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Jemima ran as fast as her paws could carry her. Her breath ran in ragged sobs from her throat. Blindly she dashed down the alley. Behind her she could hear the barking and angry snarls of the two big stray dogs that were chasing her. It wasn't a cat's favorite place to be. The bigger dog, a husky, was less than a leap behind her. She could feel the hot breath on her tail.

Just as she was about to collapse from exhaustion, the worst happened: she came to a dead end alley. It was a brick wall, too high to jump and no cracks to slip through. She backed up against it as close as she could. The two dogs came forward slowly, growling and slobbering, licking their chops.

Jemima arched her back and made herself look as big as possible, but she was no match for the two dogs. The smaller dog, a scrawny mutt, put his nose a bit too close. Jemima closed her eyes and lashed out blindly. She was lucky: her claws got him right across his nose.

The smaller dog leaped back yelping. The husky growled. "You'll pay for that, kitty."

Jemima knew this was the end, but a hawk saved her life. At least, Jemima thought it was a hawk. Something big leaped over the wall and in front of her, then a vicious fight ensued.

Fur, dirt, trash, and blood flew in all directions as the big hawk-thing fought with the two dogs. When it was over, the mutt lay dead and the husky took off with a bad shoulder wound.

Oh great, Jemima thought, another dog.

The dog who won the fight, the one Jemima thought was a hawk, was a large black and brown German shepherd. He stood there panting, looking to make sure the husky didn't come back. He turned to Jemima, saying before he did.

"You know, you really should be careful, pup-Oh! Oh no, I just saved a cat!"

The dog looked down at Jemima, while Jemima looked up at the dog with wide, curious eyes. Neither said a word. The dog was big, with a battle-scarred face and an air of nobility and honor about him. Jemima didn't hate this dog like she did the other two.

"Get out of here, kitty," the dog finally said gently. "If I knew you were a cat, I would've left you to those two strays. I only got them because they were breaking the law and I thought you were a pup."

"The law?" Jemima asked. She noted the dog's blue collar with silver badge pinned to it.

"Yeah: the law. I'm a police dog, you know. Well, go on, kitty, get back to your own kind. I've got my rounds to patrol."

"Wait!" Jemima called as the shepherd turned to leave. "Uh...my name's Jemima. Thank you for saving my life."

The dog smiled slightly. "Yeah, whatever. You're welcome, and my name's Butch. Nice to meet you, Jemima." The dog turned to leave again. Jemima trotted after him.

"You know, you're a really strong dog, Mr. Butch. Do you think you could walk me to my home? Just to make sure I don't get attacked again?"

Butch looked skeptically at the little kitten. "Are you kidding? Look kitty, I have friends. I wouldn't be caught dead walking a cat home."

"Please, Mr. Butch?" Jemima begged. She gave the dog her most pitiful face. Butch smiled again.

"You have a pretty voice," he said. "Okay, I'll walk you home. But only this once."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Butch! Thank you!"

"Just Butch will be fine, Jemima. Where do you live?"

"Over by the junkyard, close to the railway station." The two started walking, Jemima talking as they went. "My dad works on the trains. I live with a really nice family, but my dad's gone a lot. My mother's really nice. And I have two sisters..."

Jemima chattered on, Butch listening to her voice. He liked it, so clear and sweet. Maybe walking this kitten home wasn't such a bad idea.

It was evening when they reached the junkyard, and Jemima hadn't run out of things to talk about. Butch knew his boss wouldn't be happy about him coming in late, but it was worth it.

Butch had grown to really like the kitten, but he knew there would be trouble when a dog and a large group of cats got mixed up together. Butch stopped outside the slanted and rusty junkyard gates, unwilling to go another step.

"Well, here you go Jemima. I'm sure you can find someone here to take you the rest of the way. Goodbye."

"Bye, Butch!" Jemima waved as the German shepherd turned and trotted off. Something stirred behind her as Butch was lost from sight. She turned and was looking at the grinning face of Pouncival.

"Hey, Jemima," he teased. "If I had a big jaw and barked, would you like me?" He stood on his tip-paws and deepened his voice. "Bark, bark, bark, aroooo!"

Jemima walked past him, "Oh, shut up, Pouncival. Mind your own business."

But Pouncival wouldn't mind his own business. He followed her as she entered the junkyard, bouncing around like a rubber ball. "So, do you like dogs? Huh? Do you? Huh?"

Jemima whirled to face him. "Look, that dog saved my life, Pouncival. He's nice, and brave, and strong. He's not like other dogs. He-"

"Did you say dog?" a loud, commanding voice said behind her. She slowly turned around, already knowing who it was: Munkustrap. He was laid out on a high stack of newspapers so he could watch the junkyard entrance.

