The Life of Peculiar Cat Burglar: Episode One

Meet Peculiar Cat Burglar, a spoiled housecat who one day finds himself at a cat shelter with other quirky oddball cats:  Sweet Marie, Too Raloo, Javelin, and Loki, a vanishing cat.  Covers three chapters with brief intro.  No violence, no bad language, perfect for night-time story-telling.

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Hello everyone and welcome to the life of the peculiar autobiography. Nine years old and older who loves stories of animals. Especially animals who tell their own stories like beauty for example. After living the life of the spoiled healthcare, the burglar has to find a place for himself that a big cat shelter. The shelter is a totally weird place. But burglar has to learn to adapt somehow. Episode one is about what was. What was always comes before what is. What is follows in episode two? And the final episode, episode three, is about what will be. Some episodes are longer than others. But that's only because burglar has such a lot to tell you. Peculiar or burglar, as everyone calls him. He's a cat with a kind and a deadie heart. A very likable guy. Actually, he looks exactly like a canada link or a bobcat. Well peculiar. And Burglar makes a lot of other cats out of each other. As odd as he is. A man a Turkish man, a mango, as a breed born without a tail. A Norwegian fairy cat who can vanish into the air. And a scary F1. Wait till you hear how Burglar and the little shelter cats deal with them. So welcome to The Life of Peculiar, an autobiography. Now let's get started. Chapter one A Flashy Collar and a Funny Name. I just wasn't prepared for any of this. Weird places and new faces. This new life I landed in changed me. Everyone I met changed me. Some would be kind and some would be sad, and some would be neither kind nor sad. Some would be big and some would be bad. Some that I thought were big and bad turned out to be more than a little mad. I changed them and they changed me for all time. You can decide if they changed me for the good. This first part is about what was. What was always comes just before what is. I'll tell about what is in a moment. I don't know what will be. We'll just have to see. But I'll let you know what I think what will be if we get that far. Just so you know, I weigh twenty pounds and measure thirty two and a half inches nose to tail. Slim and wiry enough to be able to leap and land on top of cabinets seven feet high. Easy peasy. First, you've got to eyeball wherever you plan on landing. Measure the distance with your eyes just by staring and squinting. Then you gather up all four paws beneath you, get coiled up like, and leap. Power up, up, up. Like a slinky toy set to warp speed. I'd say anybody could do it, but I wouldn't recommend it unless you're a cat. The reason I say that is because I can leap five times the length of my body. That's five times thirty two and a half inches from a standstill and land wherever I like. Pretty cool, eh? It's what I do. It's what we cats have always done. Us, Philus catus. That's cat in Latin. We're even older than our oldest name. You can do lots of great things, but you can't stand leap and land seven feet high. Don't even try. Make me a promise. Promise me you'll never try. I'll hold off on my story so you can promise me now. Okay, then we're good. Now for introductions. I am peculiar cat burglar, or so my birth certificate says. Moira, my loving owner, always called me burglar. A burglar is a robber, a thief, a bandit. Someone anyway, who takes things that don't belong to them. As far as I can figure, there was once a famous someone named Kat Burglar. He was a thief by night and an innocent house cat by day. Or maybe he turned into a cat at night, and into a thief by day, I'm not sure. Anyway, Moira had such fun with my name when she called me home because everyone around thought she had been robbed. At first, she'd stand at the door, stamp her feet and yell Burglar, burglar, you come back right now. People froze in their tracks. They'd get all spooked and scared. Their heads turned and swiveled like swizzl sticks. Then Moira would sing out softer Burglar Burglar, come home, sweetie. Come home, burglar. There were snort and some chuckles when I trot along by. Jump in Jehosaphat, it's only a cat. Sometimes a sour puss snarked Dumb name for a cat lady. Ah, there's always one silly sasser in every troop. Moira just had a great sense of humor, a real funny boom, that's all. A community service, I called it, brightening up a cheerless day. You have to admit it was funny. We understood each other perfectly, Moira and I. She'd adopted me when I was only eight weeks old. I don't know how old she was, but she hadn't changed at all in the past six years. Our life together was pretty much what you'd expect. Or it was, until the day she gave me that flashy collar. Don't get me wrong, I never minded wearing a neck strap. Even that itchy nylon stuff, if it made Moira happy. Several got uh lost. And sometimes it wasn't even my fault. She always replaced them and clipped on the small pendant with