls.
The day was proceeding beautifully, with the roses, delphiniums, and other summer blooms responding to the friendly sun with their brightest colors and biggest petals of the season. But their perfumes only made him think of Demeter and what she might be doing in that horrible, sordid place. He bristled as he continued his reconnaissance, until he spotted the Yorkie, Little Tom Pollicle, at the gate leading to the house.
Munkustrap arched his back, hissed and growled as he approached the small dog. Tom cocked his head in puzzlement. He and the Munk had never been friends, but the feline steward had always been too busy to get riled by his dares and taunts. Now though, he seemed to be spoiling for a fight, grey and black hair standing up like opposing sides in a battle.
"If a fight's what he wants," said Tom, scraping his hind feet and lowering his head with a responding growl, "a fight's what he'll get."
With a tabby's roar, Munkustrap vaulted the distance between him and the red and white terrier, pushing him onto his back. They grappled and snarled, drawing the attention of the Rum Tum Tugger from his indifferent teasing of the kittens. He stood at the edge of the skirmish, spitting and darting forward then back, as if eager to join the fray, but not doing so.
Munkustrap and Tom rolled around in combat, their claws and fangs prominent but fleeting, until Tom yelped and yelped and fled. His tail between his legs, and a few drops of blood on his trail attested to his shame in being bested by a lowly cat. The victor reared on his hind legs, licked his whiskers and clawed the air where his opponent had stood just moments before.
The Tugger leapt in the air in his excitement, nearly landing on little Etcetera, who had been nosing her way around his flanks. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "I never knew you had it in you Munk, old boy."
Munkustrap turned his head so sharply in the direction of the voice that Rum Tum backed away, not wanting to be the next target for the bigger cat and his foul mood.
"Munkustrap," shouted Old Deuteronomy from his spot on the wall. He arthritically hobbled over to the younger animals, shedding clumps of excess hair along the way. His chest still heaving, Munkustrap heeded his mentor and stretched back on his hind legs in a show of respect.
"Did you harm the pollicle?" Deuteronomy asked, settling his groaning body between his caretaker and his descendant.
Munkustrap shook his bowed head. "I only bit; I didn't tear."
Deuteronomy gave a slight nod. He was like a large brown shag rug. The Tugger lived in dread that his unique mane was a small sampling of the great, heavy pelt that he would one day have to carry. He plopped down to preen his currently trim coat. The kittens, all but Victoria, who had disappeared, followed suit.
"Go," Deuteronomy intoned, "Find Demeter and bring her home."
Munkustrap slowly raised his head, a mix of confusion and hope betrayed in his twitching whiskers and popping charcoal eyes.
"We need you, Munkustrap," the senior cat continued, placing a heavy paw on the grey head before him, as if dubbing a knight. "And you need her."
With a grateful nuzzle and exultant meow, Munkustrap jumped to his feet and sped out the gate. He was like a silver bullet. His trajectory was due east, guided by the scent of Bombalurina and Demeter.
The Tugger spoke between licks. "How is that ignorant village cat to find one young feline in the great city of London?"
Deuteronomy looked at his progeny and huffed. "Munkustrap can do anything. What about you?"
Rum Tum Tugger returned to his four legs and wiggled for the benefit of his kitten admirers. "I will do as I do do," he said with a voice rich in conviction. Heading back to the cherry tree, he added, "And there's no doing anything about it."
Deuteronomy sighed after the strutting rascal, and resignedly lumbered back to his sunny spot on the vicarage wall.
a/n Magical Mister Mistoffeles is so long, it had to be split into two parts. Can you recognize the kittens?
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