Perched on the window seat in his apartment, Meowington was soaking up the last of what the Chicago sunrays could afford him. He had just finished the arduous case of the missing toy mouse (found under the sofa chair), and now he was catching up on some much-needed rest. It had been a perfect day. He had done some people watching—there weren’t many birds in this part of the city—and chomped down a delicious salmon pâté. His eyes had gone unfocused and a bit distorted from watching for so long, but he could see his round orange face peering back at him from the window. He was admiring the spherical shape of the white spot around his left eye when movement behind him captured his attention.
It was his litter brother Purrcy, sauntering in through the cat door. It connected to the catio his human had built for him on the porch. It had been a few months since he had parted ways with his brother, and not on necessarily good terms. Meowington had recently moved from the South Side of Chicago to the Gold Coast. After deciding to retire from his work as a PI, he made the decision to split from the morally ambiguous characters in his life. He had stalked a few humans from dark alleys, followed them to their homes and observed their behavior. He narrowed it down to a few nice humans with no dogs in residence. All the humans looked the same to Meowington, so he decided to go with the one that had the better apartment. With a scratch at the door, a swish of the tail, and a widening of the eyes, he was in and living in luxury. The Sinclair residence was his home now.
He had tried to convince Purrcy to make the move too. Meowington even had a few humans in mind for him, but Purrcy refused; he didn’t want to give up the street life, the girls, the gambling, the Catnip. So, they had parted ways on semi-cordial terms. Cordial in that they hadn’t spoken to each other since. It was a shock to see Purrcy now on the North Side, especially after he had avidly denied Meowington’s previous offer.
Purrcy was glancing around the apartment, attempting to surreptitiously sniff around. His gray fur was matted and dingey beyond any short-haired cat Meowington had seen before. His tipped ear had a scabbing tear oozing with infection. The top of his tail decidedly pointed to the left from a recent break, and his hip bones protruded from his frame. He looked like roadkill. “So, this is where you’ve been holed up,” he said, finally making eye contact with his brother. His pupils were wide and unblinking.
“I wouldn’t call my home a hole,” Meowington said while leisurely unwinding from his sprawl. After a deep stretch, he leaped down from his perch and went to get a better whiff of his brother.
“When you got to take orders from human-folk, I call that a pretty well dug hole.” He said it jokingly, but there was bitterness in Purrcy’s tone that told Meowington that he meant it.
He had gotten close enough to catch a waft of a pungent scent in the air; it told him all he needed to know. “A human hole is better than the streets.” Meowington sighed and looked his brother in the eye. “Look, I chose this life for myself. I know you think humans are all no good, but most have good intentions.”
“No, what I know is that there is nothing sadder than a leashed cat who thinks he’s got choices.”
“It’s clear that our versions of being free are different. That’s fine. But it looks to me like your freedom is the very thing that’s killing you. What are you even doing here anyways? It’s clear that you haven’t decided to ship up.”
“No,” Purrcy lowly growled. “I ain’t even here for me. It’s Pawdette. She’s in trouble.” When Purrcy said their sister’s name, the worry in his voice was prominent. His tail hung low to the point of sweeping the floor. Meowington knew he wouldn’t lie about Pawdette’s safety. From the moment she was born, their only thoughts were of keeping the fragile angel safe. She was born in their mom’s final litter before Animal Control got a hold of her and snipped then tipped her. Pawdette was the only sister they had, and they swore that she would lead a life of comfort. It had been the only time that Purccy conceited to the benefits of a mixed cat-human lifestyle. As soon as she was ready, Meowington moved her to the North Side with an endearing family of humans. Purrcy visited her every other day while Meowington managed to stop by every other week. The demands of his work as a private investigator had been at an all-time high.
The memory made his severed right ear twinge with phantom pain. His efforts to get Pawdette to safety had caused the loss. As he was making his way back to the South Side, Animal Control got a hold of him. Similar to what they had done to his mother, they neutered him and to show his new status, they cut off the corner of his right ear. He rubbed his paw against the edge of his ear and quickly dismissed the memory.
