CHAPTER 2: A CAT’S TAIL

It was extraordinarily rare that a day went so utterly bad, that not a single good thing could be recalled about it by its termination. That wasn’t to say nothing good happened today of course, but rather, everything good had been so thoroughly overshadowed so as to disappear entirely from her recollection. She tried to remember where it had gone wrong.

It had started normally enough. Wake up, eat, go to work. Those, she reflected, were certainly the highlights of the day so far. She enjoyed her work actually, so it really wasn’t work at all. Teasing that brute Dantes was more of a calling than anything else. Today, she had planned on seeing if she could she could steal some food from him. If not, she’d have had to find something else to eat.

Grrrrr…

Her belly rumbled, distracting her thoughts for a moment, but hunger was normal for her, and she could tell she would be fine for some time yet.

The plan had started off as usual. After waiting for the human to come out and put food in the dish, she delayed a bit longer before alerting him to her presence. As was normal, Dantes emerged from his dog house barking and making a racket, but she knew exactly where to sit after lots of practice and a few close calls. Normally, the plan would be to tease him for a few minutes before quietly slipping away, only to jump over into the courtyard from the well-placed tree overhanging Dantes’ small hut, stealing his food, and making a silent escape. This was the normal plan.

Here, she reflected, was where the day had, as she’d heard a human say once, gone to shit.

Dantes stormed out of his house, full sprint and launched himself at her. Undaunted, she groomed her paws, as she knew his range well. As Dantes strained against his chain, suddenly he tumbled forward, and his chain lay slack on the ground. The two froze for a split second as she stopped mid lick. Both exploded into action, throwing themselves around the corner of the courtyard and onto the street. A loud screeching noise, and suddenly, everything was green and wet.

Grrrrrrrrr………

Maybe she should find something to eat; an emptiness was forming in her stomach, a slight burning started. She’d endured worse, and the sun had yet to rise, though the sky had the beginnings of light. After a few silent minutes of self debate, she decided to make her way upstairs. She thought she saw some bread earlier. That would have to do.

She found the bread amidst the remains of the charred cupboard, the sides completely burned off, though the base remained uncharred, some decorative lines drawn onto it. The loaf, with only a slice or two taken out of it, lay on a plate in the center. Grabbing it in her teeth she brought it to the table.

Now that she thought about it, she felt different too. Not physically, she’d already made sure of that, but it was as though a fog had lifted from the world, and she could think in more complex ways than she had before, recalling events precisely as they happened. It was as unnerving as it was exciting. Somewhere in the back of her mind, these changes worried her, but she decided now was not the time to worry about these things, and pushed the feeling down resolving to examine it later, which was very unlike her indeed.

Flexing her new muscles, she snapped her recollection back to the day before. The green wetness and the feeling of falling in thick syrupy water was unpleasant, even to remember, though she felt dry now, and not a trace of it remained clinging to her fur. There had been a flurry of flailing paws and claws, as she and the brute surfaced in a cauldron of glowing green water. Being somewhat nimbler, she had slipped away into the rafters before the dog could escape himself, and watched as he looked around before making his way up the stairs and out of the basement where she remained some time longer.

She’d been dead tired at the time, even though she’d just woken up an hour earlier, but decided to go have a quick look around, scouting the place out. The basement where she now found herself was sparsely furnished, with the only notable piece being the cauldron in the middle that still leaked green vapours, but had diminished notably since her arrival.

Making her way upstairs, the place she was charred black for the most part, though the kitchen where she ate was fairly untouched, outfitted with a few cupboards attached to the wall above a polished wooden counter with decorative carvings etched into the wood. She could see the entire floor from where she sat, with the blackened walls having fallen to the floor in some fire. A mostly intact staircase made its way up one side of the house behind the remains of a counter. Aside from that, there was just the trap door that led to the basement from which she came, laying open under the table. A good thing it was open too, as the thing was wrought in iron and much too heavy for her to move even the slightest.

The worst part of yesterday, she reflected, as a breeze blew through the abandoned house, was not missing out on breakfast, getting chased by Dantes, or getting hit(?) by that car, or almost drowning in a vat of glowing green water, but waking up in an entirely new place. She’d taken a look outside yesterday, and noticed that the clothes everyone wore were entirely different, more colorful and shinier. The scents on the wind were not of burning oil, steel and fire, but of spices and something else entirely different. The new smell smelled of nothing in particular, like pure water, but she could smell it nonetheless. It lay stagnant in the air all around her, not overlapping with the other scents but laying under it so that it was always present, but did not muddle the faint smells wafting in on the breeze.

