The Kitten Files, Season One

by Perry Kirkpatrick

  Contrary to the dream I’d been having about a cat-chasing robot made of kitchen utensils, the only thing I saw was a very sleepy Tommy.

  He was banging around the kitchen getting his coffee.

  My mouth widened in a head-splitting yawn, so I moved to settle back onto my ratty hand towel. I was just not used to staying awake all night with no naps!

  A particularly loud bang made me jump, and I realized sleep was going to be impossible while Tommy was fumbling around pre-coffee.

  I hopped out of my box with the least effort possible. I stretched luxuriously as soon as I landed. My eyes apparently didn’t think being open was a good idea, for every time I tried to blink, it was hard to get them to open again. I could feel another yawn coming on.

  Tommy staggered to the round table in the breakfast nook, clutching a steaming mug of coffee. I joined him, trying not to stagger as well.

  “Hey, Joe,” he muttered, his eyes closed as he hunched over the mug and let the coffee steam waft up over his face. I honestly wasn't sure if he was talking to me or the coffee.

  I jumped up to the table top and eyed the contents of the mug.

  Cats don’t usually do hot beverages, but I wondered if coffee would have the same, magical waking effect on me that it did on Tommy.

  I tiptoed a little closer and sniffed at the steam rising from the cup. It smelled warm and a little —milky?

  I glanced up at Tommy. His eyes were still closed, so I put my face down into the top of the mug for a taste.

  The liquid inside was hotter than I’d expected, making my tongue sting. When I got over the surprise, though, it was a very interesting experience. The coffee was a little bitter, but not too bad. And it most certainly had milk in it.

  Tommy sighed deeply, and I backed away from the mug.

  “Okay,” he said, rubbing his eyes with one hand and then opening them finally. I waited for more of his sentence, but it was apparently just a statement that he agreed to the idea of the day beginning.

  He lifted the mug to his lips and took a long drink. I twitched my ears. Huh. Usually if Keith caught me drinking out of his cup, he’d say something like, “Ew! Cat germs!” and dump it in the kitchen sink.

  With a jolt, I realized I was suddenly wide awake.

  I twitched my ears again.

  Then my nose itched. I scratched at it quickly with my paw.

  Then I saw something move just behind me. I turned and pounced in one smooth motion, but the thing was gone. Ah, that’s because it was behind me again. I turned even faster than before.

  Okay, so it was my own tail.

  A squeal outside distracted me, and I hurtled off the table and clattered behind the mini-blinds to look out the window.

  I looked around twitchily for a moment before I spotted the Chandler kids playing in their front yard again. More snow had fallen overnight—thicker this time—and they were running through the low drifts. I paced back and forth in the windowsill, unable to sit still for some reason.

  I finally noticed why the kids were running and laughing and squealing. One of them had a pair of red mittens, connected by a length of yarn, which they were taking turns dragging through the snow.

  An orange blur followed along behind: chasing, swiping at, and generally playing with the trailing mitten.

  Spitz?!

  My pacing increased in speed, making the mini-blinds rustle noisily, and somewhere behind me, Tommy spoke his longest sentence of the day so far. “What’s gotten into you, Joe?”

  There was no doubt about it, Spitz was playing with a bunch of kids wearing clompy snow boots, and from the looks of it, everyone was having the time of their lives!

  They laughed uproariously when he caught it and rolled to his back to kick the poor red mitten with his hind feet in a pretend-fighting move.

  If I could have, I would have laughed out loud!

  Tommy apparently got tired of the racket I was making in the mini-blinds, because he came and raised them. He looked remarkably more awake since the last time I’d seen him. He must have downed a second cup of coffee already.

  “Huh,” he said, spotting the Chandler kids and Spitz, “looks like they’re having fun!”

  He stood with me at the window for a moment. Then he looked down at me with a puzzled expression. Only then did I realize I’d been lashing it around randomly. “Sometimes I don’t get you, cat,” he said, laughing at my jumpy energy. “But in all honesty, I’m enjoying having you around.” He moved away from the window and continued, talking more to himself than to me, “Yeah, I really like having a cat.”