He finally asked, “What kind of trouble?” Had Purrcy mixed her up in his nonsense? It wouldn’t be the first time he got another caught in the crosshairs.
“That’s the thing, I don’t know.” Purrcy paused as a stress yawn overcame him. “All I know is she hasn’t been home for a few days. I’ve been checking in on her more since you moved away.” Meowington felt a twinge of regret; he hadn’t checked in on Pawdette since his move. That was on him.
“How do you know she’s gone and not just out with some friends?” Meowington knew that Pawdette was as indoor as a cat could get, there was no leaving the cool comforts of her downtown apartment. He just needed to see what Purrcy knew.
“She wouldn’t leave like that, and you know it. I think Mewlysses has something to do with it. Smells fishy. You go away and she disappears without a word? I think he got cocky with you out of the picture.”
Mewlysses was a likely candidate for a catnapper. Mewlysses is one of Purrcy’s mentioned crosshairs. After getting addicted, he had taken over the abandoned Church’s restaurant that went dark in South Shore. Now it’s a lowlife Catnip den. There were quite a few foreclosed buildings on that side of town just sitting pretty. It wouldn’t do to have them stay empty. The cats in that hood decidedly took ownership if the humans kept from sticking their noses around the boarded heaps.
“Are you saying that because you believe it or because you still hold a grudge?” It was a valid question. His brother had been the one to get Mewlysses hooked on Nip in the first place. They used to be like Siamese twins, prowling the town together.
What remained of Purrcy’s whiskers gave a pronounced twitch. “Can’t imagine he’s gotten over his grudge either. I haven’t been to Catz since, but last I heard, he’s always raving about how I took his life away from him. Maybe he finally snapped and decided to take a life from me.” Purrcy had a point, taking Pawdette would be effective. Not only was she an easier target, but it was pretty clear that Purrcy couldn’t care less about his own life.
Meowington confirms with a quick spasm of the ear. “Alright, I’ll look into it, but do me a solid and stay out of my way.” Purrcy opened his mouth to interject, but Meowington quickly cut him off, “No, if this is about revenge, it won’t do to be traipsing around with the likes of you.”
Meowington acted quickly, he didn’t know how long Pawdette had been gone for. The faster he got to it, the more likely it was he would find her alive. He spilled his water dish and tracked watery prints to the cat door—the cat equivalent of an “I left” note. Hopefully the human would understand, but it wasn’t the brightest being sometimes.
He walked out onto North La Salle Street and made his way to the CTA Clark/Division station. From there, he had woven through the swinging obstacle that was human legs and snuck onto the train. It was too easy to trick the humans into allowing him to ride along with them. All he had to do was flop on his back and show them his furry white belly. It was so pristine it almost blindingly contrasted with his orange coat. He allowed a few hands to caress him, but generally played keep-away for the rest of the ride. When he arrived at his stop, he quickly dismounted and made a break for it through the bustling 79th Street station. It wouldn’t do to have any innocent bystanders scoop him up and try playing the stray cat hero.
Getting on the 79 Lakefront bus didn’t fare as easily. Meowington’s tail had gotten trampled in the mix, and he had to spend the trip hidden in a human’s tote bag reeking with the camphorous odor of mothballs. He was plotting on how to pull the string for the arriving 79th Street and Colfax when another human on the bus did the work for him. He leaped from the tote bag and barreled his way out of the bus. The sky had completed its final rotation into darkness by the time Meowington arrived outside of Catz, the restaurant-turned-den. It was easy to remember the last time he had come to this run down joint. It was much the same as every other time he had been there.
At that time, Meowington would visit Pawdette just as he did every other week. She would cry and cry about how Purccy hadn’t been to visit her. Meowington would make his way through the Nip Den, weaving his way through the piles of cats that covered the tiled floor. He’d dive into the depths of the repurposed refrigerator and find his brother on top of one shelving unit or another. He always had the same look of disappointment and Purrcy always had the same response, “Mind your own fucking business.” The building still looked the same as it did in those days, run down and vacant. There were a few humans walking far enough down the road that Meowington felt safe enough to approach the entrance, avoiding the debris in the lot with each step.
