Моника Шонесси - The Tell-Tail Heart

"You didn't ask, but I will tell you anyway. I am happy, too," I said. "Without me, the Poe household would collapse. I watch over Sissy, eat scraps for Muddy, and serve as muse for Eddie. He's a man of letters, you know. Of great importance." My thoughts drifted to my friend, provoking a half-purr that I quickly stifled. "In return, Eddie feeds me breakfast and dinner, scratches me between the ears, and worships me in a most satisfactory manner."

"You're not the only one who watches from the field. I've seen your Eddie, and he looks very kind." Snow lowered her voice. "Don't tell Big Blue, but I've always wondered what it would be like to live in a house and have a human dote on me."

"Most days, it's grand." I yawned to clear my head. "If you don't mind me asking… Why did you help me win the contest?"

The snap of a twig stopped us.

Snow seemed relieved at the interruption. "Who's there?" she called.

I tried to look ahead, to see beyond the shrubs obstructing our view, but they had grown too thick. "My whiskers are telling me this is a trap," I said.

"Then let's spring it." She trotted past me along the curve, her tail high. I ran to catch up, praying Big Blue hadn't lost us in the greenery. As we rounded the bend, Claw, Ash, and Stub leaped from the bushes, surrounding us on all sides. My whiskers are never, ever wrong.

"It's our old friend, Tortie," Claw said. "And she's brought a friend." He studied Snow with more care than I'd expected. "Haven't I seen you before?"

"You knew my mother," she said. "We met when I was a kitten."

Stub rubbed along Snow's side. "You're all grown up now, pretty molly. You looking for a mate?"

"Take care, Stub," Ash said. "Once I finish with her, she won't be nearly as charming."

"Leave her alone," I said. "Your quarrel is with me."

"No, QuickPaw," Snow said. "It's with me. It always has been."

Claw arched his back. "With you? I don't even know—" His eyes widened. He'd obviously recalled their connection—a strong one, from his mien.

"Yes… That's it. Now you remember," she said to Claw. "The way you chased my mother into the street." She flashed her canines. "The way the carriage wheels dragged her over the cobblestones. The way she died, gasping for breath in front of a little white kitten." Snow bristled her tail and shrieked, "Now you will die!"

At this, Big Blue and his sentries sprang from the hedges to attack the miscreants. Claw, Ash, and Stub met the challenge with furious rounds of scratching and biting. I backed away, giving wide berth to the brawl, and took refuge behind a tree trunk. Flying Feline! What hissing! What screeching! I may have missed the freedom of the street, but I didn't miss the conflict. At one point, Ash jumped on Snow's back and flattened her, forcing me to intervene. After a series of challenging calculations, I climbed onto a leggy, low-lying tree limb and brought it down upon their struggle, breaking the two apart. My weight, at long last, was an advantage.

Once the whirlwind of paws and tails sputtered out, I emerged and surveyed the splatter of blood. The three demon cats lay on the earth, beaten and battered, but still very much alive. They'd fallen from their throne in a hail of spent fur and spittle, giving me the passage I needed. I don't know what became of Claw after I left the park that day, but I never saw him again.

* * *

Joy is a shadow cat that comes and goes when it pleases. A mere figment of mood, it slinks in from the ether and creeps beside you for a time, vanishing at the first sign of ownership. It delighted me with its company as I traveled south of Logan Square. Unlike yesterday, however, the longer I walked, the more familiar my surroundings grew until I became convinced of my bearings. I had lived here, or very close to here, near the nexus of Schuylkill Seventh and Locust, in the home where Sissy had taken ill. What fine times, before darkness descended on the Poe family and snuffed out the candles of gaiety and innocence.

While some buildings had come and gone since the spring move, the character of the neighborhood remained intact. A mishmash of dilapidated and divine, this parcel of Brotherly Love had remained an architectural contradiction. Brick townhomes still rubbed yards with shacks of yore. A good sneeze would've reduced most of the older structures to firewood, but they were no less charming to a cat with their fluttering clotheslines and free-roaming chickens. I know because we lived in one for a short period before settling on Coates.

While the houses coexisted without loss of dignity, I could not say the same of the humans. Ladies and gents kept to the right of the sidewalk, downtrodden to the left. As for me, I chose the middle path and traveled along the gulley of space between them—an unpleasant strip of classism that crackled with animosity—until I reached a butcher shop overrun with women robed in silk and fur. From my previous jaunts, I knew the refuse here to be of high quality. As I dug through the trash pits behind the store, I wondered whether my preference for elite butcheries made me a hauteur as well. Then I turned up a trout head and ceased to care. Delicious.

Stuffed with fishy bits, I lay on the stoop of a new three-story home next door and watched the skirts and cloaks whisk by on the sidewalk. I flexed my claws. The finery needed a good shredding, like curtains upon the breeze, and I was just the cat to give it. But what of Mr. Abbott? He needed a good shredding, too. I'd just chided myself for forgetting him when a tom padded toward me, a thin blue ribbon around his neck. Save for a patch of white upon his chest, his coat had the all-over hue of burnt candlewick, and it billowed about him like a cloud. He stopped and appraised me, the tip of his tail crooked.

"Hello," he said. "What brings you to my doorstep?"

I tried to suck in my gut, but my lungs nearly collapsed from the strain. "Your doorstep? Forgive me. I'll move along." After the row in Logan Square, I didn't want trouble.

"You can stay, miss. I'm just here for my midday snack."

I hadn't noticed before, but he had a bit of a paunch. It didn't swell like mine did after a pot roast luncheon. Instead, it rounded his figure, giving him a relaxed, well-fed appearance that hinted at a want-free life. "So this is your home?"

"Yes, but take heart. A cat with beautiful markings like yours will find an owner."

Cats don't blush as humans do, thank the Great Cat Above. "I must confess…I have a home. A human dwelling, like yours."

"I should've guessed. You've too fine a coat to be living on the streets." He hopped up the steps to join me. "Do you live in Rittenhouse as well?"

" Kitten house?"

"No, Rittenhouse."

"Oh, that's what you call it. I used to live a few blocks from here, but moved."

He lifted his nose. "Well, parts of it are becoming very uppity."

My whiskers vibrated. "Uppity? Do you know the man from Shakey House Tavern?"

"Who?"

"Mr. Uppity."

"I'm afraid you've lost me."

"Well, you said his name. So naturally I thought you knew him." He stared at me, his pale eyes fixed and unblinking. I continued. "Never mind. I'm not here for him. I'm here for a Mr. Hiram Abbott. He's oldish and fattish and has teeth the color of gravy."

"Turkey gravy or beef gravy?"

"Turkey. Definitely turkey."

"Haven't seen him. But I can help you look. I know the streets better than any cat."

"Splendid. What about your snack?"

"My tuna can wait. Little Sarah never tires of feeding me." He shook his head. "Or tying ribbons around my neck." He leapt to the sidewalk and waited for me to descend the steps.

When we were eye to eye again, he presented himself as Midnight, a somewhat predictable name for a cat of his coloring, but one I liked. Humans, on the whole, exercised little imagination when labeling their pets or themselves. In our area alone we have three Johns and four Marys, with no similarities among them save for gender. Dogs, too, are subject to this illogicality, as every other one answers to Fido, though most are too dumb to mind. I offered Midnight my particulars, bragging about my Eddie and our "country estate" on Coates, and thus began our adventure.