The Adventures of Caterwaul the Cat

by Damon Plumides

  Often it appeared that the inhabitants had been cooking only moments before evacuating the premises. As Queen Druciah rode through the various villages and towns, she noticed the twinkling of light reflecting off the fragments of all the shattered mirrors broken along the way.

  “There is no telling how many years of bad luck are lurking in that rubbish, Warwick!” the queen shouted to Vane Bezel jokingly. Warwick was riding his warhorse beside her coach. The queen laughed out loud. She was elated. Very soon she would have her youth and beauty back.

  I mustn’t forget to have Caterwaul release the spell, she thought to herself. I will have him do it just as soon as he brings me a solid-white female cat. She smiled wickedly. His chances are better if we wait.

  You can imagine Druciah’s confusion when she saw what the cat had done to the landscape outside Cathoon as her coach rolled up to the castle. It was shocking to the queen to see her home turned into a feline paradise.

  The queen stepped from her carriage and went directly inside in search of her mischievous pet. Going from room to room, her guard in tow, she found that the cat’s alteration to the castle’s interior was even worse than the exterior. She finally found him alone, sunbathing in the solarium, asleep, awkwardly stretched out on his back across a large pillow. A bit of kitty drool dangled from his mouth. He was having a catnap and obviously dreaming.

  “Caterwaul!” she shouted. “What have you done to my Cathoon? It looks like a . . . a . . . cat house!”

  Caterwaul shot up at once. The bit of drool slapped him in his left eye, and he began trembling as if he’d seen a ghost. After all, she had been gone for a very long time.

  “Queen Druciah,” he said in a trembling voice as if he’d seen a ghost, “I thought I would surprise you. Do you like it?”

  It was all the queen could do to suppress her rage. “Well, I see you’ve been quite busy, my mischievous little friend.” The queen sucked it up, trying not to give him any hint of his fate. “You know . . . Actually, I kind of like it,” she said with sarcastic disgust.

  She looked at him with deliberate intent. “What has transpired here in my absence is of little concern right now. We will talk about it later. The only thing that concerns me now is that I am back, and I have a job for you.”

  Feeling as though he had at least temporarily avoided her wrath, Caterwaul spoke. “I am happy to see you again, your majesty. If there is any part of the castle that displeases you, I will attend to it immediately,” he said apologetically.

  “We will leave it as is for now,” said the queen. If she had harbored any doubts about giving him back to the Witch, they were all gone now.

  “Did you get to see the Witch? What did she say? Did she give you what you were looking for?” His questions came hard and fast. He was confused by the fact that she still looked the same as she had when she left, although there may have been a few more errant hairs on her face.

  “I need you to forget about all of that right now,” she said. “Ask me no more questions. What I need you to do for me now is to go out among the villages and retrieve for me an all-white female cat.”

  She drew extremely close to him to emphasize her point. “It is of the utmost importance that she be completely white with no stripes, spots, or speckles whatsoever. Is that clear? And you will have to be quick about it because I need her back here as soon as possible.”

  “Your majesty,” Caterwaul answered, “that’s a strange request. Of course I will go as soon as possible, but why do you need her?” Caterwaul asked.

  “I said no questions. Bring me a white female cat as I have requested. All will be revealed to you in time. Now do as I ask.”

  The cat stretched his limbs, stood at attention, and said, “Don’t worry, my queen. I will bring you back the most beautiful cat in the kingdom.”

  Caterwaul gathered what he’d need for the trip. He stopped by to see Orris on his way out. The two had become good friends since the queen left. The chef prepared enough food to put in his cat-sized backpack for his travels. The remaining room in the pack he used to carry the magic powders and potions he could need to deal with problems that might arise along the way.

  Orris had come to like having Caterwaul in charge of the castle. He had been enjoying life again. He was not happy now. With the return of the queen, his life at Cathoon was sure to go back to the way it was before. He wasn’t looking forward to that at all.

