The Adventures of Caterwaul the Cat

by Damon Plumides

  “Don’t let me fall, please don’t let me fall,” he said aloud to himself. It was all he could think of. Amazingly, he was able to recover his balance and slid back up toward the tree trunk, pod in paw.

  Bouncing from the trunk to the thickest branch he could find, Caterwaul shot along its length to a place above where Lucius was. The gray-and-white was sitting on the top rail below him. He looked exhausted, and his massive form trembled as he sucked at the elusive air.

  “If you’re still hungry, why don’t you try eating this?” Caterwaul threw the unripened, spiked seedpod at the cat, hitting him square in the face. The attack knocked him off balance. It was then that Caterwaul pounced, and both of the cats tumbled to the ground. They were screaming loudly as they fought, claws slashing at each other, fur flying from the blows.

  Soon it was over. The defeated Lucius was laid out on his back on the ground with Caterwaul sitting on his chest, claws out. Gasping for breath, the defeated fat cat cried out for his companions, “Bugsy, Meyer,” he gasped. “Come quickly. I need you.”

  “If you are looking for your two goon buddies, they won’t be coming.”

  Lucius looked stunned and terrified.

  “I already took care of those two earlier, so they won’t be helping you any time soon.” Caterwaul sneered, “If I were you, I would go and find you another patch to work. This one isn’t yours anymore.

  “Now get out of here.”

  He climbed from atop the shaking wad of fur and snarled at him. The defeated cat limped off.

  12

  Gerhard

  Caterwaul searched for signs of the little kitten, but found none. He couldn’t have gotten far, Caterwaul thought. After about an hour with no results, he thought it best to get back to his assignment.

  He looked around until the sun started to go down, but there were still no signs of a white cat. He felt good about his performance in the fight earlier in the day. He had used all of his abilities—physical, mental, and magical—in the contest and was victorious.

  He was very tired now, though. He found himself a nice stoop and curled up underneath it. His wounds had stopped bleeding, but he could see there were spots where pieces of his fur coat were missing. They had been ripped out in the fight. “That’s going to really impress the girls,” he sighed.

  He was fortunate that he’d remembered to pack a makeshift first-aid kit. Some salve made from garlic juice and dried geranium flowers would assure that his cuts would heal quickly and not become infected. He thanked his lucky stars that he had been able to study herbs while living with the Witch.

  He also remembered that he was hungry. Reaching into his pack, he withdrew a piece of dried fish that Orris had given him. He truly loved dried carp. It was one of his favorite meals. As Caterwaul prepared for dinner, he made sure that he cleaned his fur and paws extra carefully. He didn’t want to have any stray bits of Lucius contaminating his dinner.

  He was just about to start eating when he heard a faint meow. Wheeling about, he spied the small kitten peering at him from one of the bushes near the stoop. The kitten had snuck up on him silently. This is not good, he thought. The kitten was also shaking. He was obviously afraid.

  “Hey little guy, don’t be scared,” Caterwaul said softly. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.” He motioned with his paw for the kitten to come forward.

  The kitten hesitated. He wasn’t used to anyone being nice to him.

  “Do you want some fish?” Caterwaul asked. He reopened his pack and pulled out another piece of the dried carp. “You look hungry. Come on over here and have some food. I have plenty and can’t eat all this by myself.”

  The kitten was still unsure, so Caterwaul pushed the second piece of fish forward and withdrew several paces. “Come on now. You can have it. No tricks . . . I promise you.” The little cat cautiously moved toward the piece of fish. When he saw that Caterwaul remained at a distance, he leaped on it and started tearing at it ravenously, like he hadn’t eaten anything in days.

  “There you go,” said Caterwaul. “It’s pretty good, no?” The kitten nodded his head repeatedly while he gorged himself. “Hey now, little guy, slow down,” Caterwaul laughed. “There is plenty. No one is going to take it away from you.

  “What’s your name, boy?” asked Caterwaul.

  “Coy,” said the kitten without pausing. “My name is Coy. This is really good. I haven’t had fish in a long time.”

