Cat Town Part I

Cat Town: Part I

“Tell me not who I was instead tell me who I am. Because who I am is not who I once was.”

Dusk bathed the Town in that colorful orange smell of the ending of the day and the warm arrival of a clear night. A starless night, but clear or so clear. The cars zoomed quietly tired drivers with food in their minds drove calmed as the Sun rays set over the mountains. This was the time when our nightly companions came awake. With their stretched pawns and jaws they crawled their way out of their hiding places. The Kings of the night licked themselves and their supernatural noses captured the essence of their fellow friends and enemies alike. Also, the delicious smell of cooking meat and the opening of trashcans as their human servants deposited the delicious food for the Kings. The offerings for the mighty like gods of old. It was Cat Town after all. The human name of the town did not matter, when there were more felines than humans. A secret that the Kings kept to themselves. It never did any good to expose themselves to humans. A black cat was a black cat, and it did not matter if there were hundreds of different shades of black. Humans all they saw was a lonely black cat and nothing else in the shadows. It worked as mutual benefit for the Kings and the servants. More than three cats in a group was bad for the Kings, that’s why they enforced their laws better than their human servants. The penalty was dead for disobedience. Nothing more nothing less.

Mr. Whiskers with his head lifted sniffed the air, oh yes, dinner was ready he was a fat cat with oily black fur and long whiskers. He kept the name that his Master once gave him. Back then when cats were not Kings or whatever nonsense this new generation cats called themselves. It was a long ago he had lost count it was perhaps three hundred cat years that have passed or something like that. Who kept count when there was delicious food to be had? His old Master with his ashen hair and rheumatic hands that fed him every day and with a pain in his face rubbed Mr. Whiskers’ stomach. It was a time of not so abundant food, and even rats ate each other but it was a happy time for Mr. Whiskers. True love between a human and a cat. He was a firm believer of the old times, but even as an old timer he needed to survive. When had this change from Master to servant come about? Probably in the years he spent crying in the leaky basement surviving in eating small mice and sleeping the rest of the day. When they demolished the house he had been blinded by the intense Sun light that almost burned his eyes. The world had changed. Horses and carriages had been replaced by automatic moving carriages and human men did not longer wear those long hats and the human females wore short skirts revealing too much. The old streets he used to frequent were changed. Construction projects were being erected everywhere and that first night out he had been ambushed by the new cats in town. A group of ten or more cats encircled him and sniffed him from head to toe. Mr. Whiskers still felt weak, and this enormous cats making weird sounds confused him. Finally, the gang cats made way for the leader of the group. A long gray cat with half his whiskers missing smiled and his big fangs showed. Mr. Whiskers felt afraid for the first time in his life and he lowered himself like a coward before the King. The cats around him laughed and the leader put a sharp pawn over Mr. Whiskers’ stomach. “Who are you?” The leader asked.

“Mr. Whiskers, my Lord.”

“Listen to him all proper and stuff.” One of the cats with a missing eye said.

“Shut up. Peacock. You don’t want me to eat another of your eyes.” The gray cat said and pushed his pushed his sharp pawn further into Mr. Whiskers’ stomach. “Listen, when I asked who were you I meant where you come from and what are you doing in my town. I never gave you permission to enter and to have eluded my sentinels and well that is some formidable skill. But no one comes in or out without my leave.”

“I am sorry, my Lord. But I was in this town for a long time.”

“Stop saying ‘my lord,’ and you want to properly address me you can call me ‘majesty’ or whatever title you want. I just hate how ‘lord’ sounds. But if what you said is true how come we never saw you or sniffed your smelly ass before?”

Mr. Whiskers said nothing for a moment, until he felt the sharp nails on his stomach begin to cut into him. It was not good to show weakness before such bullies as these. He knew that much from what the ugly gray cat had said about his companion. Eating an eye of another cat for whatever reason was not a good sign. He needed a perfect lie, and Mr. Whiskers was skillful at that for sure he was. After all his Master was once a magician and Mr. Whiskers was one of the best assistants around. It was time for a performance. He took a deep breath and began to say a few human words. At once the big gray cat jumped up in the air and the others in the circle Mr. Whiskers continued to sing “happy birthday to you.” Of course in that feline sharp meow and meow. But the brute cats did not know this. After all they looked like they never had Masters before and much less a family that often celebrated such things. It was a simple act, but from then on no cat challenged him and he was mostly left alone. Word spread around town and cats ran away from. It did not matter to him. He preferred solitude. But, he soon had his harem of females that liked taking risks and somehow were attracted to him. He did not mind and it seemed that his indifference caused a few fights between his female companions. But his life began turning around. His grief slowly disappeared between the bounties of food and sex.

It was empty love he received from the countless females that wanted his seed. He was asked to speak that human language again and again. To fill his boring nights he invented more words or more to say sounds that he could make with his feline voice cords. He ears dropped in the rooftops when humans ate dinner and when kids left for school. It was better to pick up the different words from houses that had six months old babies, because it was when parents took the time to teach the children simple and easy to sound words. Mr. Whiskers felt weird when he was used as the object to teach the baby who he was. “Cat, CAT, CAT and CAaaT.” But as long as he got his belly rubs and food everything was good. Let the baby learn what a cat is. Even if the others in the other side of the town grew more and more cruel towards humans. But it was nothing like having a faithful Master that took care of you in the good and the bad times. Being a guest cat in some family was never the same. Some grew bored with him and when the baby got to be three or four years old it was time to leave. He hated being dressed in toys clothes and besides there was nothing else to learn from the parents. He would sometimes return when the babies turned into nostalgic teenagers. Never back to the ones that turned aggressive. The nostalgic ones where Mr. Whiskers’ favorite companions. Sometimes he liked to grief for their sake and for the times that were gone. Heartbroken teenagers hugged him tight and Mr. Whisker’s fed on that warm grief. Like a sponge absorbing everything. It was a just payment for having him for those initial years and it was a way to feel like the old times when the relationship between a Master and a cat existed. That’s why he advised a few house cats he met to never let go of their masters, even if the big gray cat tempting offers sounded good. But many fools did not listen to him and ended up in alley way devoured by rats with sharp teeth and long tails.

Mr. Whiskers’ legacy grew more and more. More cats wanted to learn that human sounds that he would do for demonstrations of what he had learned and perhaps to impress young females that lusted after such veteran cat. Mr. Whiskers was never easy with his students even if they were some of his sons or daughters. There was no excuse for slacking or for wasting his time. He right away knew if a student in particular had the genes for what was required. It was not just about effort but it was in the genes as well. The right combination of genes allowed for an easier vocalization and even that required a lot of work. It was a selected group of students that went in excursions with Mr. Whiskers. It was not just about learning from Mr. Whiskers but from humans as well. He tried to instill in his students about the interaction between a Master and them. An interaction that needed to work in order to keep a balance. Presentation was everything as he had learned from his Magician Master. Unwashed cats and full of flea cats were not welcomed in his classes. There was never an excuse for a dirty cat and rude cats were turned around he sent them to Mr. Gray. Of course that big half whiskered cat took everyone. After all laziness and rudeness went hand by hand. But Mr. Whiskers regretted after sometime not having paid that much attention to that part of the town he might had helped the humans, or he would have been killed in the process. It would have been better than how it turned out...