scribbling on it. Writing, you'd call it. That pendant was supposed to be shaped like a heart. I have to say, I have never seen a heart that looked like that, and I've seen many hearts in my outdoor hunts, all kinds. Six months ago, Moira removed the one I had on, even before I'd had time to lose it. Oh, aren't you going to be the best dressed cat in town, my sweet burglar? Oh you will, you will. You just wait and see what I got for you this time. Moira pulled open a drawer and took out a blue velvet box. I jumped on the bed. Now let's be clear about something. I want to make sure you know because most people don't. My job is to make people laugh. I'm a house cat, after all. House cats have to work for room and board. It's a serious cat thing. What that involves is meowing for food and then turning my nose up at it, rolling madly from side to side and pawboxing the air, hiding in boxes and closets, or night table cuppies, dashing madly from one room to another, or all through the house. Wrestling with mops or brooms, even a duster will do. Chasing flies who'd got in without my permission, that's a full day's mission. Swatting those lazy catnip mice, they had to be batted around a lot. Pouncing on shadows and lights on the walls and the floors. It's my job and I do it diligently every day, in every way I can think of. Besides, it's fun. In fact, I did pretty much anything to make Moira smile. So as soon as she sat down on the bed beside me, I jumped off. Oh burglar, come on back up, come on, she said. With one hand she clicked the latch on the velvety box. The top popped open. Moira turned it toward me. You see, she said with a sweet smile, this lovely collar is just for you. She turned it side to side. See how it sparkles and shines? Gee, whiskers, I could only stare, green eyes popping at this thing that was shooting light out everywhere. This was a collar? It was, it really was. I'd just never seen a collar do that before. The starry bits, there were five, stuck out of a greeny blue collar with a clasp made of silver. Come on over here, little boy, she said as she pulled it out of its box. Come over here and let me put this on you. First things first, and the first thing I had to do was grab the thing with my paws and shake information out of it. Was it alive? Did it know how to play? Was it an eatable? A treat, perhaps? Did it fit in my mouth? Yes, but eow the starry bits were sharp. Moira watched me with delight, already knowing, I guess, that no, it wasn't edible, and no, it wasn't alive. After a bit, she gently twirled it out of my paws. It isn't a toy, little sweetie, far from it. This she continued, lacing the collar between her fingers. Well, all my years of life and love are inside these sparkly jumping lights. Then she bowed her head. I leapt back onto the bed and crept onto her lap. Moira was crying, but whatever about? What could I do but stay close and keep her warm? I washed her wet cheek with my tongue. As she wept, I purred deep and loud. Like I said, that was six months ago. I got used to the starry collar. It was much heavier than the others, and impossible to wriggle out of, and believe me, I tried every which way. I soon forgot about its saber-like lights and wore it snug around my neck. All that time, though, what worried me was Moira was losing weight and ailing somehow. She was sick. I started bringing her more of my catch, a few young birds, and once even a small mouse. I dropped them right on the front porch so she couldn't miss them. I thought they might stir up her appetite, but it was no go. We'd always been close, but now we got closer. When she lay on the bed with her hand on her head, I'd rub my left cheek on hers. My left cheek's my love cheek. Moira knew that, and now you do too. Her sleeping all the time was another big change. Moira was spending more time sleeping than even I did snoozing. I had no idea that I was about to lose my forever friend. The day that caller came, everything changed. That's when what was became what is. I had to grow up and fast. At the cat shelter, I woke up inside my carrier cage, facing out. I couldn't believe my eyes. I'd never seen so many cats, and only cats, no dogs or rabbits or foxes or fish, just cats. And people in white coats were sprinkled like polka dots standing along two long hallways, a few here, a few there. Moira was nowhere I could see. I knew she wouldn't be there, but I looked for her anyway. Old habits are hard to break. I remember the last night I spent with Moira. The moon was so big and full, its rays streamed through and lit up the room. I crept onto her chest. She could see me easily if she opened her eyes. That way she knew I loved her best. I tucked in my paws and lay my head down for our last snooze together. The day after, a man dressed all in blue came. What do you plan to do with the cat? The man in blue asked Moira's brother Noah. They both looked down at me. I was curled up in my own bed by then. Shelter, I guess, Noah replied. I can't take him. I've got two dogs and a cat as it is. Noah let out a big sigh. We can call animal control if