The yellow wallpaper had faded, just like Puss's fur. It had become a dull orange tone, yet still bright enough to recognize the ginger cat. His bed had now grown in size as the cat withered like a dry branch year after year. Every time he moved his old rickety limbs, no matter how minute the movement, they creaked like rusted hinges of a door. After all the years of fighting criminals, helping the poor, or just about anything that brought the cat the adrenaline rush that he longed for, he had finally retired back to the humble city of San Ricardo. 

With his countless adventures, they were all fables of their own. From anticlimactically becoming Shrek’s side-side kick, climbing a beanstalk to a castle in the sky, he could list thousands and thousands of stories on the top of his head with perfect accuracy — with a slight tinge of “editing” from the cat. These stories were even shared across every corner of the globe, marked with his legendary name. If you mentioned a ginger colored cat, people would nod in recognition.

The group had disbanded quite a bit ago after said adventures: Perrito becoming a therapy dog in Far Far Away’s local hospital, Kitty going on adventures of her own, and Puss... He was back where it all started for the macho gato. He often worries about the other members of the gang, if Perrito was stressed from the wave of patients or what Kitty was doing off the grid.

Puss lived his life to the fullest, especially after his encounters with Muerte. It truly let Puss see through the arrogance that once cloaked the cat. Puss in boots laughs in the face of death! Oh how that changed very quickly when he found out that his stalker was the literal embodiment of death itself.

The old kitten still reminisces on the event often, the first meeting with lobo, the scar that had cut deeper than just physical. When he realized that he indeed was not immortal. Thinking back, it was a lesson well learned, never take anything for granted, live your life to its fullest. And so he did that.  And with the old cat’s life almost at its end, after living life to its fullest, he could happily say that he had zero regrets. 

Puss closes his heavy eyelids, wanting to sleep for the last time. The golden light rays seeps through the weathered windows and casts a soft glow onto Puss’s face, almost matching his faded fur. He was in heaven already.

Puss’s ears perk up as he hears the whistle, it was slow, reverberating, and familiar. Years ago, the haunting melody would spell dread, making his fur stand and his pupils dilate. But now, it was a welcoming song to the next life, he felt at ease. 

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Hola mi gatito, ¿está bien?,” a smooth silky voice called out to him as the serenade faded away. Puss opened his eyes and turned his aching neck and saw the wolf materializing near his bed. On his sickle, his ninth life had an X etched across its crudely drawn face. As a deity, the wolf couldn’t age, he still looked the same as the day Puss met him at the bar, it gave Puss nostalgia. 

Death’s crimson eyes scanned the cat, observing the years of wear and tear on his body, the faded messy fur, his ear that had a part of it bitten off, his mustache that he had grown out. And yet still, Puss’s emerald eyes that stared at Wolf haven’t aged since he first encountered him. The cat’s gemstone eyes gazed back at Lobo’s ruby eyes, taking in his handsome features. 

“It took you long enough,” the ginger cat coughed out. The wolf smiled softly, something that Puss had never seen before. It fitted the wolf. He then walked towards Puss and sat beside him on the bed, making it creak and creating a dent. 

“Don’t get cocky, Gatito, there were a few times I was about to get you,” Lobo said with a smirk. The two then fell into silence, neither of them saying anything, drowning themselves in the peace and quiet of the room. The curtains swayed in a slow tango as the wind blew on them. The grandfather clock that stood tall in the corner of the room ticked, waiting for the last seconds of Puss’s life. 

He continued, “How was your life?”

“Hmmm…” Puss breathed out. He looked at the wall opposite to him. It was adorned with pictures of past memories: Shrek and donkey, Baby puss and Imelda, His tango with Kitty, Perrito becoming a therapy dog, his wedding with Kitty, him riding a horse, Fiona with kitty, his arch-enemy and friend Humpty Dumpty, and the biggest picture in the middle with a frame of gold, his picture with both Kitty and Perrito. A soft smile graced the cat's face as he recalled his great adventures.

He turned to look at the wolf, the smile still on his face, I’m going to miss you, Lobo, he thought. Perhaps his greatest adventure was the adventure of life. Wolf’s hand moves over Puss’s, holding it lightly, giving warmth to the cold kitten. I’ll miss this life, the cat thought again. But I’m ready to go… 

“All things considered…” Puss managed to cough. His time was almost up. “I lived it well,” the cat finally said, closing his eyes for the final time, welcoming death.

The wolf kept staring at the cat, almost gaping. The fur on the corners of his eyes started to dampen as small drops of tears formed at the corner of his eyes. He didn’t realize that he would miss the… his cat after he departed. His tears ran down his face gracefully like a shower of crystals. 

“I’ll miss you, mi pequeño gatito,” death finally says in a whisper voice. They looked at each other one last time. And with that, Puss took both of Death’s hands and finally crossed to the other side. He lived his life well, with no regrets. He departed this life well too, finally seeing eye to eye with death, departing as friends.