  Guilt washed over me. I hadn’t told him I wasn’t planning to stay here forever. That I already had a home waiting for me a few blocks away. Of course, I couldn’t tell him. He didn’t need to know I could write.

  Tommy poked a few buttons on his phone, and soon it was playing Christmas carols while he made breakfast.

  Come, thou long expected Jesus,

  born to set thy people free;

  from our fears and sins release us,

  let us find our rest in thee...

  Outside, Mrs. Chandler called to her children. I leaned my head against the glass and tipped my ears forward, listening hard over the music.

  “Come away from the cat, children. We don’t know if he’s friendly or sick or anything.”

  The youngest of the kids protested noisily. “Kitty!”

  “Mom, he’s super nice! Can we keep him? Please, please?” the others begged. She shook her head at them, and they dejectedly joined her on the porch.

  Spitz sat alone in the snowy yard.

  Come on, cat! Don’t give up! Do something!

  After a moment’s hesitation, he jumped up and trotted to the porch where Mrs. Chandler was brushing snow off her children’s coats before shooing them inside.

  Weaving between her ankles, he rubbed his head against her boots.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, for once at a loss for words.

  And though I couldn’t hear it from behind the windowpane, I could imagine the deep friendly purr Spitz must be generating.

  He’d figured it out!

  Ten

  When the house was still and quiet that night, I headed down to the basement. I wondered if there would be anything from Keith. I sort of hoped so, but at the same time I hoped he was busy visiting with friends and family like I’d recommended.

  Perhaps he needed the speech I’d given Spitz.

  Perhaps I did.

  I powered up my phone, thinking about what I would do if the news from the scientists tomorrow wasn’t good. I wanted to go home, and I certainly didn’t want Keith to be alone for Christmas.

  There had to be a way even if they were still looking for me. Perhaps I could dye my fur...

  Hopefully I was just borrowing trouble.

  My messaging app showed that I had one new text from Keith. Was it news that he’d skipped town and headed to visit his family in the country?

  Or perhaps he and Ms. Thornblood were going to a Christmas concert together?

  I opened it.

  Got a call from that lady with all the cats. She & her mailman R trying to find homes for most of them. Let me know if U know of anyone who wants a cat.

  So my hunch had paid off, and Gloria had found her mysterious cat-gifter. That was good.

  While I still wished the text had been about his holiday plans, it did give me an idea. An imperfect, but pretty good solution to something that had been troubling me.

  I removed my stylus from the phone and wrote out a reply.

  I do know of a guy who’s going to need a cat—hopefully this weekend. He’s a nice college-aged kid. Lives with a few others in a shared house off-campus. His name is Tommy.

  I sent the message and then stared at the screen for a while. Tomorrow was the day. The day Caput Laboratories would make an important announcement and the day I would know whether or not I could go home.

  My ears drooped as it occurred to me that I wouldn’
t actually get to find out until tomorrow night. I’d have to catch the replay of the announcement. I couldn’t very well go sneaking downstairs to fire up my phone in broad daylight.

  I hung around for a little while longer, searching the internet for clues as to what tomorrow’s announcement might be. I came up empty. No more messages from Keith arrived either, so I eventually powered off the phone and stretched.

  It was technically time for a catnap, but I didn’t feel like it. I went upstairs and wandered the house restlessly, checking each of the windows to see if I could catch Spitz up to any midnight mischief.

  All was quiet outside, Christmas lights twinkling up and down the street. Snow began to fall.

  I still wasn’t sleepy.

  ***

  Somehow I slept through Tommy’s coffee ritual and breakfast.

  I think the only reason I woke up for lunch was because it was hamburgers. I needed to talk to Keith about working more hamburgers into his diet. This was going to be something I’d miss.

