Martin Greenberg - Catopolis

“You too.” Cassie approached and they touched noses.

“Have you made decision?” Stefan pulled back, his eyes catching the moonlight.

“I have.” Cassie said, as the lights of the city beckoned her. She pranced away and jumped onto the wall that surrounded the rooftop to stare at the beautiful buildings with their twinkling lights. Stefan followed, and they both stared over the edge, looking at the precipitous drop over fifty stories down.

This was her home, but it was a big world out there. “I’ll go, Stefan. Take me away with you.”

“I’ll show you so much more than you’ve ever imagined.”

“Not so fast.” Mr. Big-Paws jumped onto the wall, his large frame towering over the Russian.

“Y-you’re back.” Cassie couldn’t believe it.

“Go away from here, this does not concern you,” Stefan said, showing his teeth in irritation.

“Oh, it does.” Big-Paws’ ears were flat against his head and he bared his own teeth.

“What’s going on?” Cassie asked.

“Maureen got in touch with me.” Big-Paws inched closer to Stefan. “Her friend downtown looked up this cat’s human. He’s Russian mob, on the run from the authorities. And who do you think is the brains behind the operation? Certainly not that human.” Big-Paws kept his ears flat. Cassie thought that made his face look strangely savage.

“Is it true?” Cassie asked Stefan, remembering the smell of money and gunpowder under the couch cushion.

“True, yes.” Stefan didn’t back down. “And knowing this is true should make your friend here worry for his life. I am not a cat to be trifled with.”

“Did he tell you he was on the run, Cassie?” Big-Paws asked. “His human will never be able to get back into this country once he leaves. They’re after him right now. That’s why he’s got to leave, and fast.”

Stefan’s eyes told her that it was the truth.

Big-Paws stalked forward, allowing his claws to click on the stone. “Is that the kind of life you want, Cassie, being on the run all the time?”

“Humans are easy to replace,” Stefan said. “Don’t listen to this mixed-breed oaf. He is just jealous that I have you now and he does not. Don’t worry, I will find another human to serve us as we travel the world. I always do.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Cassie said. She glared at Stefan. “You should have told me the truth.” Then she fixed her stare on Big-Paws. “And you came back only after Maureen told you I was seeing another tom. Both of you make me sick.”

“You will not come with me?” Stefan asked.

“No.” Cassie wrinkled her pink little nose in disgust. “I’m done with tomcats. You’re all trouble.” She hopped off the wall and sped for the stairs.

A vicious catfight ensued as she reached the steps. They yowled, hissed, clawed at the air, then slammed together. Stefan used his lightning speed to wrap his front legs around Big-Paws’ neck, then scratched at the larger cat’s vulnerable belly with his rear claws. Big-Paws bit Stefan’s ear and grappled ferociously with the gangster cat, trying for a mortal strike.

Cassie couldn’t watch anymore. The sounds of the battle faded as she entered the building. A sudden stab went through her heart.

I’ve given up on love. What am I doing? I just let two toms get away, and one of them I actually loved. Cassie switched directions, running back toward the roof.

Tufts of fur floated in the air and blood stained the stone. Big-Paws and Stefan were locked in a ball of fury atop the precipice.

“Stop!” Cassie sprinted forward.

Big-Paws didn’t react to her appeal. His head shot forward as the Russian hesitated, and he locked his jaws around Stefan’s throat. Howling, the gangster threw his weight to one side. Both toppled over the edge in front of Cassie’s horror-filled eyes.

The sudden quiet was a shock. Cassie stood there, quivering in every muscle. When she could move again, she slowly approached the ledge. Jumping up, she peered down into the darkness.

They were both gone. She was alone. Their deaths were on her paws. A wail ripped from her throat.

“Don’t jump, whatever you do.”

Cassie stopped yowling. She looked closer. Bloody and tattered, Mr. Big-Paws stood on the balcony one floor below the roof. There was no sign of Stefan. She knew that from this height, landing on one’s feet wouldn’t help much.

Cassie met Big-Paws by the stairs a few moments later. They limped into the garden together in silence.

“I came back for you, Kitty.” He nuzzled her. Cassie inhaled his musky scent and felt herself getting warm all over.

“I’m so glad you did. I missed you a lot.” Cassie buried her nose in his bloody, matted chest fur.

“You’re the only queen for me.” He licked her face, and she knew he loved her. They would have kittens together, and life in the city would be purrfect.

She was sure. He was the one. Their eyes met and Cassie said, “I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?” he asked.

Cassie purred, felt the primal heat building into a fire. She licked her lips provocatively and smiled. “It’s time to find out if it’s true what they say about cats with big paws.”

Around noontime on Election Day, it was as if a dozen still-living mice began to squirm in my stomach. To try to settle the feeling, I left my aides behind at the E-Day headquarters and pattered down to the bluffs behind City Hall. After raining all morning, the sun was peeking through the clouds, casting a rainbow over the forested river bank opposite. Awe tingled through me, spreading down my back all the way to my toes as I watched the rays of color illuminate the sky.

A sign of destiny?

By the time darkness leached the light from the sky, all the votes would be counted. One way or another, my path would be marked.

“Mr. Churchill. Mr. Churchill!” I twitched my nose, catching the scent of Diefenbaker, my campaign manager, as he barreled around the bend leading from the front entrance of the municipal complex, his white and brown coat all ashambles.

Something official, then. If he’d been coming from the victory-I hoped-party set-up, he’d have come up the path toward me and not approached from behind.

“What’s happened?” I demanded. I kept my tail steady, not willing to show any sign of uncertainty. The first thing I had learned early in my career was that good carriage was important even when your nerves felt as if they’d rake your fur into prickly points. I dug my claws into the stonework of the wall protecting unwary visitors from the sheer drop to the river below.

Someone’s seen through my façade. They’re going to cede the election to Whittington. My life is ruined.

There was no way to keep such fears from tumbling through my thoughts. After all, everyone trusted Whittington. His namesake had had a cat after all-one with posture and poise-a true noble. It didn’t matter that Whittington was only a name chosen to give my competitor credibility. Thanks to that blasted story, his moniker was legend.

Certainly, my namesake was revered also. Yet, try as I might, Whittington had the upper paw with voters. Maybe if we were in a time of war, it would be different.

The truth was, the real Whittington’s cat had been of noble background, and my competition was as well. He could trace his lineage back to the old country; his ancestors had come over among the first settlers. No wonder the masses were drawn to him. The populace always voted for those with a pedigree.

If they’ve learned the truth, I won’t even have a chance…

“Protestors, sir!” Diefenbaker panted. “Down where the vote’s being counted!”

“Thank goodness for rats.” I said, casting aside my doubts in favor of dealing with Diefenbaker’s dilemma.