Chapter 5

On the first morning of his new life as a cat, Phileas Fogg woke well before first light. The tomcat he now was stood on all fours and gave his new body a long, luxurious stretch. He hadn't seen himself. He knew that most of his short coat was black, except for the feet, but nothing else.

Rebecca still slept. She was lying on her stomach with her feet tucked under her. The fiery red that parted over her eyes and extended across her back and sides to the tip of her fluffy tail was all that he could see. Last night, he noticed snowy white between the part over her nose, jawline, and neck, extending on through her undercarriage and legs. Rebecca's coat was longer than his, but not quite long or fluffy enough for her to be considered a Persian. Glad to say, she didn't have the flattened face of breed either. Rebecca didn't make a bad-looking cat.

The owner of the pet shop arrived near daybreak. Mrs. Pool was a pleasant-looking woman with heavy black glasses. She went about her work, cheerfully humming.

Phileas said nothing to her when she noticed him, but she seemed to have been told of their presence and background.

"Hello, Mr. Fogg," she said with a smile. "I see you are up bright and early. Give me a bit to take care of business and we will have a friendly chat." She continued humming to herself as she worked.

Phileas watched as she uncovered the birds. As the light of day became brighter, the shop occupants woke and impatiently called out for breakfast. Mrs. Pool fed everyone according to their needs. The songbirds were given seeds. The owls, Phileas shuddered, were given a live mouse each. The frogs and toads were treated to a bag of flies. Where the woman got that, he didn't want to know. There were also some exotic species Fogg couldn't identify mixed in with garden-variety rats, rabbits, and ravens.

The cats were fed after everyone else. They were all treated to kippers. After a noisy breakfast, the woman pulled out a wand from her long-sleeved robe and waved it about. It seemed to collect all the food smells in the room into a glowing ball, which the woman sent flying out the door. It was a welcome trick. The black cat's nose was much more sensitive to smells than it had been when human.

"Now dearies," Mrs. Pool said as she brought their cage to the shop counter. She sat on a tall stool and said, "This is the way it works. The customers come in every day to pick out pets. Because you weren't born cats, I will be careful to steer you to the right sort of people. I suppose you have noticed by now that while you can still understand human speech, you don't understand other cats. That will be your only downfall in this form. That is why I am going to advise you to accept the home I chose for you. Don't run away once you are homed. You have all the inner instincts to use your new bodies, but not the ability to relate to born cats. I will place you together as you are related, but if I think the person is good for you but doesn't want two cats, bow to my judgment. I will have no nonsense. It isn't likely that someone with the ability to converse with you will come along. If they do and want a cat, I will recommend you. Now, questions?"

"Yes," Rebecca said. "How do we get back to normal?"

Mrs. Pool winked at Phileas and laughed. "Gets right to the point, she does. The answer to that is never. Never unless the wizard who changed you into cats changes you back. Only the most powerful wizards and witches can countermand the spells of another, so no talking your new family into it. Anything else?"

"Why did the entrance to this place not open for us when we tried to get out?" Phileas said.

"Because you are muggles," she said. "You have no inborn magic. The gate didn't recognize you. If we didn't code the gate in such a way, muggles would wander in here all the time. And we can't have that now, can we?"

"You were adults before you were transformed," she said, "so you should know history. Muggles and magics don't mix well. The only way to coexist is for us to stay hidden. We have developed a very careful balance over the centuries. Those of us that live out among you are restricted against doing magic except behind closed doors. Those of us who don't want the restriction, live in these hidden districts. Now, if that is all, I will put you back and we can get on with the day."

"One more thing?" Phileas said. "How often do people like us cross your counter?"

It was a serious question, and Mrs. Pool answered solemnly. "Only rarely. You two had the bad luck of nosing into something you didn't understand. Most muggles who come here are invited or come through by accident and are removed without resorting to the law."

"And Mr. Tolliver?" Phileas said, looking at the frog's tank.

Mrs. Pool's expression hardened at that question. "That is a matter of bad-tempered wizards. There are rotten apples in every barrel. He crossed one of ours. Now, that is enough for one day."

She took their cage back to its place and went to the back of the shop.

