Children of Bast (19 page)

Then, Tuyuur Song I was jolted out of a restless sleep by a racket that sounded like everything was crashing down. Amai were screaming, bašar were yelling and shouting, motors were shrieking, the garbage cans rattled like they were rolling down the street. But worst of all I heard booming and popping like Mutt, Fergus and I heard one night at the lake. The sky caught on fire, Chubby. The light blew up and splashed all over the sky and we couldn’t see. Colors like blue and green, and others shot up from everywhere across the water. We were scared to death and hid in Mutt’s bush and listened to the bangs and pops with our eyes.

Anyway, I crawled out of to see what was going on in the alley. Swarms of bašar were chasing and trapping amai, and knocking over garbage cans and anything else that got in their way. Garbage was all over the place. Amai screamed as bašar caught them with nooses and metal things, and then giggled and laughed as they plunged them into bags where they fought each other because they were so scarred. I hated bašar then and wished I could blind a few like Schatzi.

Suddenly, I found myself dangling from the end of a pole. I couldn’t breathe. Someone plunged me in a sack, the noose was removed and I found myself in a pile of fighting, hissing amai. I yelled at them to clam down, but they were so scared they couldn’t hear. So, I rolled into a ball and sank to the bottom. Before long I felt us being placed on something firm, and the other amai began to settle down.

“What is going on?”

“We’re gonna get killed. This is how bašar get rid of us.”

I spoke up. “Chubby told me about this. Ever so often bašar collect us and take us somewhere in order to get rid of us. We do too much damage, they say, and we do khara and beh yeh everywhere, leaving a stink. Whoever said we’d be killed is probably right.”

“Who are you?”

“Gaylord.”

“Ah, Adele’s friend. Is Adele here?”

I swallowed hard to keep from crying. “Adele is dead.”

“No.”

“How?”

“Killed by a kilaab.”

“Oh no. Where? What kilaab?”

“Tell you later.” I was tired of answering questions and didn’t want to cry. “I blinded the kilaab.”

“Good for you, Gaylord.”

Then, whatever we were on, or in, began to move. After a long time we stopped and our bag was lifted up and carried. We were slammed down, the bag opened and we were dumped out into a large cage where it seemed all the amai in the world were gathered. The mewing, yowling, growling and purring were deafening. “This is the end,” I said to a scruffy yellow tabby that was lounging in the dirt next to me.

“Yeah. But we’ll get fed for a while before they do it. Food is food.”

Now, there was a street-smart amait if I ever heard one. I smiled and strolled on through the clowder to see if I knew anyone. I spotted Kibitz scratching himself against the fence.

“Hey Kibitz.” I wiggled my way through the clowder.

“Gaylord.”

Kibitz was an enormous amait with long faraawi and a huge tail. He looked like a tabby in the face, but that was as far as it went. Kibitz was a prankster. Loved to play and scuffle, but he had to watch that he didn’t hurt smaller amai, and standing by Kibitz we were all small amai. Adele had introduced me to Kibitz who lived under a wooden box near Smokey’s Steak House.

“What’s going on here?” I asked.

“Yearly clean up. Some of us will be killed, others adopted and taken to prison. What I hate is that I’ll have to go through escaping again.”

“Yeah, me too.” I flopped down and Kibitz joined me. I looked like a tiny hairball next to him.

“All the mollies are over there in the next pen ‘cuz they don’t want a lot of settled queens to give away or kill. Oh, by the way, I heard about Adele,” Kibitz said. “So very sorry, Gaylord.”

“Bad news travels fast.”

“Good news does, too. I heard about the kilaab. Love it.”

“He’s gonna be killed.”

“Sweet. How do you know?”

“Heard the owner say so just before I escaped.”

“Oh happy day.” He leaned down and we touched noses.

A tom bašar came through the gate and looked around. “How many of these poor animals do we have, Lou?” he asked.

A short tom bašar with a big belly and long hair came up to the fence. “Two hundred thirteen. A few died on the way here.”

