I head butted the flap. And again. Wedging my head between the door flaps, I looked around carefully. Wondering where It was. My ears twitched; I couldn’t hear It. I stepped through carefully, my head on a swivel. It’s always there… somewhere. From the distance It began.
“Mine! Mine! Go Away! Go Away!”
I slowly settled down where I was next to the door, staring off into the distance. Not looking directly at the pesky thing, but still aware of it’s every move. It kept berating me, it was continuous.
Finally I strolled away from the shaded porch to the back of the yard. It followed. It wouldn’t even let me do my business in peace. It tracked me from branch to branch, from the tree to the bush, to the fence.
“Mine! Mine! Go Away! Go Away!”
I slowly walked back to the porch and the pesky thing dive bombed me. I saw a few of the others adjust their feathers as if they were going to join in. I picked up the pace. Once back under the shade the bird still wouldn’t give up. Well, I’m not going anywhere. This is my yard.
It wouldn’t stop hopping and yelling at me. The biped wasn’t doing anything about it. She sat out there watching the whole thing. Only stirring for a moment when the pesky things tried the mass attack. But otherwise she was fiddling with the buzzy object and ignoring my plight. I followed her when she went back in. It was getting toasty outside, and the only time the little bird stopped yelling was when a bigger one was coasting overhead.
Oh, those bipeds and their buzzy objects. You wouldn’t believe the amount of time they spend on those things. Always touching and petting on the things. And jumping when they go off, making weird mouth noises into them. Such odd behaviors for these creatures. I have to almost knock the buzzy objects out of their hands to get any attention from them.
For some odd reason, the hotter it gets outside, the more the bipeds close up the inside. I do get a bit hissy when they move me away from the breeze holes. Especially when they close them up.
Even though I’ve been busy with the infiltrators this season, I’ve noticed an all white messenger hanging out at the edge of my territory, but with the pesky bird mocking me, I’ve had to stick close to home. If it is a message from the Queen, they’ll have to come closer to deliver it.
The Mop is getting pushy as he gets older. The Mini Mop is easier to stare down. I guess family hilarity builds cat-empt, as the saying goes.
That night I manage to go on the prowl. One of the few times the bird isn’t as watchful. The dark does help to hide at least half of me. I snuck past the Mini Mop’s yard and stopped for a moment to peek in on the Queen that just moved in (she was sleeping on her biped) before continuing.
The white messenger met me by the small outbuilding at the edge of my territory.
“Your Majesty.” The messenger bowed.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“The Queen’s personal messenger.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “It is my sad duty to relay the news; the Queen is dead. Long live the Queen.” She bowed deeply before me.
“The Queen? How, how did she die?”
“Your mother died of old age, Your Majesty.”
“Stop. Just stop calling me that. I’m here, exiled, because I don’t want the responsibility. Find someone else to rule you. I can’t continue the line anyway. The bipeds have made me unfit to rule.”
“Then you chose to relinquish your title? Princess Baset?” The messenger seemed a bit cocky when asking the question.
“Yes. Whatever. I hear-by relinquish my title. I am just Baset. Not Queen, not Princess. Just me.” I turned away and began stalking back home.
“So, the title will fall to your brother then? Long live the King?” The messenger yelled after me.
“Yeah, yeah. Long live the King.”
I don’t know what kind of response the messenger hoped to evoke from me, but I kept walking without looking back. I had more important things on my mind. I glanced at the moon. Perfect. I was right on time.
I pushed through the flap and maneuvered my way to the biped’s door. They always tried to keep me out, but this time I may have outsmarted them. I sat as still as the statues of the goddess I had been named for and tried out something I had been working on for a while. I hope it translated…
“Mehello? Mehello?”
Fabric rustled from behind the door. I heard unsteady steps heading the other direction. I raced to beat them there. I heard a sleepy mumble from the female.
“Did Pony say hello? Nah. That’s, that’s impossible.” I heard her pouring water, and her steps retreating back to the room.
I stationed myself by the door, waiting for whichever biped got up first. I would try again and again until they understood me. I can learn their mouth noises. It was working my mouth around them that is the difficult part.
The female was the first one up. I know she has a strict routine I cannot interrupt, although I try. She has strict rules for me too, like I’m not allowed to get on the counter. She gave me a side-eye as she worked at something up there. Finally she walked back to my room and put the wet food in my bowl.
“I don’t know what you’re up to… Where did you learn to say ‘Hello’?”
She sounded suspicious of my motives when all I wanted was to have them understand me. I have been so busy trying to communicate like the bipeds, I really haven’t had a chance to think about what my brother’s rule might mean for the cat-izens.
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