The Cat Who Walked a Thousand Miles
Page 5
A small Buddhist temple peeked from a grove of trees, with stone dogs guarding a red gate into the grounds. A boy swept the ground in front of a shrine there. Small Cat smelled the dried fish and mushrooms left as offerings: it might be worth her while to find out more.
Two young dogs wrestled in the dirt by a sheep pen until they noticed her. They jumped to their feet and raced to her, barking, “Cat! Cat!” She wasn’t afraid of dogs any more—not happy dogs like these, with their heads high and their ears pricked. She hopped onto a railing where they couldn’t accidentally bowl her over. They milled about, wagging their tails.
A woman stretching fabric started to say something to the dogs. When she saw Small Cat, her mouth made an O of surprise. “A cat!” She whirled and ran toward the temple. “A cat! Look, come see!”
The woman knew what a cat was, and so had the dogs. Ignoring the dogs, ignoring all the people who were suddenly seeing her, Small Cat pelted after the woman.
The woman burst through a circle of children gathered around a seated man. The man was dressed in red and yellow, his shaved head shiny in the sun. A monk, but not her monk, she knew right away: this one was rounder, though his face was still open and kind. He stood up as the woman pointed at Small Cat. “Look, look! Another cat!”
The monk and the children all started talking at once. And in the middle of the noise, Small Cat heard a cat meow.
A cat?
A little ginger-and-white striped tomcat stood on a stack of boxes nearby, looking down at her. His golden eyes were bright and huge with excitement, and his whiskers vibrated. He jumped down, and ran to her.
“Who are you?” he said. His tail waved. “Where did you come from?”
When she decided to make this her home, she hadn’t thought she might be sharing it. He wasn’t much bigger than she was, or any older, and right now, he was more like a kitten than anything, hopping from paw to paw. She took a step toward him.
“I am so glad to see another cat!” he added. He purred so hard that his breath wheezed in his throat.
“The monk brought me here last year to catch mice, all the way from the capital in a basket! It was very exciting.”
“There are so many things to do here! I have a really nice secret place to sleep, but I’ll show it to you.” He touched her nose with his own.
“There’s no fudoki,” he said, a little defensively. “There’s just me.”
“And me now,” Small Cat said, and she rubbed her cheek against his. “And I have such a tale to tell!”
Copyright © 2009 Kij Johnson
Books by Kij Johnson
NOVELS
Fudoki
The Fox Woman
Dragon’s Honor (with Greg Cox)
SHORT STORY COLLECTION
Tales for the Long Rains