  Caterwaul found that hard to believe. “But there is a river which runs through Harsizzle less than a mile from here. There are fishermen and merchants all over this town.”

  “Not anymore, there aren’t,” said the kitten. “You have noticed that there are a lot more cats running around these parts lately? A whole lot of them used to be fishermen. But a little while ago, all of the fishermen turned into cats. You see people can’t look into mirrors anymore. If they do, they get turned into cats, like us . . . Poof! It happens just like that.”

  He finished up his piece of fish. “I don’t suppose you have any more you can spare?”

  Caterwaul nodded and pushed the uneaten portion of his own dinner toward the starving kitten. “So how does that affect the fishermen?” he asked.

  “Well,” Coy responded in an almost matter-of-fact way. “The water in the river is not perfectly clear, see? Like most rivers, it has a greenish-brown tint. Because of this, the river’s surface is reflective. The fishermen went down to the river to work one day, and then all of a sudden, they turned into cats. It was like the whole river became a giant mirror . . . Scary was what it was.”

  He wolfed down a large mouthful of the carp. “So, as you can imagine, no more fishermen means the number of fish in Harsizzle becomes significantly reduced. And what fish do manage to come out of the river these days are strictly controlled by the Felinos.”

  Caterwaul hadn’t considered that other reflective surfaces might also have been affected by his spell. He would have to find a way to address that type of collateral damage before using it again.

  “In fact, there is a serious shortage of all types of food in the village these days, not just fish. Why with all these newcomers running around town, producing nothing, the rodent population has disappeared as well.”

  Taking another mouthful of his food, Coy continued, “Most cats these days round here are glad just to get some scraps out of the trash of the few remaining humans, or from picking the bits off the rotting carcasses of dead things they find lying about. Things were so much better before, when there were just a few of us in town.”

  Caterwaul was ashamed. He had caused this. It was entirely his fault. He needed to find the white female and get back so he could lift the spell. “Who are these Felinos you mentioned?” he asked the youth.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” asked the small cat sarcastically. “You haven’t heard of the outfit? The organization? The Felino family? The mob? The Felinos . . . they’re gangsters.

  “They have complete control of the docks. They operate out of their power base down at the riverfront. Come to think of it, they control almost all the cat rackets around here. If it’s crooked, then you can bet that you’ll find a Felino has got his filthy little paws in it.

  “You must be new in town if you don’t know who the Felinos are. You know that gray-and-white chunkster you fought a little while ago? He’s one of them . . . He’s a pretty important underboss in the outfit too.”

  He finished up the last of his fish. “Wow, I thought every cat knew about the Felinos?”

  “So . . . you saw all that then, did you?” Caterwaul asked.

  “Of course,” said Coy. “I was hiding near where you stashed your bag. Don’t worry, I didn’t take anything . . . I swear it. I wasn’t about to steal from anyone nuts enough to take on Lucius Jr. But hey . . . just so you know, your hiding place was pretty obvious. A big pile of leaves and hay? Come on . . . if I was trying to nab your stuff, that pile would have been the first place I’d have looked.

  �
��By the way, thank you for your timely intervention. That fat cat has been shaking me down ever since we were weaned. But I am curious about one thing, though. How did you get rid of Meyer and Bugsy? Lucius Jr. doesn’t go anywhere without his muscle. They couldn’t have been more than ten feet away when fatso was slapping me around. The pig likes his audience, you see. So . . . what did you do to ‘em?”

  “That’s a long story for another day,” said Caterwaul as he prepared to go to sleep. “I’m bushed.”

  Coy suddenly became seriously concerned. “You know they’re gonna come after you, right? By now Lucius Jr. has told his old man what you did to him, and the whole family will be out looking for you. The family doesn’t like it when outsiders mess with their action or their people. If I was you, I would leave town quick-like. I’m sure there’s already a price on your tail.”

  But Caterwaul didn’t hear him. He was already out cold, the rigors of the day having taken their toll. He was sound asleep, slipping into dreams of goldfish, scratching posts, and large balls of string. The little cat curled up next to him, and he also fell asleep.

