Dusk is falling and I’m sitting by my fire, looking out at the grey swirls of mist that are only now and then broken by the steady drizzle of the rain against my windowpane.

Tonight’s the Ball. I’ve bought a fridge full of milk and meat, titbits, some rice – tomorrow morning I’ll have visitors. The people in the area think I’m crazy, but I don’t care. For my dearest and truest friends have never failed me. It has become a tradition for them to all have a feast in my kitchen together before they part ways again.

I smile as I take up my crochet work, and adjust my spectacles. I’m growing old…

When I was a child, I didn’t know, didn’t understand, but now I’m grateful for my gift – to know the language of animals. I don’t profess to be able to catch everything they say, but it’s enough for a decent conversation or discussion.

I have discovered, however, that I’m particularly apt at talking to cats. A few years ago, just after I had moved into this flat, I first heard them as they held their Ball at the junkyard. One of the cats was injured somehow and when I saw him limping past my door I took care of him. He never returned to his family, he stayed with me.

Munku is a wonderful cat – calm, fairly quiet – excellent company. I particularly enjoy his dry humour when we watch TV. He is more sarcastic than Jane Austen and he probably doesn’t even realise it. I reckon most of his cat-friends don’t know this side of him…

Three years ago I was invited to the Ball and Munku introduced me to his tribe, the Jellicles. Since then I have felt that they have adopted me. Never before did I have that many visitors! They drop by for a chat, some milk or water, though Demeter prefers water and Skimble won’t say no to some Scotch or Whiskey.

I’m glad to see that last year’s commotion has ebbed away; I was extremely worried…

~*~

It all started out in the usual way. The Jellicles had their ball at the junkyard and the day before, Skimble, Jenny and Bustopher came to spend the night as they’ve got a long journey. Jellylorum joined us for afternoon tea. She’s kind of lonely since Gus was chosen to go to the Heaviside Layer the year before.

It was a day much like today, misty, cold and rainy. Miserable weather, I wouldn’t have let my cats outside at all! Well, while we were watching the news and Skimble was remarking haughtily on the stupidity of the government in not lowering train fares, someone knocked on the window.

In fact, it was more like scratching – Munku heard it first and jumped off my lap to check it out. He returned a few moments later and bid me come with him to open the window. I went into the kitchen with him and who did I see? Wet, bedraggled and miserable, shivering in the pouring rain? Tugger!

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I let him in at once, and got a nice fluffy towel to dry him off. I noticed that his necklace was missing straight away, but didn’t remark on it. I gave him some warm milk and left him with Munku to talk.

I couldn’t wait to hear what was wrong, and I would have eaves-dropped, I admit, for, despite my years, I still have the curiosity of my youth…yet I held back.

Instead, I concentrated on Skimble rambling on with his newest stories, totally unperturbed by the new arrival. In fact, none of the cats showed any particular interest in who had come to call at this time of evening.

When Munku poked his head through the kitchen door and winked at me, I was up and in the kitchen almost immediately…so much for my age…

“Tugger’s been thrown out.” I was informed quietly and I saw that cool, level fire of displeasure in Munku’s eyes. It was hard to believe anyone would kick their cat out of his home like that, particularly in such weather, but I knew that questions wouldn’t be very welcome at the moment.

So I simply nodded, patted Tugger’s head lightly and told him he could stay. He was simply staring ahead and Munku beckoned for me to follow with a shake of his head in direction of my bedroom.

“I didn’t want to tell you the whole story with him in the room. He’s in a very bad way, I’m sure you’ll understand. I can hardly believe it! I will be the first one to admit that he’s spoilt and that his manners are dreadful at times, but…they can’t just…not now, not like this…”

Seldom have I seen Munku that agitated. He must have remembered what he felt like – he was a little kitten when he was given to a clergyman’s daughter for Christmas. Three years later, the girl grew tired of him and the family simply abandoned him when they moved to another place.