It was these scents that worried her, as they told her she was nowhere she had ever been before. Having moved cities five times in her kittenhood she knew each city smelled more or less the same, with varying proportions of a few scents. And that was what scared her. Starting fresh in a strange city wasn’t something on old tail like her wanted to do, though exploring could be fun. What if there wasn’t a fish market on Sundays where she could beg or steal scraps? What if there weren’t any dogs to torment? Whatever the case, she’d have to make it work. Maybe she’d be able to sneak aboard a big ship and sail to another city where the smells were more familiar, and the people less colorfully clothed. She’d done it before, once.

Though her stomach had stopped rumbling, she still felt a bit hungry, the uncomfortable feeling still present in her belly. Quickly scarfing another bite out of the loaf (that really wasn’t very good at all) she decided she’d rather explore the house before finishing breakfast later.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

For now, she’d make do exploring the second floor. The house seemed like a good base of operations, assuming no one lived here, and maybe she could adapt to this new place as she had before. Everything here smelt of burnt wood, not a trace of human scent in the house at all. With a spring in her step, she bounced up the stairs, which, though slightly charred, were solid and silent under her light step.

Upstairs was a single room with many boxes, shelves stocked with dirty jars and dead plants, and a bed shoved into the corner. The boxes in particular caught her eye, made of wood rather than the cardboard she was used to. She quickly hopped into one, relishing a luxury that the street cat rarely enjoyed. The room was full of them too. This place was great!

So caught in her enjoyment, she completely missed the carefully quiet click of toenails on the hardwood floor as she snuggled against the corners of her current favourite box: an empty crate stacked on several other boxes.

Had she had her wits about her, she might have caught the fading smell of wet fur near the bed as she wiggled about in delight.

She was not so oblivious, however, to catch that familiar snarl, and without hesitation leapt from her stack of boxes. As she did so, however, something crashed into the stack, sending her sprawling onto the floor very ungracefully, landing in front of the room’s only window, the bright light illuminating her in the still somewhat dark room. And how it burned! The light brought forth the burning feeling that lay disguised as hunger into a violent, full throttle conflagration, her stomach a great blaze. With not even the strength to move, she collapsed there, helpless, writhing in pain.

Suddenly, it was upon her, that maw of teeth bearing down on her in a snarl of fury, or frustration perhaps. Ironic that she would die to a beast from which she had thought herself immune for so long. At least it would end the pain. The pain didn’t stop, however, and it continued beating her relentlessly until the sweet release of unconsciousness took hold.

***

Mitty awoke with a start, darting to her feet. Well, trying to anyhow. Something heavy was pressing down on her, and she was feeling awful, so she barely moved a hand. That gave her paws (:3). Hands are not attached to respectable cats. She flexed a long unused muscle in her paws, expecting nothing, but felt her fingers twitch. Trying to coordinate her limbs into pushing out from underneath the weight, she failed spectacularly, her arms flopping uselessly off on either side. The arms were new too. What had happened to her beautiful paws?!

Flailing around some, she managed to extricate herself from underneath the unconscious man on top of her. She looked down at what were once her paws, and saw only disgusting human hands. Gone was the matte black fur that had once adorned her body, replaced with squishy human flesh. Panic clamoured in her throat as she checked herself. She couldn’t feel her tail or whiskers, and her ears were in altogether the wrong place. It was too much.

Everything bubbled over, culminating in a wretched scream, followed by a whimpering sob. “Oh Jalal, why must I, a paragon of morality, be punished more cruelly than even the most wretched of dogs deserves?” she bemoaned her fate, noting in the back of her mind that the words had been said aloud.

Collapsed on the floor beside her, the man glared at her sidelong.

“What did you do to me, cat?”, he spat the last part out with a well practiced disdain.

Having gained minor faculty over her legs, Mitty pushed herself backwards toward the wall, calmly taking in every detail faster than her mind could consciously take note of them. She was still in the upstairs room of the house, surrounded by boxes. The sun was almost at its peak as she could just barely see it through the window next to her. Her eyes moved on to the man lying on the floor.

He had short dark brown hair and brown eyes with sharp features and a heavy jaw. What drew her eye as she examined him was the pale scar extending across his cheeks over the bridge of his nose, perfectly symmetrical across his face. He also looked taller than most humans, but it was hard to tell with him lying on the floor like that. Probably bulkier than most too, but she’d never much paid attention to that in the past so she couldn’t say for sure.