“I hate this day. I love cats.” He made his way carefully into the middle of us. “I have cats at home, five of them, and they’re the kids me and the missus couldn’t have.”

“Never had either one, kids or cats. Got dogs.”

I looked at Kibitz. “It takes all kinds,” he said and yawned. “Wish they’d get on with it.”

“How many are salvageable?” the first bašar asked.

Salvageable. Like we were some old chair or beat up old car. Salvageable. I was insulted.

“Doc said maybe three quarters of them. Euthanize the rest.”

“We’ll wind up euthanizing all of them because nobody wants them. They’re strays and usually wild as hell. Nobody wants them. Can’t find homes for ‘em. God I hate that. Look at them: poor little things, innocent and scared to death. God, how I hate killing anything, but cats especially.”

“Hey, Pauly. You okay? Hey, they’re just cats, man. Don’t get all emotional. Plenty cats around. A few are adopted.” Lou lit a cigarette.

“Well, Lou, you’re not a cat person. You just don’t understand.” Pauly left the cage. Lou watched us for a while, and then followed Pauly.

“What does euthanize mean?” I asked Kibitz.

“Means they’ll kill us,” a glossy black said, striding up to us. “How you doin’, Gaylord?” It was the black I fought to get to be first with Adele.

Chubby, my mouth dropped open and I stopped breathing. I’d killed this amait. His blood squirted into my mouth, and I saw his eyes glaze over and stop along with his breath. He was dead. Was this a ghost or something brought on by Adele’s death?

“You’re staring, Gaylord.” He grinned. “I didn’t die but I should have after you messed me up. I just passed out. One of my buddies drug me off and took care of me. You didn’t notice ‘cause you were puttin’ it to Adele.” He laughed out loud.

I stood up because I didn’t know what mood he was in, but I dropped back down because my legs were weak like a kith. He looked at Kibitz who was still laying down. “Who’s your friend,” the black asked. I couldn’t talk; only stare.

Kibitz got up. “I’m Kibitz, an old friend of Gaylord. You?”

“Kaddiska. Kaddy for short. Nice to meet ya, Kibitz.”

They touched noses. Kibitz said, “You two met before, I take it.”

“Yeah. Gaylord here whipped me so bad he thought he’d killed me. I thought he’d killed me, too, ‘til I came around.” He turned and looked at me as I continued to stare at him. “No hard feelings, Gaylord. I’m alive, at least for a while unless I can escape this joint and not get put down.”

I found my voice, which was pretty raspy and dry. “How’d you know my name?” I looked deep into his glowing eyes and shivered, remembering our fight. He was tough.

“You’re a legend, Gaylord. I asked the clowder later and they told me: Gaylord belongs to Adele, and Adele belongs to Gaylord. He’ll kill you very easily if anyone tries to change that arrangement. My only answer is, I know from experience.”

I started to breathe again. I’m not ashamed to tell you, Chubby, I felt proud to be called a legend.

“Adele’s dead.”

“I heard. It’s all over town. What you did to the kilaab is all over town, too. Strengthens your place as a legend. Good job, Gaylord. We’re all proud of you. In fact I’m braggin’ now how I fought you and lived.”

That cracked Kibitz up. “Listen, you two mugs make me a little sick. I mean we’re facing death here, and you’re joking around making nice to each other. Let’s try to get outta here, hey.”

“Relax,” Kaddy said. “I’ve been here before, and that bašar they call Pauly? He’ll let us go. Late at night, he comes in and lets us go. He’s really a sucker.”

“Well, he almost makes me want to believe in bašar again,” I said. “Before I escaped, there were times I enjoyed them. But I saw their bad side this time, and I lost all faith. Pauly may be one of the good ones, I can’t tell. They lie a lot. But if he’s okay, I’m going home with him.”

“That can be arranged,” Kaddy said. “You know how to work them?”

I laughed. “You’re looking at a master. I could make a kilaab love me, except they make me puke just thinkin’ about them.”

“I knew a kilaab once that was kind,” Kibitz said.

“Probably you were bigger than he was,” Kaddy said.