Even though he lived at the junkyard for most of his adult life and found his food on the street, Munku is the most gentleman-like cat I’ve met and he’s a fanatic for justice. Tugger’s story had deeply touched him, and it was with a sigh that he continued,

“The cat in your kitchen isn’t the old Tugger. He keeps repeating that he doesn’t understand – one day everyone loved him, the other they put him on the street…It would be bad enough for any cat, but when he has been adored and pampered all his life, it is especially difficult.”

“We’ll find a way to put it all to rights again, my dear,” I said, patting him and receiving a grateful look and throaty purr in reply. “He can stay with us as long as he likes. And I’ll ask a few of the ladies from my sewing circle if they’d like a cat. If Tugger doesn’t behave too bad, I’m sure we’ll find a nice new home for him…otherwise…well, I wouldn’t object to having him myself.”

Munku positively beamed at me, but he didn’t say anything else and so we returned to the living room and the TV set. Passing Tugger, I wrapped him up more tightly and, casting a questing look at my grey tabby, picked him up and carried him along.

~*~

After the news, Bustopher and Jenny fell to debating the good of educating mice in town households and Skimble became engrossed in ‘Across the World in 80 Days’, giving a snort of approval now and then.

I took up my crochet work again, Tugger still bundled and motionless in my lap and Munku curled up lazily at my feet, now and then giving the thread a gentle tug and purring contentedly.

Little did we know that this calm and peace would be broken so suddenly and irrevocably…

~*~

The day of the Ball, my flat was practically raided by cats. My neighbours gave me ‘the look’ again, but little did they know how much fun a tribe of cats can be…when they are kept under stringent control by Munku’s watchful eyes. He called Pouncival and Tumblebrutus to order repeatedly, otherwise I’d have had to get new curtains!

Bombalurina and Demeter appeared early in the afternoon. I wouldn’t have known of their approach, had I not seen Munku straightening up and brushing his coat an hour or so beforehand.

While the others were having titbits and drinks on my living room carpet, Tugger lay draped in front of the window, listlessly surveying the grey clouds in the sky. Neither Victoria nor Jemima could get a word out of him and so they departed, slightly put out.

I decided to bestow my attention on him, but was hindered by the arrival of Old Deuteronomy, Quaxo, Alonzo, Tantomile and Coricopat. I had to play hostess then and find the Jellicle leader a nice soft cushion, make some small talk. He’s not very good on his feet these days, I was wondering even then how long he’d make it.

Around dusk, my guests all disappeared into the twilight, Bombalurina returning to pick up Tugger after Munku and Demeter had marched off.

“I’m sure I’ll find a way to cheer him up, poor dear.” She said, with a decidedly mischievous twinkle in her eyes. If not for the fact that I know her to have a warm heart, I would have been anxious for Tugger…

I settled down in my armchair then, doing some more crocheting on my – almost – finished tablecloth that I was planning to donate to charity and went to bed early to be fresh for the feast the next day.

But – in the middle of the night – loud meows woke me up with a start. I had never before heard a more mournful sound, it chilled my blood – and I grabbed my dressing gown, shuffling to the front door as fast as I could.

Opening it, I was met by a nervous wreck, a shadow of the calm cat I spent such a long time living with. Munku seemed positively wild and when I bent down towards him, he whispered hoarsely,

“Have you seen Demeter? Any of the others? We…Macavity attacked again…we were all scattered…have to find her…”

There was nothing I could have said to calm him. All the stories I’ve heard of that cat would make him the equal of any mafia boss or highly intelligent mass murderer… I slowly shook my head, just managing to say: “I’ll stay awake if you need me…” before Munku bolted away down the street.

A soft drizzle started and I made myself a cup of strong tea, little dreaming what I was in for. There was a shuffling in front of my door an hour or so later and when I opened, goodness, I’ve never been that shocked!

Bombalurina lay on my front step, bleeding from deep scratches, unable to stand, her breathing ragged. Just at that moment, Munku, Alonzo and Tugger appeared at the end of the street. They raced up to me when I lifted the poor cat carefully and carried her into the kitchen.