  The queen looked around the castle at what “damage” the cat had done. As soon as he is returned to the Witch, I will do some renovating myself. I will create a new Cathoon worthy of an empress, she thought to herself. I will have all of these cat things removed from the premises and burned.

  Caterwaul will be erased from my memory. I will be young, and as such, I will have new young suitors to keep me occupied.Most importantly, I will be feared. She thought all of these things as she put the sack that Warwick Vane Bezel III had given her high on a shelf in the armoire in her bedchamber for safekeeping.

  Part ll

  Heroes and Villains

  11

  To Harsizzle

  Caterwaul strolled into the village of Harsizzle. “It’s been so long since I’ve been just a cat, I don’t know where to start,” he muttered to himself. He’d lived most of his life with the Witch of Red Moon Forest, and she didn’t often have visitors, much less of the cat variety. He roamed through the village streets, noticing all of the smells and sounds he remembered from back when he was just a small kitten.

  Unsurprisingly, it seemed everywhere he glanced in town he saw cats. There were so very many of them. Wherever he went, there they were: in the windows, in the doorways, in the alleyways, and on the streets.

  Many of them looked hungry and more than a bit scared. This was understandable since only a short while ago many of them had been humans. He noted that there were a number who were still just getting the hang of walking on all fours. Caterwaul sat for a while watching, as it was quite hilarious for a cat who had been one all his life to see all of these new ones trying to adjust.

  In some houses, Caterwaul could hear the crying of the people who remained, wailing about what had happened to their husbands, wives, daughters, and sons. What sort of horrible creature could be responsible for this?

  Surely it was sorcery . . . a truly monstrous deed. What had they done to deserve this awful fate? These were the questions on the lips of those who had not been changed. Caterwaul shook uncomfortably because he knew he was responsible. It was true he was following the queen’s orders, but now he felt that he could have, and that perhaps he should have, said no. Curling up in a hole underneath one of the empty houses, he fell asleep.

  Several hours later, he awoke to the sound of rain. It was coming down in buckets. Backing away from the opening to a safer position, he avoided the rush of water, which flowed, past his hideaway. He took the downpour as a good sign. From personal experience, he knew that cats do not like rainstorms, and he could hear the cries of his feline brethren as they dashed about looking for the nearest shelter. He thought that the cloudburst would make finding the white cat easy. All he needed to do was go to the places where the cats were hiding, waiting for the rain to pass.

  The storm eased up long enough for Caterwaul to venture out. It was still more than a drizzle, but it was no longer the torrent it had been. Up ahead, he thought he saw a place likely to be full of refugees.

  It was an old abandoned building that looked like it had at one time been used for some sort of local industry. He could hear the many catcalls as he approached. It sounded as if some of the toms were fighting for the best vantage points. As he got closer, he could see there were a large number of cats inside. Some appeared terrified, but most of them seemed happy just to be out of the rain.

  He quickly did an informal count. He figured there were at least twenty-five cats in this old abandoned facility. It shouldn’t be too difficult to make friends, Caterwaul thought to himself. But where am I to find a solid-white ca
t? All of these have colors or some sort of markings on them.

  It was true. He even noticed what he thought to be a completely hairless cat. He’d never seen one of those before; one of the other cats called it a Sphynx. But it didn’t look entirely real to him. He was sure it was some kind of prank. Caterwaul looked around for hours, but saw no pure-white cats at all.

  Even here, where he’d hit upon the highest concentration of potential contestants, he’d struck out. There was not a single pure-white animal, female or otherwise, to be found. There was one that looked like it might be suitable, but on close inspection he saw that she had a black spot on her nose and another one on her left ear. Apart from that, though, she was quite charming.

  When the storm subsided, the cats inside the building scattered. There were kitties to meet and places to be, after all. Caterwaul thought he would take the time to explore the large and now empty facility. It appeared to be a deserted blacksmith’s shop. He assumed this because there were many tools, such as hammers and anvils, lying about.