It seemed that he would be out of luck tonight. Purrcy’s ex-girlfriend was mousing at the door, and she was glaring right at him. He cautiously approached, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling at the unforeseen danger that is a feline scorned. It’s no wonder to him now why Purrcy didn’t partake at this venue anymore. Even with things going sour with Mewlysses, he wouldn’t dare cross paths with Catalina and her claws.
“Takes a lot of balls for you to show your face around here,” she called across to him. The patrons waiting in line glanced over in his direction but quickly lost interest for fear of mellowing their high. Or of pissing Catalina off. “Well, stop pussyfooting around over there and tell me what you want.”
Meowington slinked over to the yowling cat and got a good look at her in the light of the flickering street lamp. She looked good for a Nip addict. Her coat was blindingly white, not a stain on it, well-groomed and glistening. “I see you’re holding together well enough. How long since you quit?”
She froze, her ears falling flat against her head. Statue-like as she peered closer at him. “How’d you know I quit?” Her tone was accusatory, threatening to turn to violence if she thought he was lying.
Meowington let out a purring laugh, “If you were trying to keep that a secret from your employer, then you should try harder.” Most den owners around these parts liked to keep their staff nipped up. It kept the addicts coming back, and they get free manual labor from the racked-up debts.
“I’m serious. Tell me how you know.” And she was serious. From the look in her eyes, she was deadly.
“How about we make a deal? You lick my back, and I lick yours?” He already knew she’d relent. Meowington had deduced what her answer would be from the moment her clear diction pierced his highly attuned pinnae.
Catalina licked her muzzle, already prepared to relent; she didn’t know the rules of the game and had no choice but to fold. “Fine, but you first,” she said.
“Can I trust you, to tell me what I need to know?”
“If I know it, then yes.”
Meowington paused to consider. There was a chance she would hide behind ignorance, to keep him from getting the information he needed, but that was a chance he was willing to take. The biggest clue to her sobriety had been the end of her relationship with Purrcy, but she wouldn’t want to hear that one. “It’s your voice,” he finally said. “You speak more clearly and your posture is better. If you want to act like you’re still using, then you need to act like you used to when you were using.” From the furrow of her brow, he decided to elaborate further. “Slur your words, slump your shoulders, be easily distracted, and grow out your nails.”
“My nails? What’s wrong with my nails,” she asked while looking down at the polished and filed tips of her digits.
“They’re short, well-maintained. Not even long enough to snort a scoop of Catnip from. Look at theirs,” He directed her attention to the line of addicts, practically hidden in the shadows against the storefront. All of them were in their own worlds, too out of their minds to question the long wait they were experiencing. He looked over at Catalina to confirm that she understood.
She nodded her head and said, “Fair is fair. Ask your question.”
“Have you noticed anyone who isn’t dropping by anymore, any regulars go missing?”
“A few actually, but we have a higher turnover rate when it comes to clientele. Due to the nature of their habits.” She was right; she wouldn’t notice any disappearances. He needed to speak with the big boss.
“I see what you mean. Is Mewlysses kicking around here somewhere?”
“The old owner? No, you’re looking for Jeffurry. He bought this place last week for cheap. At the time, I thought Mewlysses was cracking jokes about going straight, but I think he might’ve meant it. Jeffurry is over at The Hair Brawl.” She saw his questioning look and expanded, “Well, you know he’s sort of the cat’s meow around here. He’s spending most of his time over there now.”
“The Hair Brawl? I’m guessing it’s not a barber shop.”
Catalina snickered. “You’re cute, I’ll give you that. Nah, he’s started the equivalent of an underground fight club. He took over that abandoned bowling alley, almost about a mile from here. Password for tonight is ‘wildcat.’”
