The black and white kitten slowly struggled through the slush-filled streets of London. The rain had turned to ice overnight, and the streets became mud. Countless pedestrians walked to and fro, barely managing to side step the small kitten. A few had even tried to hit him with their bicycles on purpose, sometimes doubling back to have another go. The kitten padded softly, trying to put the least amount of pressure on his sore paws as possible. He had been walking for seemingly endless days, eating rubbish, sleeping in the gutter. His coat, once a glossy ebony, had now turned into a dull shade of deep brown, and his white patches of fur were now gray. His eyes watered from all the dirt kicked up by people in their endless rush. How he longed for his mother! But she was no longer here. Only a few weeks after he had been brought into the world, she had been taken out of it. Now he had been left to fend for himself on the streets. The kit sat down in a shaded alleyway to rest. He peered first down one street, and then down another. Both looked exactly the same to him, so he randomly chose a pathway and continued walking. His exhaustion caused him to hardly notice where his feet were taking him, until he at last stopped in front of a large junkyard. The fence surrounding it was in great need of repair, and the rain had turned the ground into sludge. Still, it probably had some shelter that the kit could stay in until the next morning. He slowly walked inside, careful not to tread on any sharp bits of metal that had fastened themselves in the ground. The kitten soon found a moldy old cardboard box, and hurrying to escape the pouring rain, quickly flipped it onto its side to make a temporary shelter. He curled up tightly inside the rotten cardboard, trying to keep himself safe from the cold. Finding sleep impossible due to the sharp tapping of the rain on the roof of his box and the constant icy wind biting through his thin fir, the kitten laid his head on his paws and watched the rain, until he soon found his thoughts wandering. He thought about the rain; he thought about the strays, he thought about the kids on bikes, and his endless walking. The kitten turned over, and unbidden, his mother’s image rose before his eyes. The tiny kitten found himself remembering her constant purr, and her soft grey coat making a safe place to rest when he was tired. How she loved to play with him indoors when the skies were grey with rain, and how they enjoyed laying in the grass when they weren’t. She would snatch a bit of chicken or turkey to share with him as they watched the birds in the trees. She had been his only family, a constant provider of warmth, food, safety, and love. Two drops of warm water slid down youngster’s face, wetting his thin cheeks. His mother was gone, and now he had not a relative in the world. He had never felt so alone in his young life. The small kitten eventually managed to doze off into a fitful sleep, and he woke to see the morning sun peering through the clouds.
Simple things like the sun can do much to lighten the spirit, and the small kit prepared to leave his shelter considerably more cheerful then he had entered it. The kitten slowly looked about the junkyard, pawing through the endless piles of trash. It looked like a promising place to scrounge for food. He slowly picked through junk piles, upturning discarded bits of rubbish. However, as hard as he tried, he could find no food. It was as though the junkyard had been picked clean by a swarm of locusts. The wind suddenly changed direction, and the kitten’s keen nose caught a whiff of fish. He almost ran towards the delicious smell, but his blistered and battered paws forced him to walk. He crawled over and around several junk piles before discovering the source of the delicious aroma, a large slab of nearly-fresh fish. The starving kitten quickly moved towards it when an orange blur appeared in the corner of his eye. The kit moved back towards a junk pile as swiftly as his aching paws would let him, and watched as an orange tabby cat crept out of a junk pile, closely followed by a smaller replica.
“I suppose we should toik this back tew Munku, then, luv?” The bigger cat asked as the small one let out a high-pitched giggle.
“Sure, woi not? Then moybe ‘e’ll lighten up a bit.” The smaller one said with a grin. They looked at each other with identical Cheshire-cat smiles, before taking up the fish and hauling it towards an unseen area. The small kitten almost let out a frustrated cry, before stopping himself just in time. He didn’t want to alert the other cats of his presence. When the tabbies had vanished from sight, the hungry kit let out a yowl of anger and despair. Why did they have to take his food anyway? He needed it more then they did! He began to walk slowly walk towards the junkyard exit, his empty stomach growling with every step. He hadn’t eaten in nearly three days, and his skin hung loose from his frame. Suddenly his vision began to swim, and he collapsed on the ground, unable to move. He faintly heard someone padding towards him, before numbness completely seized his mind.
The kitten awoke to see a white cloud floating above him. ‘That’s odd…’ he thought to himself. He blinked again, and saw that it was actually a rag. His vision cleared, and he saw a dark-colored queen sitting over him, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth. Startled, he tried to jump up, but found he was too weak to even lift a paw. The queen suddenly ran out of the room, and returned with another cat, this time a grey tabby.
“See, Munku? Mom told you he’d wake up!” She said, pointing a grubby paw at the black kitten, who flinched as though she’d hit him.
‘Munku’ simply looked at the kitten thoughtfully.
“Well, bring your mother in here, and she’ll clean him up.” He said simply to the brown queen, before turning to go outside. He then stopped, and looked at the black kitten again, before exiting the small room. The queen also turned to look before following the tabby out the door.
The terrified kitten rolled off the bed and shakily got to his feet.