  There was a forge for heating metal and devices that smiths used for shaping it. Most of the items looked to be in workable condition, and Caterwaul could not understand why all of this was just abandoned. What had happened here? he wondered.

  Then it dawned on him. That chattering fool of a rat, Edsel. He had been a blacksmith, hadn’t he? At least Caterwaul thought that was what he remembered the rodent having said. But then Edsel said a lot of things, most of which were untrue. However, this time it made sense. This had been his place. The word must have gotten out that the Witch had cursed the place and taken him away. So, the mouthy little pest was telling the truth after all.

  As he examined Edsel’s facility, Caterwaul heard what sounded like a heated argument. He crept toward the sound of the voices. There, just inside the fence of what must have once been a horse paddock, he spotted an obese, gray-and- white youngster that had a smaller kitten cornered against the gatepost.

  “You call that food?” the fat kitten squawked. He stood over what looked like a piece of the ravaged carcass of a pigeon or some other bird. Whatever it once was in life, it was now only yellowish bones long picked clean of its tasty bits. His fat face pressed close to the little fellow’s, and gobs of cat spit flew onto the cornered youth. “How am I s’posed to eat that? I want real food.” He swung his fat paw and struck the little guy in the head, knocking him over. “Go and bring me back something I can really sink my teeth into.”

  It was obvious to Caterwaul that he was witnessing a cat shakedown here. The bigger kitten was literally throwing his weight around. The smaller kitten looked weak and emaciated, and he was obviously terrified. Caterwaul wanted to intervene, but he didn’t want to rush in without knowing what was going on backstage. Bullies like the gray-and-white rarely operated alone.

  The gray-and-white was a kitten still, but looked to be almost as large as Caterwaul. He was sure that he could take the fat cat, providing he could make the fight last. He knew the obese kitten would tire and then it would be over. But if there were a whole group of them lurking close by, the outcome would be different. Because of this, Caterwaul chose caution.

  Slipping out of his pack, he searched for a good place to hide it. There was enough food to last him for several days, and considering these circumstances, he did not care to lose it. But there were other things in the pack, besides the food, that he was really fearful of losing: the elements he needed to perform his array of spells and enchantments. He hid the pack under a pile of leaves and straw to keep it safe.

  He crept closer. Perched on a rotten old sawhorse, he scoured the area visually for signs that the gray-and-white might have accomplices. Sure enough, hidden in the tall grass not ten feet away were two other young tomcats. One of them was a gray-and-black stripy of medium build, and the other one was larger and marked over most of its fur with yellow blotches. Both cats looked as if they had seen a few fights. The stripy was covered with scars, and the big yellow cat had a droopy eye and was missing a major piece of his right ear.

  They were both staying out of sight, ready to jump in if there was any trouble. If he had a prayer of helping the tiny cat, he would have to create some form of diversion to draw the other two cats away. Only with them out of play could he move against the gray-and-white.

  The obese kitten grabbed the smaller one by the scruff of its neck. There was plenty of loose skin. The smaller kitten was obviously starving. Caterwaul returned to where he had stashed his pack and removed from it a small pouch made of folded paper. Tucking it into his collar, he moved to outflank the hidden cats, hoping to come at them from the behind.

  Caterwaul knew that he probably stood little chance against the two of them, but he had a plan he hoped would work. He moved out in a semicircle of about one hundred yards, and then made a beeline to a spot some twenty feet behind where the cats were concealed. He then proceeded to thrash about in the tall grass making sure to create as much noise as possible. The hidden cats moved to see what the ruckus was about.

  Up on his toes in a fighting stance, he issued his challenge. Caterwaul’s tail and fur were up and at attention as he hissed at the two, who continued moving toward him defiantly. He was confident that at least one of them would strike at his throat.