Mitty rolled her next words over on her tongue before speaking, an odd sensation for one unaccustomed to speaking with words.

“Nothing- agh”, she cut off as she bit her tongue despite her prior rehearsal. “I just woke up and felt weird, then fainted when you jumped on me, and when I woke up again I was like this.”

She’d considered leading him on, just mess with him, but decided against it. Which seemed like a real waste of an opportunity in retrospect. Maybe after she figured out what was going on.

“It was probably that green stuff. Felt like shit after getting covered in that”. His voice come out low and smooth as he managed to push himself to sitting on one of the low-lying boxes. “And when I woke up, I could think better”.

Much the same happened for her. Either the source of her predicament was in fact the green stuff, or this new city had something strange that turned all animals into humans. Maybe this is where humans come from? Something told her that it was probably the former, though perhaps the latter had some merit. How else would humans be so prolific if they only could only have one human-kit at a time? Maybe they turned animals into humans to supplement their numbers. Hopefully she’d be able to figure out how to turn herself back into a cat if that was the case? She shrugged off that line of thinking, shelving it for later.

“You, ah, don’t wanna continue where we left off do you?” she inquired politely, though cautiously.

“No, I can’t really get my heart into it right now. I don’t think I can even give a proper bark as I am… You don’t know where we are do you?”

She shook her head. “No, but we aren’t near anywhere I’ve ever been. Everything outside smells of spices and whatever that other smell is underneath it, that nothingy smell.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know places could smell different. And I don’t smell that other thing.”

Mitty was incredulous. “What do you mean? Haven’t you ever left your house? How else could you find a fish market if not by smell?”

“Nah, never left the yard.”

“Never? How!?”

“Mm. Pretty much. My master never let me out.”

“Well I saw some humans in the street earlier, so maybe we can ask them where we are. Also, you don’t smell that other thing? It smells like water or something.”

“Water doesn’t smell like anything. I think I feel something, though I can’t really describe it. Also, what do you mean ask the humans?”

“Like with words, idiot. We can talk now, apparently.”

“Will they understand us though?”

She felt a bit of heat rising in her face. She hadn’t thought of that. “I’m sure it will be fine. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?”

“They could beat you for making too much noise?”

“Umm, I don’t think people normally do that to other people… Sounds like your master wasn’t very nice.”

“He wasn’t.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t really know how to respond to that, so she pushed herself to her feet, which was a mistake. She wobbled, and almost fell, but caught herself on a stack of boxes labeled: “Glassware and Jam”. She noticed idly that there were unopened jars of something vaguely jam looking.

“Hungry?” She asked as she grasped at the jar in her clumsy hands, and without waiting for an answer, fumbled it towards him. It thudded against the floor in front of him, but by some stroke of luck, didn’t shatter. She’d envisioned that differently. Hands were harder than they looked.

He looked like she’d handed him a bag of dirt.

“You’re supposed to eat it with toas- and take the lid off first, idiot.”

“I see… What’s toas?” he said, abandoning his attempts at biting through the jar.

“Toast. Um. You put bread into a box and it transforms into toast I think. You can put it on bread too. I’ve also seen humans eat it raw before, though I think that is uncommon.”

“I see. Do you have any toast or bread? I don’t know why humans bother with such complicated meal preparations, it seems a waste of time, much faster to eat it raw.”

“It’s not about the speed, moron. It’s about the taste. Wait, don’t tell me you’ve only ever eaten that crap that we share?”

“I don’t share it with you, furball, and there’s nothing wrong with eating the same thing every day.”

“Hmph, that’s what you say now, but since you’re human now, you’ll need to eat human food. Also eating the same thing gets old pretty quick. Even I had some variety back home. Let’s go downstairs for now, I’ll show you how to spread jam on bread.”

“Fine. I’m Dantes by the way.”

“I know”, she said with a smirk. She held it until she received a glare and a growl.

“We’ll probably have to deal with each other for a while so we may as well get to know each other.”

“Fine, I’m Mitty. I guess I’ll help you out for now.”

She would normally have accompanied this with a suave sashay down the stairs, tail flicking in contempt, but given the lack of tail and knowing she would probably fall down the stairs, she made do with a careful walk with one hand on the wall as she made her way down the stairs one at a time.