you want the cat out of the way. For now, anyway, the man in blue said. And this one's got his claws, mine doesn't, Noah went on, now hunched down, stroking my neck. My sister Moira didn't believe in it, declawing a cat, said it was barbaric to do that to an animal, especially a hunter. Noah smiled a crumply sort of smile at me. Ha big game hunter, a big guy. Anyway, mine stays indoors, Noah continued. Burglar's an outdoor cat. I had an outdoor cat when I was a kid, a huge orange tabby. Big paws and claws on him. Big he could climb like a monkey. The man in blue nodded. This one sure is handsome, impressive. Looks just like a bobcat or a lynx. Just like. Just smaller. A cat called Burglar, eh? Well, that accounts for the diamond collar. Burglar's done well for himself, he said with almost a grin. Noah slipped a finger under my flashy collar. These really glitter. Maybe they're real rhinestones. It wouldn't surprise me. Moira always got the best for Burglar. He was her best friend. So here I am, wherever here is. Whatever had made me sleep so long was wearing off. A good shake of the head should finish it off. Done and done. I was hungry, very hungry, and I could do with a long visit to the litter box. So I meowed. Soft muse in little bursts at first, then full throated. Mew Yeah, full throated means loud. A young woman in a white coat hurried over to me. I stood up, and that's when I realized that my collar was gone. The young woman in the white coat helped me out of the carrier. I could see that none of the other cats had a collar on. How do they know who's who? I don't mind about my own flashy collar. It it was a bit of a drag anyway. But what made me sad was that it was all I had left of my dear sweet Moira. By nightfall I was exhausted. I'd been prodded and pricked and weighed and measured by the white coats all day long. The other cats just lounged around and watched, some thinking better him than me and others with looks that said Been there, done that, oh hum. Finally, I curled up on a fuzzy blanket between two cats just as big as I was. The good looking main coon spoke first. Do you know where you are, Longhair? she asked in a soft breezy voice. I do, thank you for asking. And I am an Abyssinian longhair, also known as a Somali, a great and ancient cat breed. My name is Peculiar Cat Burglar, uh Pex for short, I whiskered, always a little self important when among my own. Do you have a name? I continued, turning to wash my left paw. I didn't want to appear too interested. I am Sweet Marie Peccadillo. You may call me Marie, she murmured. Or sweet if you prefer. She sent a shudder all the way up her tail, just so you know, that's a sure sign that a cat wants to be your friend. Then, kinking her great bushy tail to the left, sweet Marie said, And beside you is Tourulou. Lowering her voice, she murmured, a silver tabby, of no special breed, as you can see, but very agreeable nonetheless. I thought your name was Burglar, Tourulou blurted out, pretending he hadn't heard what Marie had said about him. Oh, well, that's just one of my nicknames. Hey, how would you know that, uh, Tourou? I replied, a bit surprised. I heard Marnie and Tippy giggling when they read the name on your collar, just before they filed it away in that big steel box. Hey, what does burglar mean anyway? Why were they laughing? It's just another word for robber, I answered, waving a paw. It's no big deal. It's a joke, see. Sweet Marie gently pawed my head out of the way and whispered Let me explain, Burglar. I'm so much better at these things than most cats are. Now listen carefully, Tulu, she began, tapping one paw on the blanket. Some thieves, human ones, that is, steal. Burgling, it's called, only at night, and they do it all so quietly that they're compared to cats, 'cause cats only hunt at night, and cats are so silent that nobody ever hears them. Thus, cat burglar Ta you see, she went on, looking happily from me to Touru and back again. His name is Burglar, and he is a cat. Burglar the cat. So cat burglar. Delighted with herself, Marie turned and got grooming, while me and Tourel exchanged a look. I still don't get it, said Tourulu gloomily. I mean, you're not a thief, are you? And if you're not a thief, but you are a cat, well how does that make you a cat burglar? Maybe a cat burglar is really someone who steals cats, you know, like a shoe salesman, a person who sells shoes. See what I mean? Never mind two. It's not important, I replied, gently headbutting his shoulder. Now it really hit me. What was was no longer. What is was now stronger. Weird places and new faces. I was at a cat shelter. Street cats talked about these places all the time. I thought it was just cat crew gibber and jabber. No more walkabouts, no more hunting, no more cozy nights cuddled up in Moira's arms watching light shows on TV. No more family, no more home. Like I said at the beginning, I just wasn't prepared for any of this. Chapter two Weird Places and New Faces. I did a rough count of my of cellmates about sixty. But what with all the comings and goings here today, gone tomorrow, that