When she was gone, Rebecca said, "You think we should still try to escape? She is right about other cats. I can't understand a thing when they make noises."

"It doesn't matter if we can converse with other cats." Phileas said. "It is the people we need information from. If we are separated, we may never find each other again. We could end up anywhere."

"What if we are separated?" Rebecca said.

"Then we should try to get back to the cobbler shop," Phileas said. "It is close to this district. We can't go home until we are human again. Passepartout wouldn't know us like this."

Once preliminary plans were made, Phileas and Rebecca settled in for the day. People came and went, taking away animals. Mr. Tolliver was right. Cats seemed to be the favored pick. The exotics were just as popular. Purple toads, orange snails, and a furry ball of a creature called a puffkein seemed in high demand. After lunch, a boy came in looking for a frog. He directed Mrs. Pool to pull out Mr. Tolliver. The frog croaked in pure joy the moment he was taken out of the tank and all the way out of the shop.

Over the hours watching people come and go, the newly formed cats learned a bit about their new bodies. They had to be maintained and required constant attention. Washing their faces after meals was done with little thought. Both cats felt uncomfortable as out-of-place fur itched. Looking about her, Rebecca tried to see where her skirt… ah, coat was rumpled. She found the spot and combed it out straight again. Combing one's hair was, of course, a perfectly natural thing to do. The fact she was using her tongue for the purpose was neither here nor there, and didn't bear thinking about too closely.

Toward closing, a lady with two young children came into the shop. The mother was a blue-eyed lady with black hair wearing a long hoop-skirted blue dress. The boy of nine and the tiny girl of four looked very like their mother. The mother directed them both to the cats despite the boy's obvious wish for a frog.

From her mother's arms, the little girl looked over each cat. "I want that one," and pointed directly at Phileas.

"Hazel, I thought you wanted a kitten?" The girl's mother said.

"Yes, get her to choose a kitten," Phileas said.

Mrs. Pool came around from the counter and sent a hard glare in Phileas's direction before advising her customers. "He is a nice-looking cat," she said to the child. "But you should choose a kitten to grow up with."

"No, no!" the little girl cried. "I want that one! He has pretty white whiskers and wants to be out. He and his sister can come home with us. Please, Mommy. Mommy, please let me have those two!"

Mrs. Pool looked at the child in surprise. "How do you know those two cats are related?" Not to mention which is male and female from this distance, with none of the descriptive parts showing.

"He called to her when I was looking at them," Hazel said. "He wants to come home with me. Let's take him home. Please, please, please?"

If not an exact interpretation, there is no arguing with the girl's instincts. There was nothing Phileas wanted more than to get out of this cage. Little Hazel seemed a bit fuzzy about his and Rebecca's relationship–but maybe not. We did grow up together.

He turned to Rebecca. "Do I really have white whiskers?"

Despite the lack of facial features necessary to do it, Rebecca smiled at him. "Yes, you do, and they are quite striking against your black coat."

Mrs. Pool moved the family to the other side of the shop to purchase food. She came back to the pair alone. "Little Hazel is perfect for you two," she whispered. "I will get her mother to take you both. Behave yourselves, though. The child may not hear you clearly, but she has the gift. She understands you."

The sale was made. Rebecca and Phileas's cage was carried out the door and out of Diagon Alley. Not too far out, thankfully. The Wendell family lived in a townhouse four blocks away.

All windows and doors were secured before the cats were let loose. Hazel caught Rebecca under one arm and Phileas under the other, and dragged them around the entire house, giving them a tour. After that, they were given more practical information, such as whose dish was whose and where the sandbox was.

At that point, they had to sit through the indignity of proving to Mrs. Wendell that they were both box-trained. After that horror, Hazel dragged them upstairs and informed the cats that they would sleep in her room every night.

Rebecca didn't have a problem with that. The child had a beautiful room. A pink satin coverlet spread across her bed to die for.

Completely decorated in pink, Phileas found the room hard to take. It was a girl's room and no place for a male, cat or human. "I will sleep under the bed if you don't mind."

The child giggled. "That will be all right."

He hadn't expected the child to answer. When she left the room at her mother's call, he commented on it to Rebecca. "Mrs. Pool said Hazel wouldn't understand our speech?"

