Andre Norton - Catfantastic II

Merlin's anger brings the youngest two-legs over fast. "Puff, are you bothering poor Merlin? Get down, Puff. Merlin's sick."

Her littermate calls over a shoulder. "Get him ready. Ms. Black is here to see him."

Both two-legs firm their lips and shake their heads.

"She's very upset, isn't she?"

"She's always upset. She's crazy about that cat. Look how she always gets one of us to come and sit for him when she goes away. And brings us gifts, too."

"He's a neat cat. Dr. Colt and Dr. Bell are worried about him. He's how old-thirteen? And he had this last year, too?"

"Dr. Bell says it's worse this time."

"It hasn't been a good week," sighs the elder two-legs. "That carriage-snatcher… there's lots of crazies. You haven't been here long enough to remember, but I do. Forest Hills used to be safe. You expected trouble in Manhattan, but not here. Now, we have people climbing in windows, and people grabbing babies right off Austin Street. Did you see how many people brought their kids in to office hours today? They're scared to leave them out of their sight."

"They drove Fenster and Purvis crazy. Puff ignored them."

"That's Puff for you. He was a good donor for Merlin today. Come on, Merlin. Good cat, pretty cat. Here we go. Want to see your mommy?"

The youngest two-legs lifts him from the cage. He protests and struggles a little. But "Merlin… Merlin…" they practically sing his name, and he is calm again. He rests his head against the shoulder of the she who holds him, and lets her run gentle hands over his fur. It is still glossy, with its ordered markings of night and moonlight, but I think it will dry out fast. I also think that the Soulsinger is enjoying the attention.

"Shame on you, Puff, upsetting Merlin."

The door swings wide. Borne out to see his two-legs, oh, very well, his human, Merlin flicks a sly, triumphant glance at me.

I follow him out. Once again, Merlin's she is talking, with salt water running down her hairless face. She smells scared and sad. As he sees her, he tries to lunge from the arms of the one who-holds him. As his two-legs sees him, her whole face shines. She does not smell as unhappy as she had.

"Merlin!" she calls. "There's my good cat."

The two-legs shut the door upon them. She, too, smelled unhappy. Fenster, who shares the foodbowls with me, trots up and paws at her knees. The two-legs swoops her up and holds her like a human kitten, seeking comfort. Fenster, the slut, purrs.

"Kitty!" squalls a two-legs kitten. I flee beneath a table and shut my eyes. Over and over the bells ring. There are a lot of critical cats coming in tonight, a lot of two-legs-well, enough- people speaking in soft, nervous voices.

"I didn't want to come out, but what could I do when Samantha was so sick?"

"We're picking up Dook. He was just fixed."

"They had cops patrolling Seventy-first. It's good to see cops on the beat again."

"I hope they catch that…"

The people growl in anger and in hope.

I lick the last traces of bitter water from my mangled ruff and wait.

The light beneath the door grows, waking me from my nap. One of the sisters carries Merlin, who protests separation from his human, back to the inner lairs. Merlin's two-legs stands before Dr. Bell: both females, but how different. Merlin's human is soft, long-furred, the wrappings that two-legs hide their bodies with carefully arranged and sparkly with the toys their females like. Dr. Bell is thinner, less carefully groomed: a lean barn dweller facing off against an indoor drowser upon cushions.

Their feelings hurt. Merlin's human fears and aches; Dr. Bell wants only to escape to the inner lairs and the Free Folk who watch and do not ask hard questions. Clearly, she forces herself to remain and meet the other female's eyes. Both females' mouths move in sounds that, ordinarily, I would ignore. But Merlin has stuck a thorn in my feelings as well as my curiosity. I can not turn away.

"I know you're on the cat's side," says Merlin's human. "So am I. I want him back, of course I do. But I want what's best for him. You're the doctor. What you say to do, I'll do." Her eyes fill, but her voice is quite steady.

Dr. Bell flicks an eyebrow up in surprised respect at this pampered-looking female. "We're trying our best. It's not leukemia or feline AIDS. It could be his spleen or his liver. We just don't know yet. But I have to say, it doesn't look too good."

The human looks down. "I know," she whispers. She makes the hand and voice gestures of respect that two-legs use. "Thank you, Doctor," she says and turns to go.

"You might wait a minute till you calm down," Dr. Bell suggests. "So you can watch out on the way home. God only knows what's out there."

Which is why I like it here, her undervoice tells me clearly. I cure pain. And the cats I work with are decent; they don't turn on their own kind.

Merlin's human nods thanks. She draws a deep breath and forces calm upon her face the way we lower our inmost eyelids when we gaze into the sun.

"Who's this?" she asks.

To my surprise, it is me she is talking about this time. I stroll out from beneath the table to let her admire me.

"That's Puff. He was Merlin's donor this morning."

The next instant, Merlin's human is down on her knees before me. She is quick in her movements, and her hand gestures are graceful, almost like paws. "Oh, the brave cat, good cat. But look, his ruff is shaved, and it was so pretty," she croons at me. She glances up at the one called Dr. Bell. "Puffs a hero-cat."

If she keeps that up, I think I may have a hairball, just to teach her. I raise a forepaw to clean it and ignore her outstretched hands.

"Puff's a little standoffish tonight."

"Is he all right? Did you take a lot of blood from him?"

Dr. Bell nods. "A good bit. He was scared."

"Poor Puff. Thank you, Puff. Tell me," again, she appeals to the other two-legs. "May I bring Puff treats when I come tomorrow? Whatever happens, I'm grateful to him."

Still talking, she Wraps heavy clothes about her and vanishes into the night beyond the lights where the critical cats and the noisy kittens of both breeds wait.

If I had come to her, she might have felt better. What is that to me? She is just another noisy two-legs. Still, there had been that promise of treats…

I head for the inmost lairs. Merlin lies upon the sunshine pad. He is breathing too fast, but purring as he breathes. I paw the cage lock open and come in beside him, nuzzling his side. His eyes blink open, lazy, satisfied. Seeing his human has eased him; he seems stronger and happier. I am angry at myself that I care.

"She groomed me; we don't like it when my fur is matted. She praised me and sang my name. Said I was a good cat and whatever I did was fine. I wish I were going home; I could run it to suit myself now. Such a good human." He shuts his eyes, musing on what would have appeared to be the most delightful of Dreamtrails, but what I know has to be that idiot human of his.

"Did you see Her?" he asks eagerly.

"I saw her," I admit. "She thanked me and would have stroked my back. But I was washing. Tell me, does she keep her word? She promised me food for helping you."

"That sounds like her," Merlin says, pleased. "She'll bring you treats. And she understands what we Free Folk like-tender beef in tiny cans; fat salmon and cream and things you can steal off plates."

If he keeps it up, I think again that I will have a hairball, and never mind the respect due to Soulsingers.

"You have made me strong for now, my brother," he praises me. "She will be afraid without me."

"Why is she afraid?" I hate to ask it, but my curiosity stretches and leaps. "She is sleek and well." Not like you, I think. "And she is old enough to be as wise as a female who has raised many litters."