  The next morning Caterwaul awoke to the sound of a dog barking. He looked around for Coy, but the little guy was nowhere to be seen. He peered out from beneath the stoop and saw a pair of human legs. They were the legs of a hunter. Running about sniffing the ground was a large hound.

  “Sic ‘em, boy,” shouted the man. “Chase those cats outta here. Durn cats are everywhere. They’re nothing but a durn nuisance. The whole town’s starting to stink. It’s turning into a flipping cat box.” Cats scampered away from the onrushing dog. Caterwaul made the man for a hunter. He wore tan linen pants and a deerskin jacket. On his back was a quiver of arrows, and he had a short bow slung over one shoulder. In a sheath on his belt was a large knife.

  Caterwaul remained hidden until the hunter and his beast were out of sight and then started down the road in the opposite direction. He continued to look for the white female cat for most of the day but had no luck. He was trying to stay inconspicuous. He was thinking about what Coy had said about the Felinos. There was no sense in taking any unnecessary risks.

  While he was looking, he spotted a grove containing three more sycamore trees. Glancing around underneath the canopy, he noted that their seed pods were more mature than those of the tree down at the blacksmith’s. He searched the ground and found five pods ready to release their seeds. “Thank you, Mrs. Sycamore, for your generous gift. These ought to come in handy.” He stripped the seeds from the pod into a piece of paper he found lying on the ground and put them into his pack for safekeeping.

  Several long hours later, Caterwaul was ready to give up and move on to the next village. Just then, he glanced down an alleyway and noticed a cat rummaging through some garbage. He appeared to be quite hungry. His body was a pale gray, and he had deep-blue eyes. His paw markings were considerably lighter than the rest of him, and this gave the impression that he was wearing little white boots. On his head was a cap that looked like one the foreign sailors wear, only smaller, like it had been taken off a child’s doll.

  Caterwaul thought the fellow looked funny in his sailor’s cap. “Ahoy there, mate,” he shouted jokingly as he approached the trash bin. “I am Caterwaul, and I’m new in town. I was wondering if you could tell me where I might be able to meet some ladies of class?”

  “Sure mate, I came in on a ship a few weeks ago. Name’s Gerhard, at your service. Would you care for a fish head? They’re really quite delicious after they’ve had a chance to sit in the sun awhile and have been properly seasoned, of course.” In his paw the gray cat held a decaying fish head. The smell was horrendous.

  “No thank you, my friend,” said Caterwaul trying not to breathe. “Although I am sure that you are a connoisseur of fish heads,” he swished his paw to chase away the congregating flies. “I’m not particularly hungry. But please, you go ahead and enjoy it.”

  “Ladies, eh?” asked the gray cat, getting back to the point as he jumped to the ground. He still held onto the rotten fish head. “There’s more than a few in the village, I tell you.” He took a huge bite of his snack. “What’re you looking for?”

  “Just out for a bit of fun,” said Caterwaul.

  “Oh fun, eh?” he laughed. “That might be harder to find. Not much of that around these parts, at least not lately.” As he spoke, he must have allowed a piece of the head to slide down his windpipe because he started choking. He coughed several times as if trying to dislodge a hairball. Caterwaul moved forward to help, but the other cat waved him off as if to say he was all right.

  “I’m good,” he said, looking like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. “It appears, my friend, that we have both come to a town that’s experiencing a food shortage of sorts.” He hopped toward Caterwaul. “Name’s Gerhard,” the cat repeated, offering his outstretched paw. There were fish guts clinging to his fur, and Caterwaul hesitated to grab it.

  “Oh sorry, mate,” said Gerhard, shaking the residue from his paw. He again offered it, and this time, since it had much less goo on it, Caterwaul shook.

  “I’m Caterwaul,” he said, grasping the grimy paw.

  “As it happens, my fine feline friend, I too have been drawn here by the lure of the fairer sex. I stowed away on a boat and came here. Now I know what you’re thinking. Why would a good-looking geezer like myself, who obviously could have his pick of the litter, so to speak, when it comes to the ladies, need to sneak on board some dodgy watercraft and come all this way to a foreign place in search of love?”

