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Of all the kennels in all the shelters in the world, he had to walk into mine.
You know the type: legs for days, knows how to scratch that spot under the chin. Smells a little like high-end kibble. The good stuff, shaped like little circles, not the triangle kind.
Right away he crouched down to get at eye level, spoke in a soft voice. A smart one. A nice one. He made a kissy sound: those big lips humans have are pretty ridiculous, but at least his eyes were a proper shape. I leaned into his outstretched fingers.
He’d do.
I went home with him, this acceptable human, to his acceptable apartment. I trained him in the ways of cat service: I taught him what foods I liked, how to brush my fur, and the necessity for a variety of toys to keep my hunting instincts sharp and my claws sharper.
It was a good life. Minseok was a good owner. Easily trainable, a soft touch when I rolled over onto my back or sat in front of my food dish and yowled because the bottom showed. He bought me a fuzzy bed that was nice when the afternoon sunbeams hit it, but seemed to think that I should use it even when there was no sunbeam and he was sitting on the nice, squishy sofa with his nice, comfy legs.
Even better were the nights. Minseok didn’t snore and didn’t move – perfect, as far as I was concerned. I could curl up against his hip and make sure he was safe from ghosts and spiders all night long. It was an important job. I was good at it.
Less good: my person was lonely.
A lot of humans aren’t good at being solitary. They aren’t like cats, who can mate and part, come together in groups to raise litters and part again. They like to have a mate of their own, the way a cat likes to have of person of their own, to depend on.
He spent too much time inside – good for me, what with the petting and the treats and Minseok’s excellent technique with that maddening catnip-scented fake mouse on a string. But he wasn’t going to find a mate that way. Humans need to make too much noise. They like to make noise together, and my meows weren’t going to cut it, no matter how beautiful they were.
I tried to show him how it was done. I stretched beguilingly against the front door until he opened it, then wandered up and down the hallway to show everyone the excellence of my fur, the length of my whiskers.
It’s like having a kitten. They don’t know this sort of thing instinctively. If only Minseok would try, he could show off his long legs and properly shaped eyes, and he would be courted by all sorts of humans, pick the best one for his mate.
He required a lot of demonstration, my Minseok.
I hated to think that perhaps he was a little dumb.
A pity. At least he had good skritching skills.
The humans he meowed with most lived close by. One of them was obviously a cat’s soul in a human body, so I liked him. Sadly, he was mated to the other human living in that den. I wove around all their ankles in a tangle one day, pointing out the obvious that if the moon-colored one liked semi-cats, he should also be Minseok’s mate, two semi-cats and one human together.
They didn’t get it. Seemed like all three of them might be a little dumb.
But no matter. Tan, long of fur and sharp of claw, would not be stymied by the inability of my human to see the obvious. He had bought me an entire basket full of toys to keep my hunting skills honed. I would hunt him a mate.
It was easy to do: Minseok liked to stay home, to make food, and to pat beautiful, soft things (me). He was only loud occasionally at the screen. So he needed a mate that was beautiful, soft, hungry, and a homebody.
I knew just the human.
Human faces are flat and strange, but mate-human smelled like honey, and he kept the fur on his head a little bit long for easy petting. Like Minseok, he had long legs. Unlike Minseok, his kitchen was filled with delivery containers that he sometimes made unhappy-kitten noises at.
Yes. This soft, long-legged human that needed feeding would be an excellent mate. He even slept a proper amount – sometimes even in a sunbeam, still and quiet.
To be honest, I miscalculated at first. When I stole the small piece of clothes from the mate-human, I hid it too well. I always forget that human noses are only decorative. It was many days before Minseok’s moon-colored friend found it under the screen-holder. They meowed at each other a lot, and the moon-colored one scratched in almost the right place on my head before Minseok put the clothes in a little bag for keeping.
The clothing looked lonely in that bag. Also, given that Minseok was so stupid about all this, I made sure to show him the next time: I took another piece of clothing and sat with it outside our door until Minseok came home.
His meow sounded unhappy and confused. My poor human, he was worse than a kitten before their eyes open. It was a mighty task.
But I am a mighty cat.
The mate-human saw me soon after. I could tell he understood when he didn’t try to stop me as I climbed down his balcony railing with a foot-covering in my mouth. Having a co-conspirator would ease the way. And he did: it was always easy to gain access to his home, and he frequently left small clothing items lying around on the floor for me to take to Minseok and show him that a beautiful, hungry mate was waiting not far away to be petted and fed.
I sharpened my claws to needles, climbing back and forth to mate-human’s home. I endured the way Minseok would meow at me as if unhappy about my gifts, then place them in his little bag.
I began to despair that he was beyond help, as the little bag filled with his mate’s clothes. Soon, there would be no small clothings left, and I would be forced to drag large body-coverings down the hallway.
My dignity as a cat was at stake.
And if my dignity were violated?
Well. Minseok had shoes, and every cat makes poop.
My revenge was never enacted, though I reserve the right to poop in mate-human’s shoes in the future, given what happened next.
I went for my daily clothing-hunt, as usual. Mate-human was home. It was afternoon, so I assumed he was asleep in a sunbeam.
Instead, he approached me when I chose a piece of clothing to take home. That was all right. If there was a special piece, I would take it to Minseok in the hope that he would finally understand.
The mate-human didn’t make friendly sounds at me and hand me a foot-covering, though. Instead he moved quickly, like a hunter, and made the door closed. I ran for cover, only for his hand to grasp me and pull, and I howled my unhappiness that he would treat me so when all I was trying to do was help him be petted and fed by my Minseok.
Once he had me in hand, though, the mate-human was gentle. He made low sounds, and held me so that I felt secure against falling. His hands were far larger than Minseok’s, and his fingers rubbed my belly softly enough that I didn’t want to bite.
The moon-colored human came in, and then: finally. Finally the mate-human was walking toward my home. Once the mate-human tried to put me down, but I grabbed so my prey wouldn’t escape. I knew Minseok would only have to see him to know how this human was as soft and hungry as I was, so he should take care of both of us.
Minseok was stubborn – he hesitated briefly. He did a terrible thing to my nose. But I jumped to the floor and wound around their legs together, to make them both smell like me, and they went to the little bag to meow at each other over mate-human’s small clothings.
They were still sniffing at each other with their sad, giant noses. But I could tell it would work. My nose, at least, could tell.
My job was done, just in time for the afternoon sunbeam.