Meowington turned to go and threw out a quick “thanks,” over his shoulder. Two blocks weren’t too far, and he needed the fresh air to think it through. Was there a possibility that Jeffurry knew something about his sister’s disappearance? Or had he been involved? It was hard to imagine there being enough bodies to support a consistent fighting ring, maybe he needed to start picking cats off the streets and force them to fight. It was a bit of a stretch but still worth looking into.
Then again, he knew Jeffurry from their stint together in lock up after being picked up by Animal Control. He had been a decent guy then, but the process is known to change a cat. Jeffurry had been seeing a cool kitty on the North Side when he had been picked up. There weren’t many strays on that side of the track, so when one wanders over, they bag, tag, and sack them right back to the South Side. After their incisions had sealed and they had been released, they had made a run for it and hadn’t seen each other since. Jeffurry ran in the same circles Meowington avoided unless on a case.
After thirteen minutes of swerving from wandering humans on South Colfax Street, he finally made it to the abandoned bowling alley. There wasn’t a pretty kitty waiting at the door for him. Instead, there was a beast of a mouser who could be easily confused for a panther with his jet-black coloring and bulky frame. He was the embodiment of how Catalina needed to act if she was going to fool anyone. There were no signs or lines, no flashy lights or extensive security. Just another boarded up abandoned building. He murmured the password and was quickly escorted in.
Meowington made his way into the sweltering room, wading through a crowd of foul alley cats. The air was thick with the smell of blood and urine. The previous venue had torn down all the walls leaving one big room with a circle of wood flooring in its center, worn and stained carpet taking over the rest of it. They held the fights in the center. He supposed it was easier to clean up the blood and vomit that way. Through the dim light and mass of bodies, it looked like bets were being placed at the old food stand. Apparently, they don’t make food for brawls.
Meowington had moved from the neighborhood before Jeffurry had started up the place, leaving him now in an unknown environment. He played it cool like he was playing cat and mouse. He couldn’t look out of place if he didn’t act out of place. The swell of grimy bodies around him were riled to the very edge of violence and nipped to the brink of oblivion. In their unfocused eyes, his snipped ear was a safety net. It was the only indicator they needed that he belonged there, even as the dim yellow light reflected off his gleaming coat.
He prowled through the crowd to reach the bookies in the stand. Once in front he called out, “I’m looking for Jeffurry.” No response, only blank stares. It seemed they were going to ignore him if he wasn’t placing a bet, which Meowington had no intention of. “It’s about Mewlysses.” That caught their attention; they’d probably worked for the guy before. They nodded and left their post, hopefully to get Jeffurry and not security. It’d been a while since he’d been kicked out of an establishment.
Luckily, a few minutes later, a sandy tomcat came gunning in his direction. He was well-groomed and sober—as far as Meowington could tell—setting him apart from the others in the room. This was the cat he was looking for, smart of him to not get hooked on his own supply. He wondered if Jeffurry would remember him too as it felt like ages ago to Meowington.
“I hear you’re looking for me,” he drawled out. There was no flicker of recognition in his sharp hazel eyes.
Evidently, he didn’t remember. That might make this more difficult. “You heard correctly. It’s about Mewlysses.”
“And what does that druggy want now?”
“He’s missing. Gone. Know anything about it?” The sound of the yowling crowd surged around them. Someone was getting the shredded bits kicked out of them.
“Gone?” Jeffurry snickered. “He’s probably passed out in a ditch somewhere. If you’re insinuating that I had anything to do with it, then think again. Mewlysses is my best customer. How do you think I was able to commandeer Catz from him?”
“I heard he’s gone straight,” he said. It was a stretch but not entirely unbelievable. Mewlysses had openly admitted that he hated what the stuff did to him.
Jeffurry narrowed his eyes, “An informant? Fine. Yes, he was sober the last I heard from him, but I had nothing to do with his disappearance.”
“I also heard that you’re well-known around these parts. Have you noticed any other regulars disappearing around here?” From the way he glanced away from Meowington it was clear he knew something. “My sister disappeared sometime this week, she’s as straight as it gets. Somethings going on here and I am trying to figure it out, but I can’t do that without all the information.” Meowington didn’t know if earnest would work on a guy like this, but he figured he’d give it a go.
