Mungojerrie knew this place like the back of his paw—the alley behind The Tomb that the sun never reached. On either side were the red brick walls of once large and impressive homes, now tenaments. The raucous sounds of humans, mostly men, came from the rear quarters of the club at any hour of the day or night. The cat shook his head in tolerant amusement at the debauchery, then looked at his companion.
Rumpleteazer wasn't regretting her choice to come to the seedy side of London, but it was still a bit of a shock actually seeing it, hearing it, above all, smelling it.
The water that pooled and spoiled beneath the rusted, broken elbow of the drainage pipe was particularly disgusting. She choked down a gasp when Mungojerrie waded through it. With Bustopher's mutton, dripping cabbage juice and rice pudding held tight in his sharp, white teeth, he beckoned her to follow through a small hole in the wall.
His brown eyes crinkled with an encouraging smile, as he stood to the side for her to make the small jump from the ground level to the floor of the cats' den. Streaks of light, seeping through the floorboards of the establishment above them, were unnecessary for the scotopic pair, except to enhance their attractiveness.
"Do you think they'll like me?" Rumpleteazer asked, her brown/black eyes wide with her nervousness.
"Of course they will," he murmured around the meat. "How could they not?"
He scratched at the panel that hid Macavity and his entourage from Scotland Yard and large dogs alike.
"Why, Mungo," crowed the doorkeeper, Griddlebones, "Where've ye been keepin' yerself, lad?" He lifted the panel to allow the couple access, eyeing Teazer appreciatively.
Surrendering their mutton token, the young tom responded, "I'm stayin' with a family now." He moved to stand between the rangy, mangy brindle cat and pristine Teazer.
"Can't say that I blame ye," chortled Griddlebones with a wink. "A pretty kitty such as this might keep me in one place as well, but why did ye bring her here?"
Why, indeed? the young male asked himself. His natural inclination to impress the fair feline had led him to tell her all about his history with the dangerous and intriguing Macavity and his cohorts. She'd lapped it up like the bowl of cream they shared.
Dipping her head and lifting her long eyelashes, she'd nuzzled and purred, "Oh, Mungojerrie, can we go there some day? I want to see where you grew up, how you lived before you came to me."
He'd grinned devilishly in response. He'd had enough experience to know when a tam (street slang for a young female cat) was finessing him, but never had it been done so charmingly...or successfully.
"I'll take you there," he'd promised under the influence of those eyes, brushing off his concerns about initiation.
Now, however, those misgivings were at the forefront of his mind. He was willing to take any challenge for Rumpleteazer, but would it be enough?
"She'll be fine," Mungojerrie stated firmly. "I'll whip anyone here for her initiation."
"That shouldn't be necessary, mate." A ginger cat hissed, making his usual stealthy appearance. "I'm sure we can devise a more creative way for your friend to...introduce herself to us all."
He lifted one of Rumpleteazer's paws to his chin in a courtly gesture. "You may call me Macavity, my pretty."
She smiled at the Scourge of the Yard. He was tall and thin, his brow deeply lined with thought. The iris and pupil of his eyes seemed to merge in a fathomless blackness. He was quite magnetic. Of course, Teazer was besotted with Mungojerrie, and he was far more attractive than the male who stood before her. Still, she could see where other she-cats would be drawn to him.
"Whatever it is, I'll do it for her," Mungojerrie proclaimed, curling his tail protectively across her back.
Macavity beamed with secret, paternal pride. "You've already proven your capabilities, my boy," he said. "But what can she do?" He leered at the molly, who now met his gaze with her natural boldness, without a flinch or a twitch. "Tell me, princess, have you ever stolen anything?"
The Naming of Cats
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