number was always changing. Three days ago, a litter of Siamese kittens had arrived, and poof only two of the six were left. Some visitors had carried the rest off, the kitten snuggled up in their jackets. It seems that Siamese is a popular breed. Sweet Marie, who had the job of naming, named the two remaining kittens Allie and Luya. And the reason was Darla and Daphne, the two big calico colored sisters. When the kits were first brought in, Darla and Daphne shouted ALLUYA and scooted right over to give them all a good wash. I couldn't go walk about outdoors, so I decided to check out the up and the down of our cat space. The two long hallways ended in a big round playroom full of lots of cat trees, some as tall as giraffes well, almost and the outside wall of the playroom wasn't a wall at all. It was made all of glass, from ceiling to floor. The window ledge went all around the glass like a belt, wide enough for a sit down or a snooze in the sun. Cat beds and toys were scattered all about, and the few cages I saw had no doors, so you could step in and step out whenever you wanted. So basically every space held a cat, and every cat had a space those that got along with each other, that is. My daily stroll have turned into kinda like patrols. I cut some pushy cats rough pawing some of the littler ones. In fact, the day after my talk with Marie and Tuulu, I spied a bigger than most orange tabby, name of Javelin, taking swats at a young Manx called Theo Manx cats are born without tails. Javelin was hissing softly Why don't you show us your tail, Theo? You know what they say No tail no cat I stood up as Javelin took a swipe, just missing Theo's ear. Theo's eyes blinked in fear, and he scrunched further and further into his own fur Come on you tailless Manx. Stand up and be a cat Haavlin spat out with disgust. Why you're not a cat. You're a freak I walked towards them slowly at first, then I began to trot and picked up my speed. Javelin's massive back was facing me, his long mouse or ears up stiff and still. The other cats sat up and took notice. Some moved out of my way. Others stayed put, so I detoured around them. Still others, eager for some cat on cat action, crept alongside me, ears up and tails ramrod straight. It was old Babbler finally, who warned Javelin that I was making my way towards him. Babbler was rarely if ever quiet. Babbler was an ancient breed, known as an oriental cream, with a loud, screechy voice Babler cried Something's happening here Looks like yes, looks like New Boy taking a stand here and a good match too Big Bobby cat and javelin, yep, an even match for size Yes indeedy two bigly boys about to go at it Best get out of the way, Theo Newboy taking a stand here get in line, get in line Out of my way, nutbar y silly sloth, I can't see As Babbler babbled on, Javlin's ears flicked backwards full back. I stopped a foot behind him, and curly cued my tail I was ready for action. As slow as a snail, Javelin turned his head. His coppery eyes were wary and wide, his whiskers were switching and twitching. Looking for someone new boy? he mumoured, his top fur straight up and bristly You I was looking for you, I replied, as I casually washed an ear And you are he inquired, as he inched closer to Theo. I am burglar, and I would like to chat with Theo, and you are in the way Oh I'm in the way, am I? And what do you want to chat about? Such a sorry excuse for a cat can have nothing to say. Look at him craven and cowering and those kangaroo legs Javlin grueled, shaking his head in disgust Why he's not a cat at all not a bit, he hissed softly like the rest of us I'd heard enough. Enough is enough Enough can be sufficient or it can be too much Javelin sky leaped, shocked and just a little bit rocked. Everyone looked from one to the other Javelin Javelin had got cat bobbed. A cat bob is so embarrassing First time ever, one said Didn't think it was possible, Mutisalki other done before exclaimed a third. Astonished that Javelin could be so admonished said a fourth. Obviously he was a Reimenheimer Javelin big eyed me. I could almost hear what he was thinking Abyssinian long hair bigger than most not tall but all muscle I knew right away that Javelin wasn't a fighter by nature. If he were I'd be marred and scarred by now and that would be the end of our story. Pretty sad, pretty grim. You'd close this book, put it away on a shelf somewhere and go off to play outside I myself avoided fighting at all costs but I got it. I understood Javelin had battle scars some of us had to fight for survival or for food or when some people some not all and certainly not you chased us with kicks or sticks Javlin wasn't mean. He was sad confused too maybe and terribly hurt inside himself where none of us could see how hurt he was Come on Javelin I didn't hurt you your brain just needed a reboot Hey listen I'll make a deal with you what kind of a deal Javelin answered sullenly There are a lot of us here some small, some injured or sick, some just baby orphans. You and me, we're strong and being strong means sticking up for others who can't stand up for