While I looked up the pet clinic’s number in the phone book, Bombalurina whispered something to Munku, all I heard was a sound much like Demeter and he drew back, snarling, his eyes unnaturally dark and clouded. “I’ll kill him this time!” and he was bolting towards the door.

Guessing that Demeter was in danger and Munku was hurrying to the rescue, I engaged the other cats, “Tugger, go after Munku and make sure he doesn’t lose his head; Alonzo, go find whoever you can and bring them here!”

“I don’t think I’ll be much help to M…”

“You WILL go after him! Alonzo lives in the neighbourhood and knows all the hiding places! You follow Munku!”

Tugger looked at me for a moment, assessing my mental state it seemed, then gave the equivalent of a shrug and headed after the grey tabby. His look at the injured cat on my kitchen table didn’t escape me. Alonzo took another look at Bombalurina as well, I just nodded, assuring him I’d take care of her, and he left.

After what seemed like ages, I got hold of a vet and blurted out about the poor cat’s injuries. I had already done my best to clean the scratches and stop the bleeding and it seemed as if I had succeeded, but I wanted to make sure.

“Breathing? Yes, that’s much better now, but I still…”

He told me to bring Bombalurina round tomorrow for a check-up and hung up. When I wanted to ring someone else, anyone, the injured cat shook her head.

“Will be alright…not too bad…need rest only…”

I nodded, and though I wasn’t perfectly convinced I did my best to make her comfortable and bind her wounds.

~*~

It was almost dawn when the next set of cats came round. All were at my house now – all except for Munku, Tugger and Demeter.

Quaxo and Alonzo organised a search party, while I warmed what seemed like endless amounts of milk for the cold cats that were strewn about the flat.

I was kept busy tucking them in all the shawls, rugs, towels and knitted blankets I found. It particularly seemed that the older cats had spent a most uncomfortable night hidden in a damp street corner, huddling together for warmth, but being thoroughly drenched all the same, and were wet and freezing.

I was already preparing myself for the worst, when the frequent patrols in the neighbourhood returned with no news of Munku, Tugger and Demeter.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine, I’m sure.” For all the conviction he meant to put in his voice, Old Deuteronomy seemed as uncertain and worried as I was. It was an eerie quiet that day. There were hardly any cars on the streets and I finally managed to sit down beside Jenny and Skimble.

“Will you tell me what happened last night?”

“We were celebrating, as usual. Then, just as we were having a bit of a nap, Macavity appeared. He was laughing and his thugs were all around. We fought them off, but there were so many!”

“It was horrible! I’ve met those brutes before, but never, in my life, have they scared me that much! And it didn’t even seem as if Macavity was out to get Old Deuteronomy this time!”

“Only wanted to break up the celebration and wreak havoc on us!”

Jenny snorted irritably. “He sure managed it! We all ran!”

That was about all I got out of the cats, no one knew any more. It was most disconcerting and I suppressed a few sighs as I sipped my tea.

Bombalurina stirred now and then, moaning in pain, but when I suggested taking her to the vet, she steadfastly refused to go.

“Others will need the vet a lot more.”

“Like Demeter?”

”She wasn’t that bad off when I last saw her. Macavity’s thugs separated us, they dragged me away, beat me up…and left me. It took me a while to remember the way to your place…”

I nodded, growing more uncomfortable by the minute. Where were those cats?

~*~

It was raining hard that evening, and I had already given up hope of ever seeing them alive again, when Tantomile and Coricopat sidled to the window, pressing their noses against the pane.

“They are returning at last.”

Before they had even finished their sentence, I threw the door open and leaned heavily against the doorframe to brace myself against what I saw: Tugger was carrying Munku on his back, Demeter by his side, both wet and bloody, stumbling along almost blindly.

Quaxo and Alonzo brushed past me to help them and I called a taxi at once. Whether they wanted to or not, I was taking them to the clinic!

