Урсула Ле Гуин - Wonderful Alexander And The Catwings

Beside him sat a handsome young tabby cat with tabby wings. "I’m Roger," the cat said, "and we are the Catwings. Don’t be afraid!"

"I’m not afraid," Alexander said fiercely. "I am Alexander Furby."

"I’m glad to know you, Alexander. Will you come and have some dinner with us?" Roger said.

Alexander did not need to be asked twice.

When dinner was over, he was so tired and so full that all he could do was waddle after the black kitten into the barn. On the floor was a pile of sweet dry hay, and in the hay the two kittens curled up together, purred once, and fell last asleep.

The next day, Alexander learned all the Catwings’ names: handsome Roger, thoughtful Thelma, kind James, who limped a little on one wing, small Harriet, and his own special friend, the black kitten, their youngest sister, Jane.

It seemed sad to Alexander that Jane had not been able to tell him her own name. While she was off flying about somewhere, he asked Thelma about her.

"Well, Alexander," Thelma said, "we’re the only cats with wings in all the world, so far as we know. We four older ones were born in the city, underneath a dumpster. Our dear mother, like you, had no wings. But she was very wise, and as soon as we could fly well, she told us to fly far away. She knew that if we were caught, the people of the city would make shows of us, and put us in cages, and we would never have any freedom. By great good fortune we came to this place, where our friends Hank and Susan look after us. They take care that no one knows about us."

"They are your Caretakers," said Alexander.

"Yes," said Thelma. "Well, once James and Harriet returned to the city to visit our dear mother. They found our street in ruins, but hiding in an attic was a young black kitten with wings."

"It was Jane!" said Alexander.

Thelma nodded. "Our little sister, Jane. She was all alone, and the building she was in was about to be destroyed. They rescued her. After they found our mother and visited with her, they brought Jane home to our farm. But little Jane has never said a word, except Me, and when she is frightened, she says, Hate! We think something terrible happened to her when she was a young kitten, separated from our mother."

"When she was hiding in the attic?" Alexander asked.

"Yes," said Thelma. "She won’t even come up to the loft of the barn, where we sleep. It must remind her of that attic. That’s why she sleeps in the hay downstairs. She’s well, and seems happy enough. But she can’t speak."

She's very brave. She rescued me," Alexander said.

"I’m very glad she did," said Thelma, and she gently pushed him down and washed him quite hard all over, just as if she were his own mother.

"Thelma," Alexander said, "my mother will be worried about me."

We’ve talked about that," said Thelma. "Susan and Hank will be here soon. Wait till you meet them!"

And very soon over the hill came a boy and a girl, with a can full of milk and a bag full of kibbles. All the Catwings came swooping about them, and perched on their shoulders and heads and hands and noses, and purred at them, and Susan and Hank laughed at the Catwings and petted them and threw kibbles in the air for them to catch. But then they saw Alexander.

"Look!" they said.

Alexander came towards them rather shyly, waving his tail. It was golden and plumy, like his mother’s tail.

"Oh!" said Susan. "Oh, the poor little kitten! He doesn’t have any wings!"

Her brother, Hank, laughed. "Most kittens don’t, Sooz," he said.

Susan was already holding Alexander and petting him. Alexander was purring madly.

"Listen, Sooz," Hank said. "You know Mother has been saying she’d like to have a cat. But she can’t have one of the Catwings, because visitors might see it. If this is a stray kitten. "

So Alexander found himself being carried on Susan’s shoulder over the hill to the farmhouse where the children lived.

There the children’s mother greeted him. "Oh," she said, "what a wonderful tail! What a wonderful kitten!" And she scratched him under the chin.

"What an intelligent woman," Alexander thought.

"But where do you think he came from?" the children’s mother asked. Nobody knew. And Alexander could not tell them, since cats and human beings don’t talk the same way.

He settled down at the farmhouse, where he was treated very well, though there were no sardines and no feather beds. At night he could sleep with Susan or with Hank. But he was expected to live outdoors during the day, and to catch mice when he grew up.

Every day he trotted over the hill to the old barn and played with Jane and the other Catwings. He was very happy. But he did think about his mother and father and sisters, and so one day, when a red car drove into the farmhouse yard, he grew very excited and came running with his plumy tail waving.

Out of the little red car stepped the Owner.

"Is that you, Alexander?" he said.

Alexander purred and rubbed his head on the Owner’s leg. Then he danced off to the front door, for he wanted him to meet Hank and Susan and their mother and father.

The Owner came in and talked a while with the children’s mother and father. The children’s mother was polite, but her voice trembled a little when she said, "I have become very fond of him, but he is your kitten."

"His sisters have an excellent new home," said the Owner. "I can only come to my country house now and then. Of course Mr. and Mrs. Furby will live there. But if you could keep Alexander, I would be truly grateful.

Oh, I should love to keep him!" cried the children’s mother.

Alexander looked from one to the other, and purred extremely loudly, so that they both laughed.

Every now and then the Owner came by in his red car with Mr. and Mrs. Furby, so that Alexander could see his mother and father again.

Mr. Furby was usually asleep in the back seat, but Mrs. Furby always washed Alexander’s face carefully and told him to be her own wonderful boy.

"Of course," said Alexander.

Life was good at Overhill Farm. Alexander was growing fast. His tail was magnificent. He had nearly caught two mice. Every day he and Jane played all about the old barn and in the woods.

James taught him how to fish in the creek, and Roger taught him to stalk. Thelma told him hair-raising stories about the city where she and the other Catwings had been born. And little Harriet played hide-and-pounce every evening with him and Jane.

But sometimes Alexander sat with his plumy tail around his paws and thought. He remembered how he had left home intending to do wonderful things.

All he had done was get nearly run over by a truck, chased by a dog, stuck in a tree, and lost. Jane had saved him and brought him to this happy home. It was Jane who had done the wonderful thing.

What wonderful thing could he possibly do for Jane?