"Munkustrap!" Jemima exclaimed. She looked at Pouncival, begging with her eyes for him not to tell Munkustrap about the dog. But Pouncival was a nasty little brat.

"Hey, Munkustrap, Jemima's friends with a-"

"I know," Munkustrap cut him off. "I saw everything." He jumped down and strode over to Jemima, standing tall and superior. "Go home Pouncival," he ordered. Pouncival slunk off without a word. "Well, what have you to say for yourself, kitten?"

Jemima stared at the ground, as if to find inspiration there. "Well, uh, I..."

She looked up, instantly recognizing the stern face that was the tabby's trademark. "I don't want you to hang around dogs, you hear me? They're dangerous and savage animals."

Jemima snapped her head up, ready to defend Butch at any cost. "He is not! Butch is a noble and honorable dog. He saved my life from two dogs and-"

"Exactly," Munkustrap interrupted, "two dogs tried to kill you, Jemima! Should we get your parents to see what they say?"

She lowered both her eyes and voice. "No, sir."

"Good. Now run home, I catch you with that dog again and I'll be ashamed to know a cat who befriends dogs. You should be ashamed to call yourself a Jellicle!"

Jemima turned and ran off to her house, tears streaming down her cheeks from Munkustrap's harsh words.

The next day was bright and sunny, with a blue sky and white fluffy clouds dotting it like sheep in a field. Jemima felt happy and brisk as she skipped along the sidewalk, dodging humans' feet and teasing dogs on leashes, little ones of course. She was on her way to the police station to see Butch, despite Munkustrap's words. She figured Munkustrap wasn't her father, not even the real Jellicle leader. He was just a bossy grump with no family that bossed cats around when Old Deuteronomy wasn't present.

There were several dogs at the police station, mostly German shepherds but a few dobermans and rottweilers. There was even an old bloodhound lying in the corner. Jemima slipped in as the door swung shut after a man exited the building. Staying close to the wall so not to be noticed, she slunk around looking for Butch.

Finally she found him, sitting obediently and straight beside his human. Jemima busied herself with grooming her fur until the human left and Butch stayed where he was. She crept silently over to Butch's side.

"Hi, Butch!" she said cheerfully.

Butch was startled by the sudden sound and bared his teeth for a minute, but Jemima wasn't scared. Purring, she crept up to rub against his flank. She smiled sweetly as Butch relaxed. He smiled back. "Jemima, what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. After all, you're my guardian canine."

Butch was about to say something, but suddenly a loud bark echoed across the room. He snapped to attention, his back went straight, his eyes looked in front of him at nothing, and his muzzle pointed straight ahead. Barely moving his lips, he whispered to Jemima, "Quick! Hide under my tail and stay quiet."

Jemima did as she was told, muttering. "Why? What's happening?"

"My boss is coming."

Jemima peeked out from under Butch's fuzzy tail at a big, strong-looking white German shepherd striding across the room. He glared up and down at each police dog he passed, who were standing rigid to attention, not moving or blinking.

The last dog he approached was Butch. Jemima saw a flash of his collar and read the name on it: Steel. Jemima got her first impression of Steel, and she didn't like him.

Steel walked in a circle around Butch, examining his attention stance. Jemima prayed to Heaviside he wouldn't see her.

"Good job, Sergeant," Steel finally said when he finished circling. What was a sergeant? "You mind telling me why you were late coming in last night?" he asked coldly. Butch took a deep breath.

"Was delayed, sir! Had to stop a couple of strays from fighting, sir! Never happen again, sir!" he barked in a monotonous voice as respectful as a Jellicle would have Deuteronomy. Steel nodded.

"I see, and can you tell me why it took you all evening to stop that fight?"

"No, sir!"

Steel nodded again. Then he sniffed Butch's fur, as if sensing something for a first time. "And can you tell me why you smell like a cat?"

"Yes, sir! Got mobbed by a few, sir! Chased me a few miles off course, sir! Took me awhile to lose them then get back to my patrol, sir!"

Steel nodded and hummed again. "For some odd reason I believe you, Sergeant. Be sure it doesn't happen again."

"Yes, sir!"

Butch stood to attention until Steel left the room. Jemima noticed the other dogs relax immediately after he was gone and she crept out from under Butch's tail. "I don't like him, Butch," she said.

"I don't either," the dog agreed. Jemima looked at him curiously.

"Then why do you do what he says and call him sir?"

Butch sighed. "I have to, or I can be kicked out of the force. I could lose my job. Then what would I do?"

Jemima perked up. "You could come live in the junkyard! We cats need someone to protect us from other big dogs that come around. You could protect us. We always have plenty of food, and a warm place to stay at night."