themselves Look I stretched out my paws and went on We could start a patrol work in shifts after nightfall when the white coats turn out the lights make sure that no one gets upset or pushed around or um bullied Tua sidled up beside me, batting a small ball from paw to paw like a yo yo Burglar, are you still talking with that big lug Javelin? he said, his silver streaked head cocked towards Javelin. It's a waste of time you know he continued, eyes and paws still on his ball. We've all tried at one time or another. Fact is Javelin has no heart no heart at all or if he does, it's just a big black ball covered in spikes like a porcupine Everyone has a heart I said quietly. I kept my green eyes fixed on Javelin. Suddenly Javelin exploded What's it to me? What's it to me if there are others here who can't fight? We all have to fend for ourselves the sooner they learn how to survive, what must be done to survive, what the world is really like what people are really like better they learn, and the sooner the better Then Javelin turned his back to us. The parlay was over Thank you, burglar thank you very much I thought he was going to pulverize me, yelled Theo, as he stepped gingerly out of his cat bed. I don't know what I ever did to make him so mad at me I guess I guess it's just that I don't look like everyone else Theo looked around sadly at his tailless backside. There's nothing wrong with you, Theo. You are exactly what you are meant to be. Jandlin's just a hissy faced feline that's all whispered Tuberle, batting his ball towards Theo so he could play with it too You're fine, Theo. No worries now, I said. I watched as another cat of great size trotted over to us. Handsome and as bushy as sweet Marie, but so light on his feet that he seemed to be walking on springs. That's a plummy idea the stranger exclaimed, his swiffer sized tail swinging side to side. Yes, a night patrol a great idea and it's certainly true that there are only a few of us uh big cats here at the moment anyway. Tomorrow might be another story. I'd be happy to check the perimeter with you burglar. The perimeter back to front, the perimeter side to side, the perimeter up and down I scale walls, you see I looked up in admiration at this very impressive stranger. Turu raised his chin, put out a paw and said Let me introduce you Burglar may I present Loki? Loki, meet Burglar Hello Loki did I hear you Ray? You uh climb walls Indeed I do I do Norwegian forest cat you see from Scandinavia you know lots of craggy mountains there Skog cat they call my breed there or fairy cat in the Viking legends Yes rock climbers all of us the higher the better Maybe it's the extra fur between the toes don't really know why I just climb to the sky Well I'm glad to meet you Loki but how come I haven't seen you before now? Now let me tell you and you can believe it or not you can trust it or trash it I can disappear at will whenever I choose make myself scarce, so to speak Be here or be there or be anywhere. Look for me once, look for me twice I'm gone in a trice Loki tilted his great elfin head and grinned at us congenially another Reimenheimer I was skeptical, and two Relux murked We doubted that what Loki said was true. There had only been one feline who could appear and disappear whenever he wanted the Sheshire cat and he was only a story. No one had ever actually seen him let me say that again No one had actually seen him doesn't that make you think twice I did disappearing cat Nobody had ever actually seen the Sheshire cat not outside of Alice's Wonderland anyway and even in Wonderland he was there and gone in a flash as I scratched an ear, thinking hard about all this disappearing cats and what Loki had said, Sweet Marie patted over silently with her silky paws to join us as soon as Sweet Marie got comfy, young Theo toddled in close and began washing her neck I heard what you were saying, burglar, and it seems to me that the white coats already do a good job of keeping us all safe, Marie whiskered. What's more, I think that Javelin, who's been a problem since day one, has probably learned his lesson, thanks to you, and apart from Nutbar, who's always dashing about and crashing into things gee, only yesterday he brought down the second highest cat tree in the playroom. I don't see lesson You think I need lessons from an upstart like him? Javelin hissed, swiveling to face us. Theo scooted hastily away. Sweet Marie was unimpressed, and said matter of factly Oh Javelin, when will you learn? You have a chip on your shoulder as big as a chipmunk, and you have the awfulest social skills. Marie went on You're not the only one here who's been abandoned or thrown out with the garbage you know Javelin. Look at Allie and Louya for example, found in a trash can in a backyard alley. Periwinkle, an award winning Himalayan cat, brought here when his ear got clipped in a fight, a fight he didn't start, I might add, which made him lose his show cat status and get dumped here with us peasants. Marie began to count on her claws. Babbler for being too loud nutbar for being too hyper Othello, who grew from a