I left the other cats to guard my home, and set my face in a stony mask, ignoring the cabby’s insolent stare at the four bundles of cats in my two huge baskets.

Thankfully, the vet at the clinic took my worry seriously and had a look at my dears at once. Munku had a few broken ribs, deep, nasty scratches and needed some stitches. Demeter and Bombalurina were ordered rest and had their wounds thoroughly cleaned and disinfected.

“A few bruises, exhaustion, it’s not too bad. No need to worry.”

Poor Tugger had to have his right front paw set to rights, as he had sprained it in a bad way, a few cuts had to be seen to, but thankfully neither he nor the others had sustained any inner injuries.

Tufts of fur were missing from all their coats, though Tugger (who did have the most fur in the first place) looked suspiciously like a plucked hen.

We didn’t speak on the drive back home, though Demeter laid her paw on Munku’s head when he stirred in his sleep. He had been sedated, though I’m pretty sure that he had been unconscious anyway.

~*~

There was no great welcome among the cats, they all moved away quietly and respectfully when I tucked the invalids up and ordered them to come and visit in twos and threes in two days’ time.

It was for breakfast the next morning, that Munku woke up again, and the look he gave Tugger and Demeter spoke volumes.

Still, I didn’t ask them, and it was exceptionally quiet till evening (except for my neighbours calling one after the other to tell me that they didn’t approve of my making a home for stray cats out of my flat).

After the news, I left the living room to Bombalurina and Tugger, who were curled up around each other on my sofa, nuzzling.

When I got a glass of milk from the fridge, Munku, who was lying in a huge basket by the heater with Demeter, spoke up,

”Would you like to hear what happened?”

I simply nodded and sat on a chair beside them. Demeter rubbed her face against Munku’s neck and began haltingly,

“Bombalurina and I were…attacked by…Macavity. They separated us and he…took me along with him. I tried to get away, but… They brought me to a dark…corner and Macavity…was gloating, threatening me…I didn’t understand at first…”

She averted her eyes a moment, then looked at me again. “He wanted revenge for the beating he received the last time he came against us.”

“Bombalurina told me where to find Demeter and…I didn’t think. Tugger caught up with me round the corner though and blocked my path. He was snarling and bellowing that it wouldn’t do either of us any good to lose our heads now.”

I grinned, it was somehow hard to imagine Tugger being serious like that.

“It didn’t take us all that long to find the place and we…challenged Macavity.”

“Tugger threw himself at those thugs – he was…”

”Furious.”

”He tried to rip their throats out, kept growling that they’d pay for Bombalurina.”

”Demeter told her this, of course. She was flattered…”

If I hadn’t known that cats are pretty unlikely to smirk, I could have sworn that Munku’s face wore just that expression and Demeter’s eyes held a certain tinge of…amusement.

“It was about time the two of them had a serious talk.”

Munku cast a glance at her then and she looked away, as if embarrassed. She continued softly,

“Munkustrap and Macavity were having a cat-fight – it was worse than the one they had before, this time they were both aiming to kill, not merely to severely injure.”

”It was a matter that had to be settled.”

I didn’t need to be told to understand the statement – Macavity had stood between Munku and Demeter from the start. He had threatened their relationship time and again and now…

“He’s dead.”

There was no satisfaction in Demeter’s voice, only relief. Munku inclined his head thoughtfully and I took my cue, standing up and slipping from the room quietly.

~*~

Much has changed since then – Demeter has moved in with us, she and Munku have had lovely kittens, I’ve kept them all, as it doesn’t really matter, what with Tugger and Bombalurina here anyway. Alonzo is staying over much longer as well, though he still goes to other places now and then…

I know that Old Deuteronomy will resign this year, and will journey to the Heaviside Layer. There is no doubt about it, everyone knows it, I feel it.

It’s good to know they’ll be coming along for their feast tomorrow. I will lay by my crochet work and get some sleep.

Cats are, after all, pretty demanding creatures…and that’s why I’m so happy to have them in my life – there’s no time for loneliness with them all around…


THE END.

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