Jeffurry sighed and nodded his head, “I do remember you Meowster. That’s the only reason I’m willing to trust you now instead of throwing you out on that groomed tail like I ought to.” Ignoring the distasteful nickname, Meowington gave the nod for him to continue. “I’m nervous. More and more of my clients are disappearing, people I used to see every day. In the beginning, I thought it was just the standard overdose, but nobody has discovered any dead bodies. Some of these cats have families. They haven’t seen them let alone heard from them, you dig?”
“Why haven’t you said anything before?”
“Are you kidding me? You know the only thing we got down here is the Mawfia. I’d either be laughed out or put in their menagerie.” Jeffurry glanced away again, deflecting. The Mawfia was a diversion he wanted Meowington to follow instead of poking around his joint.
“You think it might be an inside job? Somebody you know or work with who will get you next if you start poking around?”
Jeffurry sneered, “I’ll admit you’ve still got it kid, now get out of here before you get gone too.”
As Meowington started to make his way back to the front, he passed the makeshift ring. It appeared that the fight was over, and they were on their way to starting the next. The mouser from the front door had been called in to help pull the cat napping fighter from the wood center. He had just dragged the tabby onto the carpet as Meowington passed and he got a good look at him. Crooked tail, rail thin, tear in the tipped ear.
“Purrcy?” Meowington rapidly blinked and took a step closer. Taking a sniff of the unconscious lump on the ground, his nose scrunched in distaste. Continuing his sniffing, under layers of grime, dirt, sweat, and blood, he could smell the musky scent of his brother.
Looking up at the panther of a cat, he called out, “Get me some water for him and I’ll get you out of his fur.” The mouser assented. While he was grabbing the water, Meowington started pawing at his brother, moving him until he could see the scratched-up face. “What are you doing, you crazy hellcat.” The mouser returned with a bucket of water; the handle carefully held between his teeth. He came right up next to Purrcy and set the bucket down. Meowington told the black cat to step back before unceremoniously tipping the bucket of water onto his brother.
Purrcy leaped up into a lunge position with a hiss torn from his throat. The hiss quickly turned to a yowl as he irritated his injuries. Meowington just shook his head at the pitiful display. “Come on,” he said, reaching for his brother to offer support. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Purrcy jumped back while snipping, “Keep your paws off me! What are you even doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question. Here you are, getting your flank beat for fun, while our sister is missing.”
Purrcy looked away. “Think what you want man. I don’t need your approval. I’m not some scaredy-cat you can boss around now that you’re all uppity.” It was clear that he was lashing out instead of facing his guilt.
“It’s not your fault she’s gone, Purccy.” His eyes snapped up to Meowington’s. “I am going to find her.” Purrcy’s shoulders slumped as if a weight had been lifted, and he no longer had to tense and bare it. “Why don’t you head on back to my place for a bit? The human should be gone most of the night. You can always dip when he comes back. You can get yourself cleaned up and relax for a bit.” Purrcy’s head dipped with his tail dragging across the carpeted floor as they made their way out. He wouldn’t be the same until Meowington got Pawdette back. Once on the street they split ways. Meowington needed to do some thinking.
He was musing at what Jeffurry had confided in him as well as the recent talk with his brother while on his way home for the night. His mind was elsewhere when suddenly he was scooped up by fleshy hands and thrown into a plastic cage. He couldn’t see the figure, but he worried that it was Animal Control off to take him to lockup again. Maybe they couldn’t see the tip gone from his ear—all he knew was that he did not look good behind bars.
Maybe this is what happened to Pawdette and Mewlysses, he thought to himself as he was unceremoniously plopped down into what he suspected was a car. Had Pawdette been in lockup this whole time? As far as he knew, she was chipped and collared. He’d have to have a look for himself once the door opened again. There was the sound of a spray bottle going off, Meowington sniffed to find out what it was. And he inhaled a snout full of Catnip. He settled onto his haunches, not in control of his body. Meowington closed his eyes to the rock of the car.