  Leaping toward the onrushing cats, Caterwaul drew in a deep breath and struck out with his claws bared. He landed on the back of the big yellow and struck at its head. His momentum from the jump, however, caused him to miss, and he was easily shaken off, landing on his back on the ground. At that instant, the scarred-up stripy made his move. This was obviously the leader of the two. He flashed his teeth at Caterwaul, who noticed that his incisors were bigger than they should have been. They appeared to him like daggers.

  As Caterwaul predicted, the stripy slashed for his neck. The cat’s claws tore directly into the paper pouch, tearing it open and releasing its contents. Once exposed to the air, the contents produced a bright flash. A cloud of dust and smoke filled the air around them. Off balance and breathing in the fumes, both the stripy and the big yellow staggered a bit, lost their balance, and fell over unconscious.

  Caterwaul dashed away from the cloud before daring to draw air again. He raised his paw to his neck, checking his injury. It was bleeding, but not too badly. The stripy cat’s claws had only scratched him.

  “That was lucky,” he muttered to himself.

  Making sure both cats were unconscious, he followed his semicircular path back to where the gray-and-white had been harassing the little one. The fat kitten was sitting there still sucking imaginary meat from the bird skeleton, but there was no sign of his victim anywhere. Nevertheless he was making some truly disgusting sounds as he sucked at bare bones, and it grossed Caterwaul out.

  Obviously the intimidation of the gray-and-white had worked, and the smaller cat was off looking for more food for his tormentor.

  “Are you going to eat all that yourself, fatso?” Caterwaul asked sarcastically. The gray-and-white kitten turned toward Caterwaul and let what might have been a wing joint drop to the ground.

  “Who in the world are you?” asked the fat kitten.

  “You’re really good at smacking around the little guys aren’t you? Want to tangle with me?” Caterwaul hissed, and he drew his claws.

  “What do you care about it?” answered the gray-and-white as he unsheathed his own. “It’s my business.”

  As the gray-and-white moved closer toward him, Caterwaul could see he had misjudged this other animal’s size. Though still technically a “kitten,” the gray-and-white was actually much larger than he had previously estimated, and easily had five pounds on Caterwaul.

  “If I were you, I would go about my business, stranger. Don’t you know who I am? If not, my name is Lucius . . . and this here is my patch of ground.”

  Caterwaul leaped toward Lucius, and the larger cat dodged. He was much quicker than Caterwaul had anticipated, especially for a fat kitty. Caterwaul leaped up into the air and
came down on a fence rail. He turned around just in time to see the gray-and-white’s left paw strike him across the cheek. Caterwaul stumbled a second before regaining his balance. He clambered up a post to the top rail of the fence.

  Lucius spryly followed him up the post. He was much more conditioned than he looked. His fat belly shook from side to side, but it did not seem to slow him down.

  As Caterwaul ran along the top of the paddock fence, the bad cat continued his pursuit. Caterwaul opened up some distance between them. Finally it seemed his opponent was running out of steam. Up ahead, he could see a large sycamore tree with some low-hanging branches. He wondered if the tree’s seedpods were ready to fall.

  He thought back to his time in the forest. He remembered how he used to like to throw the seed pods of the sycamore at Edsel. The pods contained seeds, which when ripened, produced fibers that caused uncontrollable itching upon contact with fur or skin. Caterwaul had always called it “itchy powder.” He would laugh as the fibers clung almost magnetically to the rat’s greasy coat. He hoped this tree’s pods were ready to drop. Some itchy powder would come in handy right about now.

  Caterwaul hopped from the fence rail onto a low-hanging tree limb and sprinted up its length to the trunk. He hurried to a set of branches that looked promising, and he carefully eased along one. It was no good. The tree had pods, but they weren’t yet ripe. They were hard and spiky and green. The fibers had not yet appeared.

  “Maybe I can use them anyway,” thought Caterwaul. He stretched his paw out to grab one, and the branch began to bend. It wasn’t thick enough to hold his weight. As the branch dipped downward, he grabbed at one of the pods just as he lost his footing.