"She said Hazel wouldn't fully understand us," Rebecca said. "Maybe the longer the girl is around us, the more she will pick up? I am wondering if we could enlist Hazel's aid. You think she would let us out if we asked her?"

"Doubtful at present. You heard her mother warning both children not to do that. Hazel is already attached to us. I don't think she would chance us getting lost."

After dinner, Hazel got into trouble. She flew into a tantrum over some toy she shared with her brother. Phileas hadn't been in the room to see the altercation. He had found Mr. Wendell's study and was detoxifying himself of the overly feminine frills of Hazel's room. The smells of leather and good cigars were much more to his liking.

Rebecca called him out of the study to report that Manfred, Hazel's brother, had deliberately pushed Hazel into the outburst. "Manfred had best not do that in my presence again." Rebecca said, ears half-down. "If he does, I may teach him some manners."

Phileas chose not to get caught up in children's squabbles and warned Rebecca to stay out of it, too.

"I know," Rebecca said. "But the outburst lost Hazel her bedtime story; and she was taken to bed early."

"Is that why I haven't been dragged upstairs yet? The girl is too small to be carrying us both around like that. I am going to be suffocated if she keeps that up."

Phileas growled. "I don't like being a cat. I don't want to be a little girl's pet, and I don't want to be here." His front paws worked the carpet as he fumed. Before he would have pulled at his cuffs and coat. In this form, clawing at the floor was nearly as helpful for spending his ire.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed at him. "Phileas, stop clawing the carpet. You are going to get yourself in trouble. If you must, kneed it, like making biscuits."

Phileas pulled his claws in, glancing at Mr. Wendell, who was still sitting in the leather chair by the fire, out of view.

Rebecca sat beside him. "I know you are upset. Try to accept this as a temporary thing. We must bide our time and see this through. Hazel isn't a bad little girl and might be made to help us. She is up in her room alone right now. We should go up to her."

Phileas looked at Rebecca like she had lost her mind. "We will not be the girl's playthings, Rebecca. You aren't her new nanny, either. I say we don't let Hazel get so attached. We don't want her inconsolable when we leave. And another thing, I won't sleep around all those pink satin ruffles. You can tell Hazel I am taking up residence in her father's study, if she asks for me, and if she can understand you."

Phileas marched back to the study, tail straight in the air.

The tension of the argument left the black cat as it walked into the dark paneled room.

I shouldn't have taken that tone with her. It is my fault that we are in trouble. Tomorrow I will have to apologize to her.

The tomcat returned to the corner of the hearthrug near the fire. It was spring, but the nights were still cold. Mr. Wendell liked a warm room. Man after my own heart.

The ginger and white cat determinedly headed up the stairs. Rebecca agreed with Phileas to a point. They shouldn't let the child get too attached to them. But there was no harm in keeping the child company.

That comment about my acting like the girl's new nanny was totally uncalled for.

The door to Hazel's room was partly open for her. Rebecca took a leap up to the bed and sat at the foot. "There you are, Becca." Hazel said, sniffling. She rubbed her face dry and crawled around to lie facing Rebecca. "I hoped you and Phil would come up to me. Is he under the bed now?"

Not expecting to be directly questioned by name, Rebecca was too shocked to answer.

Hazel said, "It is all right. I know you are not real cats. I heard you talking to Phil in the kitchen earlier." She sniffled and reached out, petting Rebecca's shoulder. "He didn't want to come to my home. Phil wants to be a boy again and go back to his home."

Rebecca lay down closer to the child.

Phil and Becca were names they had used as children. Rebecca did sometimes think Phil when she thought of him. Evidently, Phileas did the same with her name. The child was picking up thoughts more than conscious words.

"You understand us every time we talk?"

"Nearly every time," Hazel said. "Mommy didn't give me my story tonight."

"Let me tell you a story," Rebecca offered. "It is a special story about Phil and me."

An idea was forming. If she could get the girl's help to get out and find the information they needed…

She laid a paw on Hazel's cheek. "Once upon a time, there was a man and a woman who were cousins. They were also spies for Queen Victoria," Rebecca said.

"Ooh, really?" Hazel said, suddenly excited.

"Really!"