He opened his eyes to the jolt of the car stopping and the lulling purr of the engine cutting off. Meowington could still feel the effects of the Nip, but it wasn’t as overpowering as before. It was pitch black in his cage and he suspected a blanket had been thrown over it sometime during the drive. This suspicion was confirmed when the door to the car opened and not a single streetlight or building lit up his vision.
He was brought indoors, up what sounded like three flights of stairs. The air shifted from cool and crisp to musty and dry as his capturer brought him inside. Meowington could smell the dander of other animals in the air but not the chemical aroma of sterilized cages that the slammer is known for. If he wasn’t there, then where was he?
That mystery was solved in short order as he was unceremoniously plopped onto the floor, and the blanket was ripped from his confinement. Bright fluorescent lights flooded his cage and blinded him for a flash. As his pupils dilated, he relied on his sense of smell. He caught Pawdette’s scent faintly in the air. As his eyes adjusted, he could see a cozy bedroom through the slants of the bars. He was alone in a room full of animal scents or, at least, he thought he was alone.
There was a rustle of movement from the blind spot of his cage. Meowington flattened his ears against his head and tensed on his haunches. The rustle was coming closer and the scent of another cat, hiding in the scents of the others, became more prominent in the air. “You can calm down now,” the stranger’s voice came out as a whispered rasp. As if speaking above a murmur was a strain.
The world’s oldest cat came into view and simply stared at him. He was twice the size of even an obese cat. He was a gray tabby like his brother Purrcy, but there were splotches of silver throughout his fur that denoted his age. Although he did have the broad face of a British shorthair. The old guy seemed to be sizing him up now, his head tilted to the side in inquiry.
“Are you going to keep staring at me or explain what’s going on here?” Meowington asked calmly, but internally he was frustrated. His sister was so close he could smell her. Yet here he was. Stuck in a cage. Being stared at by a fat old cat who could stand for better grooming habits if his smell was anything to go by.
“I was getting to it, just like to see what y’all look like before the transition takes you,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“What transition?” Meowington didn’t know why he bothered asking. It was clear that this cat was crazy.
“Do you know where you are?” the strange cat asked.
“You seem to, so why don’t you give it to me straight? The name’s Meowington, not that you asked.” The faster he got the information he needed, the faster he could come up with a rescue and escape plan.
The stranger nodded his head and sat down with a fatigued sigh. “Then I’ll tell it to you like it is. You’re never getting out of here, Meowington. This is your forever home until your forever dirt-nap, kid.” He paused, seemingly delaying for a reaction out of him. He only blankly stared back, waiting for him to continue. After a short staring contest, he finally continued. “They call me Alpurrt around here. I was the first cat as far as I can tell.”
“The first to be catnapped you mean?”
“No, I was the first to be adopted, and the last.”
“Ah, I see.” The pieces had finally clicked for Meowington. He didn’t need Alpurrt to elaborate; he needed a plan now.
“I don’t think you do.”
“Want to bet on it,” Meowington smirked out at him, a toothy feline grin.
“Go for it. We got a while before she returns.” As if to enunciate this, he loafed on the ground, getting comfortable.
“I’ve been catnapped by a single, middle-aged woman—”
“And what makes you think that?” Alpurrt interjected.
Meowington sighed and rolled his eyes. “It is not polite to interrupt a cat when he’s explaining his deductions.” He paused to allow for further interruption, but none occurred so he continued. “The bed, only one side is unmade, and the closet only has female clothing.” The bars were slim enough that he had a decent view of the room. “My catnapper smelled vaguely like lavender when she nabbed me from the street. All of this in tandem shows her demographic.”
