Shirley Murphy - Cat On The Edge

The cats played for a few minutes, then sat regarding him. And at last they trotted on over, looked up at him bright-eyed and smiling, and tied into the scraps of warm veal roll and the hickory-smoked ham and the crab salad. He liked the way cats enjoyed their food. The tom smacked and gobbled, but the little tabby ate delicately. Interesting that the tom, though he was bigger, shared equally with the tabby, leaving half for her.

The tidbits he set out were never large, but when they were arranged all together onto a paper plate they made a respectable meal. He found it curious that people left good food on their plates. It was never the fat folks-they cleaned up every bite. It was the thin women, the ones who looked like they needed a little nourishment. They left the nicest scraps.

As the two cats feasted, a third cat appeared out of the dark vines at the end of the alley. As it paused beneath the light, its creamy color shone bright, and its eyes gleamed golden. This was a new cat; Jolly did not know this one. It had to be a female, so round and sweet-faced, such a pretty cat. As she drew closer he could see that her cream-colored fur was streaked with orange, like rich whipped cream folded with a dash of apricot jam.

She might be a stranger, but she trotted right on down the alley bold as you please, toward the scrap plate. She stopped once to rub her shoulder against the container of a potted tree, obliquely observing the two cats as if assessing them. The two feasting cats watched her indirectly, their ears twisting toward her, but they did not stop eating.

The cream cat was bold as brass-she trotted right up to the plate, pushed the gray tom aside, and took what was left of his share. The tom didn't object, but the tabby cat lashed her tail, laid back her ears, screamed, and lit into the cream cat, biting and clawing. Jolly didn't know whether to stop her or let them alone.

Before he could make up his mind, the scuffle was finished. The two backed off glaring at each other and then looked at the tom. And something strange happened.

The two females, without any more preliminaries, suddenly seemed to make friends. They approached each other with their ears and whiskers forward in a friendly way, sat down near one another, and began to wash their paws. The tom stood looking on, seeming as amused by them as Jolly felt.

Cats. Who knew what went on in those furry little heads.

He picked up the empty paper plate, dropped it in the garbage, and went back inside, leaving the night to the cats, to those amazing beasts.

When Jolly had gone, the three cats trotted away up the alley side by side and disappeared into the dark shadows beneath the jasmine vine.

There, sheltered by tangles of small, dense leaves dotted with yellow blossoms, the cream cat lay down and washed herself more thoroughly. She did not speak for some time. She looked Dulcie and Joe over, her face registering a dozen expressions. They looked back uneasily, and Dulcie shivered. She was both afraid of what would happen, and excited. Joe regarded the cream cat with puzzled unease, and he had to keep reminding himself that this was Kate. This was Kate Osborne.

Kate wasn't one to make small talk. When she spoke, it was in strange, rhyming words. Words that clung like honey in the cats' minds. At the rich sounds a tingling dizziness filled Joe. The shadows tilted. He thought he was falling, he clawed at the foliage to steady himself.

But soon his dizziness was gone. Nothing more happened. He crouched in alarm, his stub tail tucked down, his ears flat.

He hadn't liked the feeling of being out of control, of being pulled away from himself. For a minute he'd felt like some vaporized sci-fi hero zapped away into another dimension.

If that was part of the program, he'd pass, thank you. He glanced at Dulcie. She, too, had remained herself. She did not look happy.

Dulcie had felt nothing at all. She could have gotten a better buzz from a sprig of catnip.

The cream cat tried again, repeating the bright rhyme, but still nothing happened. Joe and Dulcie remained small and four-footed.

The cream cat's eyes narrow, puzzled, then widened. Standing within the thick shadows, she said the words a third time and this time she allowed herself to change. She was suddenly tall, her hair tangled in the vine, her blouse caught on the twigs.

The cats stared up at her. Dulcie's green eyes were huge with envy.

Kate said, "Did you feel nothing?"

Joe felt relief. He had no desire to do that stuff. One try was more than he wanted. He was a cat- he had everything he needed just as he was. His human thoughts, his human talents, his ability to read and speak, worked just fine in his own gray fur. He had the best of both worlds. He was Joe Grey, enjoying his human talents without human entanglements. Free and unencumbered.

But Dulcie was crushed. When she realized she couldn't change, she had crouched, desolate, her ears down, her tail tucked under.

Joe nuzzled her and licked her face, but she couldn't respond.

Ever since the day in the automotive yard when she saw, within Kate's eyes, a cat looking back at her, when she saw the astonishing truth of what was possible, she had allowed herself magnificent dreams.

Visions of becoming tall and dark-haired and beautiful, visions of her green-eyed human self, had driven and excited her. She had imagined going out to fancy restaurants, attending the symphony and plays, had dreamed of dancing, of slipping into silk cocktail dresses and spike heels, into little satin bras and lace panties. "Try again," she whispered.

Kate tried. Dulcie tried with her, repeating the words as Kate said them. But it was no use. Dulcie remained a cat. A tear slid down her fur, a human tear.

Kate knelt in the shadows beside her, touching Dulcie's face. "There could be other spells. Maybe another spell…"

"Maybe," Dulcie said, not believing it. "Maybe…"

But then she looked at Joe. Cocking her head, she saw for the first time how relieved he was. She'd been too busy with her own disappointment to see him brighten when Kate's words didn't work. She reached to lick his nose. "Why?" she said, pressing close to him. "Why don't you want to change?"

He nibbled an itch on his paw, and gave her a long, unblinking look. "We're like nothing else, Dulcie. You and I and Kate-and maybe a few others somewhere. We are unique."

"So?" She waited, puzzled.

"I want to enjoy what I have. Don't you see? I like the change just as it is. I've been having a ball." His eyes were bright, intense. "I liked being a special cat. I like being a cat. I like my new skills, but most of all I like what I am."

She tried to understand. He was aware, sentient, yet totally feline. And he was perfectly happy.

She was quiet for a long time.

At last she touched Kate's hand with her paw. "No more spells," she said softly. And she pressed against Joe, purring. If Joe was content, then maybe she would be, too. Maybe this was the better way. She would try his way, and see how she felt about it. Try enjoying this new life just as she was-while she went on stealing silk teddies.

Once a year Jolly's Deli held a party in the alley. George Jolly and his staff set up tables and chairs along the brick lane, and out along the sidewalk, and served an elegant cold buffet of their specialty salads, cold roast turkey and pastrami and roast beef, and assorted cheeses and breads and desserts. The annual affair was a big event in Molena Point, a time for neighbors to get together. Even the village cats could party if they cared to brave the noisy crowd. George Jolly himself arranged leftovers for the cats on a row of paper plates beside the back door.