Butch shook his head and smiled at the naive kitten. "I'd love to Jemima, but most cats don't like us dogs. It's a specie thing, I think. I've heard humans do the same. They don't like each other because of their fur color or where they came from. I think it's called racism."

Jemima nodded solemnly. "I know. Our leader, well, sort-of-leader, started yelling at me yesterday because he saw me walking with you." Jemima's eyes started to tear again as she recalled Munkustrap's harsh words. "He said I should be ashamed to call myself a cat and to be friends with a dog. He said I don't belong with the other Jellicles..."

Butch licked her tears off her face. "Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Jemima wanted so hard to believe him.

It was night again, and Jemima was creeping back to the junkyard, hoping that no cat would see her. But fate was cruel. Not only was Munkustrap waiting, but so were her parents: Skimbleshanks and Jellylorum.

"Jemima!" Jellylorum ran to her and looked her over for injuries. "Are you alright? Where have you been? I've been worried sick about you!"

Skimble ran to join her. "Aye, missie. What d'ye think yer up to, runnin' off like that all day? Ye scared the whiskers right offa me! Thought ye'd been hit by a car!"

Jemima forced herself not to look at the scowling Munkustrap behind her parents. "You shouldn't worry about me, dad. I can take care of myself. Besides, Butch was-" she realized her mistake too late. "Oops."

At the mention of Butch, both her parents' faces went grim. Munkustrap strode up to them. "Well?"

Jemima couldn't face him or her parents. She stared at the ground and wished Butch was there. "I'm sorry," she whimpered.

Munkustrap's face didn't quiver. "That's what you said last time, but you still ran off to see that dog. I have half a mind to make an outcast out of you."

Jellylorum looked in horror at the gray tabby. "Munkustrap! You wouldn't dare!"

"Aye, exilin' our lit'le Jemima `cause she `ad a few encoun'ers with a dog? I though ye were better'n that, Strap."

Munkustrap stuck his nose in the air. "Rules are rules, and tradition law says that-"

"T' blast with tr'dition, Strap!" Skimble shouted, expressing his accent. "This's me daughter we're talkin' `bout! Ye exile `er'n ye'll `ave t' exile me `ole family!"

Skimble's whole family meant him, Jellylorum, his oldest daughter Victoria, middle daughter Etcetera, and youngest daughter Jemima, possibly even his sister Jennyanydots and her family, too. Munkustrap and Skimble were good friends, and Munkustrap hated to see the orange tabby mad at him like this. The anguish was plain on his face. He had to chose between friends, or to follow the rules that he'd lived by all his life. He clawed the ground and bit his lip.

"Sorry Skimble-"

Just `sorry' was enough for Jemima. She bolted away from the junkyard, her parents' voices calling for her to come back. She ran through the night-time city. Away from the junkyard. Away from the cruel Munkustrap and his stupid rules. Away from the Jellicles she grew up with. She dodged a car as she ran across the street, the lights blinding her and the horn bleeping in her ears, blotting out all other sound. She ran to the only place she could: the police station.

Completely by accident, she plowed into Steel's big leg. He whirled around and glared at her, baring his teeth. He saw a whimpering ball of kitten and relaxed; it wasn't an enemy.

"What do you want, kitty?" he asked belligerently.

"I want to see Butch," Jemima whimpered, though it was more like a demand.

Steel snorted. "Sorry, kitty, Butch got transferred this afternoon. Moved over to the next city with his human. So why don't you get on home."

The big dog turned and went into the station, leaving the kitten alone. Jemima turned and walked back down the steps. It started to rain, but Jemima barely felt it. All she felt was numbness. But then she remembered how Butch had saved her life. How he came flying over the wall like a great bird. How he single-pawed fought off those two dogs trying to get her. She smiled. She remembered the part of song she sang for the Jellicles at the Ball, now she thought she should sing it for Butch.

"Moonlight, turn your face to the moonlight, let your memory lead you, open up enter in,

If you find there the meaning of what happiness is, then a new life will begin."

As the last plaintive notes died away, Jemima chuckled and wondered: did dogs go to the Heaviside Layer? Maybe they had a special place of their own, a place where special dogs went up there to be reborn. She was sure Butch would go there someday. Maybe someday she'll see him again. Yes. When she got older and could travel by herself, she would go and find Butch, to thank him again for saving her life.

Jemima stood up and shook the rain from her coat. She turned her face toward the junkyard. She looked up. There was a bright star shining directly over the junkyard. Butch, she named it. That star was Butch, leading her way home. Jemima then ran home, home to her parents, home to Munkustrap, and home to the Jellicles to which she belonged and loved.

The end