  Tommy plopped my burger patty on a plate and set it at the little round table in the breakfast nook. I hopped up in the chair as he said a silent prayer. Then we both dug in.

  He’d opened the mini-blinds in the breakfast nook sometime before I’d woken up. The overnight snow had long since turned to slush. The Chandler kids weren’t anywhere in sight—and neither was their van for that matter.

  About the time we’d finished the hamburgers and I’d begun cleaning my paws, their van appeared. Tommy was busy reading something on his phone, but I watched with interest as it parked and Chandlers of all sizes spilled from the doors.

  It appeared they’d been to a store. The children helped carry in a handful of shopping bags, one of which said “Cornelius Veterinary.” Mr. Chandler slung a large, colorful bag of—cat food?—over his shoulder and hauled it inside.

  The kids came back out onto the driveway and hovered around excitedly. The smaller ones hopped up and down. I suppose that was their way of letting the excitement out in little spurts rather than racing around in wild circles.

  Have you ever seen a cat who’s really wound up? There’s no hopping. Just circles. Really big, really fast, ears-laid-back circles.

  It’s quite fun.

  Anyway, they seemed to be waiting for something else. Finally, Mrs. Chandler emerged from the van, carefully holding a grey plastic box with holes in the sides.

  Something tugged at my memory, and I thought hard as I watched them disappear into the house.

  Where had I seen a grey box like that before?

  Then it hit me: I hadn’t just seen one. I’d ridden in one. It was a lot like the cat carrier Ms. Thornblood had used when bringing me to her house. Although I was willing to bet the one next door didn’t have red plush cushions inside.

  I looked down at the plate in front of me and licked the last little spot of greasiness, savoring the lingering flavor of the hamburger as I thought.

  There were all the signs of a cat in residence next door. This was very, very interesting indeed.

  I wandered to a window in the living room and jumped up to the sill. From here, I could look straight into the Chandlers’ living room.

  So maybe it was a bit nosy, but I really had to know what this was all about.

  The children clustered in an overly-excited semicircle around the cat carrier Mrs. Chandler had set on the floor by their Christmas tree. Mr. Chandler undid the latch and swung open the door.

  With no hesitation, a large orange cat stepped out. He moved around the children bravely, sniffing their hands and rubbing his head against them affectionately.

  He looked clean and even—brushed?—but it was most definitely Spitz. Everything started to fall into place, and I realized they’d taken him to this “Cornelius Veterinary” place this morning.

  They probably wanted to make sure he didn’t have any of the bugs Tommy claimed I’d had. Someone at the vet’s office must have cleaned and brushed him. There were probably shots, too.

  I’d had it pretty good with Tommy, I guess. Just a bath in the sink. No shots.

  I watched as Spitz explored the living room a bit, always returning to the adoring children. He was quite good at evading the littlest one’s grasping hands, and he seemed neither afraid nor upset by her attempts.

  I could tell he was going to be happy with the Chandlers. And if he continued following my advice about being a pleasant cat, they would be happy with him too.

  Suddenly, Spitz jumped up to the sill of the Chandlers’ living room window. He caught sight of me and waved his tail in recognition.

  Then he sat back on his hind feet and put one paw against the inside of the glass. I saw his mouth open and close in a soundless “meow.”

  I took that as “thanks.”

  Eleven

  I hadn’t been able to eat much dinner. For one thing, I was still pretty full from the hamburger. For another, I was getting more and more nervous about the contents of the announcement.

  I watched the hours tick by, realizing it was happening without me, and wishing I didn’t have to wait until the middle of the night to sneak down to the basement.

  “Well, Joe,” Tommy said, sitting down beside me on the couch with a pair of shoes in his hand, “I have to run out tonight. Church is having a candlelight service until late tonight. But hey—I thought tomorrow we could pop some popcorn and—” he stopped tying his shoes and eyed me. “Do you even eat popcorn?”

  I cocked my head.

  “You look so intelligent when you do that. You’ve eaten basically everything I’ve offered you,” he reasoned.