He stopped to see if Alpurrt was following along, then proceeded. “She leaves you in here under the guise of ‘socializing’ her latest catch when really your job is to tell it like it is. To teach them the rules of the house.” It was Meowington’s belief that on the other side of this door were enough cats to reach double digits. “This part I’ll need you to confirm since I haven’t seen it with my own eyes. If she is scooping every victim right off the street, there must be feral cats here. Yet this room is tidy, no scratch marks or scent marking. Tie that in with your considerable physique. My guess is she subjugates them with obesity.”
Alpurrt snickered. “I’ll admit you’re pretty good. What are you, Mawfia?”
It was Meowington’s turn to laugh. “Nothing as drivel as that. I’m a private investigator. Retired, at least. This is personal.”
“Who’d she take,” he asked, understanding Meowington’s insinuation.
“My sister.”
Alpurrt bowed his head in understanding and said, “She’s not a bad person, you know.” Meowington just stared at him with incredulous eyes. “It wasn’t like this at first. When I was adopted, there was a tiny human that lived here and a man. I think it was her mate. Then one day the baby just wasn’t around anymore. Eventually, the man wasn’t here either.” Alpurrt sighed and looked to the door.
“And that’s when it started?” Meowington knew the answer. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots.
“That’s how it started. She’s been taking any stray she passes from off the streets since I was young and… Well, I guess I haven’t been spry in quite some time, but you get what I mean.”
Meowington peered at Alpurrt. He could see that the cat truly meant what he said. That he cared for his human. “I know what you’re getting at, but some of those cats have family. Family who thinks that they’re dead. That’s what happens to strays when they don’t come home. They’re dead in a ditch somewhere.”
Alpurrt meowed in frustration. “You think I don’t know that? Of course, I know that! You got to understand she had good intentions. A roof over their heads and a consistent meal. That should be a dream for a stray.”
“You don’t get it; you’ve never been a stray. You were adopted from a breeder based on your pedigree. You don’t get what it means to choose because you’ve never had to make that choice before. Only a stray can tell you what it is to be free.”
Alpurrt looked down at the floor, Meowington was a little unsure if he could see it past his bulky belly. “I know you’re right. This has been my life for so long, and it never has felt like a choice. I just think, well, she’s getting them off the streets. She’s getting them sobered up from that Nip shit. How can that be bad, you know?”
“Free will, Alpurrt. You have it too. You can choose what to do with your life.” Alpurrt squinted at him, then looked away. Meowington sighed, “When is she going to let me out of here?”
Alpurrt got up with a stretch and headed toward the door. He got on his hind legs with some considerable effort and started to lightly scratch at the lower half of the door. “She’ll be coming now,” he said.
Meowington got up from within his cage and prepared for the criminal to enter the room. She was quick about it, as if she had been waiting behind the door the entire time. She crouched down in front of his cage and cooed at him in an incomprehensibly high-pitched voice. She reached down and unlatched his cage and stepped aside. Presumably freeing him to go look around and meet the others.
Meowington slunk out slowly, not wanting to appear too eager. He made it into the living room and had to pause at the sight. There had to be over thirty cats in the room, all lying around, too fat to stand up for too long; unmotivated to escape. A knot formed in his chest at the sight. That was going to make planning a bit harder. He quickly glanced around, taking in the numerous unclean litter boxes and empty water bowls. Cat fur was on everything, the gray upholstered sofa, the old, chipped coffee table, even the kitchen island’s marble countertop that Meowington could just make out in the distance. The dander in the air tore a wheezing sneeze from him. To top it all off, there wasn’t a single toy in sight. Apparently, exercise was not an approved activity.
He had felt the human follow them to the living room, after assuring that they were settled, she made her way to the kitchen and started banging things around. He was contemplating where to start looking within this herd of ear-tipped cats when someone pounced on him from behind. He whipped around prepared to claw at the perpetrator but instead went still as he came snout to snout with his sister. She rubbed her cheek against his and began to lick his head. Pawdette was decidedly unharmed. She had put on a few pounds, but she hadn’t been here long enough to get too bad. She had maintained her calico coat, but her nails were long and ragged.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I’ll never leave my apartment again. I promise,” Pawdette was rambling into his neck now.