cocoa coated kitten to a black as night adult, had to be rescued one Halloween night. And remember the brothers Benson and Hedges brought here for teasing the family dog I myself, Marie continued quietly, I lost my people when they had to move from the country to a place called No Pets Allowed Sweet Marie swiped both eyes softly with one paw. Again I tried to befriend the crusty javelin. Hey Javelin Marie's right and it never does any good to bully and push other cats around I mean it doesn't make you feel any better does it? It doesn't take away the pain does it I don't know what pain you're talking about, new boy. The problem is there are some here who don't deserve the noble name Felis catus. Shouldn't even be called cats. Why, Theo's a perfect example A cat with no tail what kind of a creature is that a nutbar, a cat who swims swims since when does any self respecting cat even go near water? What about that cat with no coat? What's his name? The one with the donkey ears Oh yeah Giza hairless cats, tailless cats, cats that like to swim and then there's you Loki you weirdo a vanishing cat. What do you think you are an elf? Has the world gone crazy? It's all just too much too much change Look, just leave me alone You and your sort will never understand that only the strongest should make up a tribe. The weak ones just won't survive the what Javelin? The pain? I asked No the world, see? That's why a feline troop is called a pride That's the way to survive, see? With a grunt, Javelin left us and went and curthumped down behind the big door where the sun can never quite get to You're wrong, Javelin, and I think only a family of lions is called a pride I called out as he left. I think you should leave it for now, burglar, mumored Tourelou, sliding a soothing paw along my neck. Sweet Marie, who had been washing her tail furiously while Javelin ranted, nodded yes in agreement, then went off to look for Theo It looks to me as if Javelin's been in a very bad mood for a very long time, so yes indeed, it is probably best to wait for a better time, agreed Loki. Timing, you know, is everything by the time Me and Tuulu turned to look, Loki was nowhere to be seen Chapter three The Unhappy Tabby Before you could say peculiar cat burglar, time passed quickly in what was basically an endless tumbling of day into night. Nights hunted down days and days chased nights back again, and different things happened on different days. On Mondays more white coats would arrive. Some wore long black necklaces on their necks with silver disks at each tip. Others held tablets in their hands. The white coats moved from one cat to the next. One white coat would tap away on his tablet while the other tickled us with the silver discs. Sometimes they'd warm the discs with their breath so we wouldn't feel a chill on our bellies. Chill or not, those silver things tickled some cats struggled and squirmed like furry bellied worms. We'd let them pry open our mouths and peer at our teeth and check our ears, lifting, turning, poking us, sometimes pressing those sharp little sticks as sharp as claws into our skin or taking temperatures. And I don't have to tell you how icky that felt. And that was pretty much all day Monday, every Monday. Wednesdays were for claw trimming with new cats coming in every second day that was important. Outdoor cats like me always keep our claws sharp because you never know when you'd have to climb a tree and leap from branch to branch, and you need sharp claws to do that. On Fridays we all got checked for fleas. No flea baths though, thank goodness. The volunteers would flood in Tuesdays and Thursdays. Those were the fun days, though not everyone agreed. Some, like Tuulu, would scratch furiously on the carpet, then run and hide. It's not that I don't like them, he'd meow. It's just that they make so much noise. A volunteer would always swoop him up and tickle him till he finally began to purr. Periwinkle, the ex show cat, was always delighted to see so many people. He would trot towards them, tail held high, wind around their legs, meowing Look at me, look at me aren't I ever so handsome and perfect? The volunteers fussed over him, calling others over to admire his sky blue eyes and black tip paws. Periwinkle had spent his whole life being the center of attention, shuttled from one cat show to another, spoiled and groomed to within an inch of his life he missed it all desperately. Sweet Marie, watching the cat groupies gleefully pass Periwinkle from one to the other, would often say 'Periwinkle's earned the right to be a show off. It's what he was taught to be. He deserves to feel adored again. Nutbar, the loony Turkish man, would wriggle and leap and pounce from here to there, often overturning beds and crashing into counters or walls, until the volunteers had finished cleaning the litter boxes. He knew they would set up the kitty pool next, just for cats like him that like to swim. Well, actually, just for Nutbar, the only van here at the moment. Turkish vans are one of the true water breeds. None of us others could see any point in letting