“What am I doing here? What’s gonna happen to me?” He frantically asked himself, searching for an escape route. He advanced a few small steps, before falling down again. He pulled himself to his feet and walked a bit more, before falling onto the hard dirt again. His legs sagged, and his head pounded unmercifully. Each time he drew a breath, his chest felt as though it were full of knives. Still, he continued on, sometimes walking and sometimes crawling over the floor. His paws had become inflamed, and each step was like stepping on needles. The kit finally managed to reach the door, and fighting for consciousness, slowly opened it. Moonlight streamed in, its soft light harsh upon the kitten’s eyes. He managed a few more steps before falling to the ground again. He heard a voice coming towards him, and tried to blindly scurry away. He tripped over a rock, and before he could hit the hard-packed dirt, he was grabbed by the scruff of his scrawny neck. A soft voice whispered calming words in the kit’s ear, and he found he had no strength left to struggle, so he stayed still. He was gently carried to the den he had tried so hard to get out of, and laid back on a pile of old papers. He was scarcely conscious of anything except the burning pain in his paws and the pounding of his head, so he didn’t notice the maternal cat bustling around, wrapping the tiny kitten in old blankets. She gently took one of the kit’s paws in her own, and noticed to herself that the kit involuntarily shuddered and drew back. He was half-awake, so she let him sit for awhile. Eventually, the warmth of the room and the softness of his makeshift bed made the exhausted kit fall into a deep sleep. ‘Jellylorum’, as she was called by the other cats, gently took the paws of the kitten, began to gently clean them. When the tiny kit was sufficiently cleaned up, Jellylorum called for her daughter, Electra, to look after the kit and call her when he woke up.
The ever curious Electra immediately agreed to do so, and she sat and watched him for a few minutes, before finally growing bored as kittens are apt to do when not closely watched. She began pawing at a stray moonbeam that had managed to enter the shabby dwelling when the kit stirred. She turned to look at him. His eyes were still tightly shut, but he was mumbling something unrecognizable in his sleep. She strained her ears and caught the word ‘Macavity’. She quickly ran back towards where her mom was.
“Momma! Momma!” she said, gasping for breath. Jellylorum rushed over to her daughter.
“What is it, Electra?” She asked.
“He was muttering something about Macavity, momma!” she said, looking proud of herself. Jellylorum started. Surely the small kitten wasn’t an agent of the dreaded Napoleon of Crime, was he? Nonsense, she told herself. I’m jumping to conclusions. She put her ear near the kitten’s mouth, and heard him faintly whisper ‘Macavity’. Jumping up, she was about to go tell Munkustrap of the small kit’s words, but another quiet word drew her attention. Listening more carefully, she could clearly understand the word he was uttering urgently.
“Momma!” he cried. Jellylorum’s heart broke then and there to here those words spoken in such sad tones by such a tiny kitten.
“Oh, the poor dear.” She purred, stroking the kit’s soft fur. The kitten immediately drew towards the maternal cat and clutched to her as though she were his lifeline.
“Momma.” He murmured as a smile slowly spread across his face. Jellylorum curled up around the small kitten.
“Momma’s here.” She whispered in his ear.
“Give me the kit.”
“No!”
“Give him to me!”
“Never, you monster!”
“You will pay for your insolence.” The ginger cat snarled, swiping at the other feline. The smoky gray cat stood firm, pushing her young son behind her.
“You’ll never get your filthy paws on him!” She hissed, ducking his blow and administering one of her own. She raked her claws across the other’s back, drawing a howl of pain and anger.
“Whore!” The red and black cat shrieked, before suddenly thrusting his razor sharp claws into her neck. The silver female screamed and fell to the ground. Her son watched her drop in shock.
“Momma!” He yelled, running towards her. Macavity reached towards him, his paw still wet from the female’s blood.
“Come with me.” He ordered the small tom, grabbing him by the neck. The black and white cat struggled as much as he could, trying to get out of the ginger cat’s strong grasp. Then, mimicking his mother, he scraped his needle-sharp claws across his captor’s hide. Macavity dropped the young tom, and the black cat ran as fast as he was able. He ducked down alleyways, and wove in between street vendors who were yelling their prices up and down the lane. He dodged cars hurtling down the roadway, and sidestepped pedestrians who were quickly walking on the sodden pavement. Although he knew he lost Macavity long ago, the kitten didn’t stop running. When he could go no further, the small kit collapsed in a doorway to rest. His usually-gleaming coat was spattered with rust-colored droplets of his mother’s blood. The kitten stared at the red on his coat in shock. Upon realizing what it was, he began to furiously scratch at it with his claws.
“Momma!” He screamed hysterically. “Momma! Momma! Momma!” He broke down in a fit of sobbing, still shrieking his mother’s name. He sunk to the pavement, his face buried in his paws, when everything blissfully went black.
The ebony kitten woke up just as the dawn was creeping through the trees. He had had the dream again, the same one which had haunted his fitful sleep for weeks. As he started to fully awake, he felt a strange warmth beside him and turned around, before finding himself curled up inside the paws of a strange calico cat. He furiously tried to pull away from her, frightened out of his mind. The calico stirred and saw with some amusement the small kitten trying to get away.
“Don’t worry, little one, I won’t hurt you.” She said reassuringly. The kitten’s instincts told him to run, but the lilt and tone of her voice soothed him.
“I’m Jellylorum. Welcome to the Jellicle Junkyard. Who are you, dear?” Jellylorum asked as she tried to find some milk for the hungry kit. The black and white kitten stared at her for a moment.
“Q…quaxo.” He finally managed to stutter.