“Don’t get personal,” Kibitz said and cuffed Kaddy playfully. “She was really sweet. We played together, rolled and tumbled. She’d lick me with that soft tongue of hers . . .”

“Now, I’m gonna puke,” Kaddy said.

“Me, too,” I said. “Her breath had to be a killer.”

“No, both you guys are so wrong. Her name was Bella, and she had shaggy red faraawi and soft floppy ears. Always smilin’ and waggin’ her tail. Anyway, I liked her. She never once hurt me or chased me in anger. Always wanted to play. I’m here to tell you that there are some good kalb just as there are good bašar.”

“Good bašar I might believe,” I said. “Kalb are all alike. They’re mean, evil, fowl, ugly, stinky, and the world would be better off without them.”

“Yeah,” Kaddy said.

“Well, there are bašar who think the same about us,” Kibitz said as he lay back down. “That’s why we’re here.”

“They’re wrong about us, though,” Kaddy said. “Kalb should be here, not us.”

“They do kalb like this, too,” Kibitz said.

Chapter 18

Cat: a pygmy lion who loves mice, hates dogs, and patronizes human beings.
Oliver Herford

J
ust like Kaddy said, Pauly returned after Time of Owls and opened the gate. He didn’t have to coax us much because we were all very willing to make a run for it. This was my chance.

Shoving my way through the clowder, I got to Pauly and began working him. I meowed and purred up a storm, rubbed against his legs, reared up and kneaded him gently while I increased the volume on my purrs.

“Hey, you.” He had a gruff voice. “What? You think I’m gonna take you home? Is that what this mauling is all about? Or do you want food? Probably both, huh?”

I sat down and looked up at him and wondered for a moment if I’d made a mistake. Maybe he didn’t like amai after all. Then he picked me up and nestled me in his arms. I usually hate to be picked up, but I was warm for the first time since getting caught.

“What are you, anyway?” he asked. “Male or female?” Placing me under one arm, he lifted my tail.

“Hey, that’s personal stuff down there,” I yelled, but, of course, he didn’t understand.

“A tomcat bold and beautiful.” He turned me around and cuddled me closer.

“Why didn’t you ask?” All he heard was a meow and a couple of husky trills and chirps.

“All right, you can come with me. Lord knows I don’t need another cat, but I think you’re special.” I kissed his hand. “Hey, you bite me and it’s all over.” I guess I used too much teeth, so I kissed him again, softer. “Yeah, that’s better.” He took me to his car and put me in the back seat.

I’d never been in a car before without being jailed in a cage with Maama and my sister, Lamis, going to our despised vet. Frankly, I was a little scared, and it smelled funny in there, like garbage had been tossed in. I squatted, tucked my front legs under me and braced my back legs to run if I had too. It wasn’t long until Pauly opened the door and got in.

“You doin’ okay back there? We’ll be home real quick. Just live in the next block.”

He started the car and we drove off, but I stayed squatted just in case. When we got to his house, he put me under one arm and walked to the door.

“I got to give you a name,” he said.

I wanted to tell him I had a name, in fact several names, but that would be a waste of time. Let him name me, I thought. I know my name, so whatever he calls me is his business.

As soon as we passed through the door, I heard amai jabbering everywhere. “Oh, for Bast’s sake. Pauly brought another amait in here,” I heard one say. Lots of loud protests followed as he put me down among a clowder ranging from bedraggled looking alleys to a pudgy white who just stared at me from out blue eyes and said nothing. I knew she was deaf; almost all of her kind are.

“Who are you?” a faded yellow tabby asked right in my face.

“I’m.” I hesitated. Should I give my name as Gaylord or Nebibi, I wondered. But what did it matter? None of them knew me.

“I’m . . . My bašar called me Gaylord, my maama called me Nebibi, so take your pick.”

A fluffy gray stripe came up. “You come from over by the lake?”

“I used to live by the lake with some friends.”

“Know an amait called Fergus?”

“Yeah. He’s my best friend. How . . .”

“Fergus is a rotten kilaab. I ran into him when I was out for a while and he told me about you. Said you were one hell of a fighter. That right?”