  And some things you haven’t, I thought, remembering the coffee and the fish crackers.

  “So I guess I’ll go ahead and pop some popcorn tomorrow. We can hang out and watch the Nativity Story. Used to do that every Christmas Eve growing up. It’s a good one.”

  I scratched behind my ear as he got to his feet. “Be good! See ya when I get back!”

  I jumped to a window and watched him get into his car. The minute he started backing down the driveway, I made a beeline for the basement door.

  I was so nervous, I miscalculated my jump for the door handle the first time. Realigning myself, I nailed it the second time and scampered down the steps.

  I had just powered up my phone when a scraping noise at the broken window stopped me cold. I sat on the glowing phone screen to block out the light.

  Sniffing, I tried to make out who or what I’d heard.

  All I smelled was weird soap.

  Wait. Weird soap? Like anti-bug soap?

  “Spitz?” I hissed softly.

  “Yo, where are ya?” he asked, sounding a tad startled.

  I stepped off the phone screen and let it illuminate my corner of the basement. He found me quickly.

  “What are you doing?” we asked each other at the same time.

  “You first,” I said.

  “Well, just wanted to say thanks. Can’t believe I actually got my Christmas wish. But—you were right about lots a’ things. Your advice worked real good. Didn’t know how much I—well—needed them.”

  “Smells like you got The Bath?” I asked.

  “Yeah, well, I coulda’ done without that part,” he sighed.

  I snickered, but then added sincerely, “I’m really glad it worked out for you, Spitz. It will be good for those kids to have a cat in their lives, too.”

  “So what are you doing?” Spitz asked curiously.

  “Um...” I was suddenly unsure how to explain everything. “Well,” I said slowly, deciding to start at the beginning. “I was raised in a laboratory. They did all kinds of training experiments with me and taught me how to read and write. Before they figured out that I’d figured it out, I escaped.”

  He stared at me, perfectly silent, his eyes wide.

  “So then I got myself adopted by a detective named Keith. One day, when he was having a particularly hard time solving a case, I revealed my secret to him by writing a note s
uggesting I help. I did solve the case, and this phone is a gift from my first client, Ms. Thornblood.”

  “Wow.” Spitz didn’t seem able to say anything else for a moment. Finally, after scratching behind his ear thoughtfully, he asked, “So if you belong with this detective, why are you here?”

  “The scientists at Caput Laboratories came looking for me,” I said quietly. “I had to fake my own death.”

  I removed the stylus and tapped on the internet browser. Spitz watched in fascination.

  “The lab made an important announcement today, and I’m hoping it means they’ve stopped looking for me and I can go back home.”

  “Wow,” he said again. “And I thought I’d lived an exciting life!”

  “It’s pretty unusual, I admit,” I said, sheepishly.

  I positioned the stylus in my teeth and guided it with my paws, writing out the words I wanted to search:

  Caput Laboratories announcement December 23

  “Mouse tails! You weren’t kidding!” Spitz said, leaning closer to watch. “I don’t think I could ever learn to do that.”

  “Well, to each their own. I’ve never caught a mouse in my life. It's hard to get a good hunting education when the only mice you’ve seen are in shiny, metal cages like your own.”

  He looked a little shocked at the thought of never having hunted mice.

  A short video clip was the first search result, and I took a deep breath before tapping on it.

  “Do ya want me to go?” Spitz asked, getting to his feet.

  “Thanks,” I said, realizing he thought this might be a private moment for me. “But you can stay if you want to.”

  To be honest, it made me slightly less nervous to have someone else there with me.

  The video buffered for a moment and then started playing. A news logo spun onto the screen and a woman began talking.

  “In today’s groundbreaking announcement, research scientists at Caput Laboratories revealed some amazing breakthroughs in the study of animal learning,” the woman said.

  It then cut to a video of the announcement. A man in a white lab coat stepped to a podium and leaned forward toward the microphone.