wetness flatten our fur. We'd only have to spend hours afterwards tongue brushing and fluffing. Fur fluffing is quite a job, as I'm sure you know. Some volunteers had secrets. I could tell by the way they looked around for a particular cat. They'd thread their way carefully, stepping through ankle deep thickets of fur and wet noses that mewed and mewed pick me up please. Pet me please oh please pet me. Oh please please love me. Every visit the same volunteer would search for Javelin and she'd always find him in the same sunless space behind the open door. Now, Javelin wasn't known for attacking people, but nobody knew for sure. It wasn't in his file. In fact, his file was as thin as well, as thin as a nail file. All we knew was that Javlin didn't get along with the rest of us, not a bit. The vets would shake their heads sadly at Javelin. No one, it seemed, could fix the unhappy tabby. Ah, Javelin, there you are, the volunteer would say softly Won't you come out and talk to me? She'd click her tongue against her teeth and hold out a hand with a treat in it. Javelin, crouching, coiled tight, with only the tip of his tail flicking fast, would look up at her for just a few seconds. Then he'd turn and stare at the wall. Next the volunteer would hunk her down cross legged, and all the while she would speak softly and plead with Javelin to come closer, just a little bit closer. It was always the same every single time Javelin seemed determined never to talk to a human again. After an hour or so the volunteer would let out a deep sigh. Javelin would rise, arch and stretch, and then Mosie away, snubbing the treat left on the floor. He's a hard one, I'll say that much, I once heard her say to Marney as they both watched Javelin go on his way. We know so little about him, Marney answered. We've had so many others like him, who first came here biting and scratching as if every second was a fight for their very lives. And they eventually calmed down, adapted, and even made friends. But Javelins made no progress at all. Not to worry, the volunteer assured her, patting her shoulder. I'll keep at it until he realizes he's among friends, feline and otherwise Funny I remember thinking at the time that's just what I intended to do about Javelin Darla and Daphne were taking care of the Siamese kits, Allie and Luya. Daphne, the big calico, sometimes had to sit on Fidgety pants Allie. He wasn't as vocal as Luya, who was always mewing about something or other but he was forever climbing out, up and away and he always yelled out a play by play when he did like now Oh look, look, here I go I'm going up, up, up, screeching a little to the left good tail balance and and Allie oop I'm up, I'm up Allie stood teetering and tottering atop the kitty box. He can't quite get his balance um no not quite just as Allie was about to tip over and topple down, which he always did, Sweet Marie caught him before he hit the floor, as usual. Marie visited the kittens every day. Darling Daphne were awed by her timing. She always walked by just as Allie made it to the very top of the kitty box. Sweet Marie smiled and said Every day it's watch reach repeat Watch Reach repeat This particular day, Sweet Marie meowed They've outgrown this kitty box. She said it on purpose, I think. Marnie and Tippy were nearby. They'd seen Allie's latest reality show and looked at each other something had to be done definitely. But what? Well, said Tippy, we could keep Luya in the smaller box. She seems to be a land lover, not a climber like her brother. She's littler too Actually, answered Marney, Luya worries me a little Siamese cats are great leapers, and elegant jumpers. She should be leaping already or trying to anyway and she cries an awful lot. Oh I don't think she's crying she's just a talker is all a bit like Babbler Well we'll ask doctor John to give her a good check up on his next visit. Maybe something's wrong, maybe she's sick. And you know that we never separate kittens, so we'll move them both to the bigger box. Right now, Marnie decided, her mind made up It was always as clear as catnip to me that Marnie was the white coat leader. Tippy was the soft one. She'd scoop one of us up and give us a quick hug and kisses without missing a step as she walked among all us cats. If leader Marnie noticed, she never said a word about it. What I found most interesting was Yep, you guessed it Javelin Turoulou and I were noticing kinds of cats. We'd noticed that Javelin noticed the kittens. He watched them a lot and his eyes got all sentimental and soft when he did. Downright mushy in fact as we watched Marney and Tippy, with Darla and Daphne following close behind, move the kits into a bigger box, three people walked through the front door. Two of them wore mushroom hats and construction boots. The other man was mister Bobby, the man who hates cats in the next episode, Loki, the fairy cat, warns everyone that two big wildcats are on their way to the shelter. Little Allie learns all about the cat leap of faith, and Burglar has an exciting dream about what will be. So until next time, stay close everyone