  Putting his paw to the side of his mouth, he whispered softly, “I heard that this Harsizzle place was just crawling with females.”

  He grabbed up what was left of his fish head. “Sure you don’t want any mate?” he asked. “I’m telling you, you don’t know what you’re missing. It’s very tasty. I can’t offer you the eyeballs though. I already ate them. I can’t help myself. I just love the eyeballs. I always eat them first.” He laughed as he took another mouthful. “It’s too bad they only have the two.”

  Caterwaul started to wretch. “The females,” he said trying not to vomit. “You were talking about the females.”

  Gerhard grinned. There was a tiny piece of rotten fish caught in his teeth. Then he noticed the look of disgust on Caterwaul’s face. “Oy,” he asked, “before I say another word, are you a real cat or did you look into one of those bloody mirrors?” he asked.

  “No, I am all cat, one of a litter of six,” Caterwaul assured him.

  “It’s all straight then. I was worried there for a minute. You were acting like a cat on hot bricks, if you know what I mean.”

  Caterwaul wasn’t quite sure what Gerhard was talking about, but remained silent.

  “It appears that quite a few new additions to the species have been caused by mirrors recently. I’m sure you’ve noticed. That’s the reason there’s no food. It’s a population explosion, and it’s totally throwing off the ratio, if you know what I mean.” He winked at Caterwaul. “Not that I’ve had any trouble scoring, mind you.

  “And when it comes to the ladies, my friend, I happen to be quite partial to the big ones,” he continued. “They just look healthy, you know. I like my women to have some meat on their bones, if you know what I mean. Small ankles and a hefty frame, that’s good breeding, you know.” Gerhard nibbled a little bit of his fish head. “What kind of girls do you fancy?”

  “I am partial to white cats. I mean pure white, the kind with no markings. I have always loved how their coats glimmer in the snow. They really take my breath away. Any chance you have seen any pure-white cats around here?” Caterwaul asked him.

  “No, mate. I can’t say I have.” He started thinking about how it might be nice to meet a really big all-white cat, and a dreamy smile came over his face.

  Caterwaul was disappointed. He thought this Gerhard might have been able to help. It seemed that he would have to continue searching.

  “But there’s gonna be a mixer
up at the old windmill just three days from now. Do you know where that is?” Gerhard sat down and started cleaning himself.

  “No, I don’t,” replied Caterwaul. “Where is this old windmill?”

  “It’s up on old man Farrow’s farm, about a kilometer northwest of the village. It’s a really happening place. They hold these shindigs pretty regularly. Lots of females will be there. It’s usually invite-only, but a handsome geezer such as yourself ought to have no problem getting in. If they hold you up, drop my name. I know a few of the folks who are putting on this little soirée.”

  He finished cleaning his paws and held them up as if to ask Caterwaul if he had done a thorough enough job. “The birds will be all over you like catnip, trust me. You might even bag you a white one, if you play your cards right.” He turned as if to leave, then looked back toward Caterwaul.

  “I believe it starts up around nightfall. You’ll be able to hear the music as you get close. One good thing about humans turning into cats is that some of them were musicians before they had four legs. They can’t play quite as well as they used to, but the owners of the place get ‘em dirt cheap . . . they work for scraps,” said Gerhard, laughing loudly, overly impressed with his own joke.

  “Thank you, Gerhard,” said Caterwaul. “I hope our paths cross again. May we both find what we’re looking for.”

  “That would be positively electric, my friend,” Gerhard yelled over his shoulder. He hopped down the street in the direction of the river.

  Caterwaul was spent. There were still a few more hours left of daylight, but he had run himself ragged scouring the town searching for the white cat. The queen demanded results, but so far he had nothing. He felt that his best chance of success was to attend this party at the old windmill.

  Now if he could only stay out of the way of the Felinos until then. He shook his head and smiled nervously. It would be difficult. Still they weren’t his biggest worry. He dreaded more what might happen to him if he were to return to the castle empty-handed.