“Hey, it’s okay, let’s get you out now. Is Mewlysses here with you?”
“I left him over at the window when I saw you come in. I’ll take you to him. You have a plan?” He didn’t have a plan, at least not a fully developed one. Instead of answering, Meowington remained silent, following closely behind his sister through a crowd of flub and fur.
Once at the window ledge, he addressed Mewlysses directly. “So, you’re the reason my sister is here?”
Mewlysses’s head dropped to his matted chest, at least he was ashamed for his part in her capture. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I love her, I swear. I went straight for her. Even sold my bar.” By all accounts, Purrcy had been right. Mewlysses did steal their sister from them, that is her heart.
Meowington stared out the window, it was open, letting in the sugary scent of cooking marshmallows. He could see the house next door. The neighbors were out in their little side yard, making smores. The window opened out onto the fire escape of the apartment complex. “Save your moping for later, and help me get her out of here.”
“Anything. What do you need me to do?” Meowington gave him directions, and Mewlysses made his way around the room. He was whispering their plan to the others, the ones who wanted to follow through could do so. Slowly, the cats who wanted to join made their way over to the window. Meowington propped himself against the window screen, he could feel his fur poking through some of the cracks. He nosed at the strange cats that approached him under the guise of introduction.
“We’re ready when you are,” Mewlysses said, sidling back up beside him.
“Alright. Everybody get ready, this is a one-time plan. If it doesn’t work, the likelihood of us all leaving here alive are slim to none.” With that motivational speech done, Meowington tensed up, ready to pounce. He saw his sister do the same across from him.
“Wait,” someone called from the small, gathered crowd. It was Alpurrt making his way to the window. “Let me help. You could use the extra strength.” The extra weight, more like. Regardless, Meowington nodded and Alpurrt took Pawdette’s spot across from him in the windowsill.
“On three. One, two—” and on three they all surged forward, toward the window screen. Their combined weight bent the frame and with a smack, it fell to the metal floor. He could hear their capturer gasp.
“Run! Get out of here! Get as far away as you can!” Meowington was yelling from the corner of the fire escape, watching, and waiting for his sister to get out. She had sunk into the middle of the pack, her smaller frame pushed back by the others’ bulky weight. He could hear the humans next door yelling. He glanced over and saw the little boy pointing at them. Twenty or so obese cats thudding down metal stairs was hard to miss. He caught a glimpse of the older man running inside, hopefully off to call Human Control. The woman, still sitting near the little boy, seemed to be yelling something.
Glancing back just in time to see Pawdette gracefully jump out the window, Meowington took off after her. The remaining few jumped out the window, uncoordinated at best, but followed close behind. He could see Alpurrt gazing at him from the window, then disappearing within the apartment. Meowington knew that he had finally made his own choice. While he didn’t necessarily understand it, he could still respect it. And so, they ran, leaving the escaped strays to their business on the South Side. They did not stop running until Meowington saw Pawdette back to safety, to her cushy apartment with her loving humans. She promised to remain inside until he and Purrcy visited tomorrow. He told Mewlysses to scram right before he left. They had a lot to talk about. Just not tonight.
He had finally made it back to his apartment in Gold Coast. It had been a long day and he was unwinding on the couch in the living room. His human had come home and plopped down next to him. Meowington allowed the man to stroke his back, and if he let out a few purrs, there was no one around to prove it. His human flipped on the television, the black screen going almost three-dimensional with color. What he saw made him snicker uncontrollably. Reminiscent of what she had done to Meowington only a few hours earlier, there was his capturer on the big screen, being cuffed and put in the backseat of a car. Even if those humans take credit, this was yet another case to add to his repertoire.
Kaitlyn Young is a current BA/MA dual degree student at DePaul University, studying Creative Writing and Publishing. Her focus is on poetry and short fiction, emphasizing addiction and mental illness within her writings. While Kaitlyn has no previously published work, her orange cat Pineapple (aka her muse) is an avid listener and her biggest fan.