Just a Little Old Cat Lady, Part II

by Jolene Dawe

A week later, Hero returned from his walkabout frantic. When Chelsea opened the door for him he simply sat down in the yard and yowled at her. Chelsea tossed on a pair of boots and approached him, worried that he had hurt himself. When she got near to him he backed up and sat down a few feet away. He repeated this until she realized she was to follow him and then he led her at a jog into the woods. She knew the moment she left her land. Something tingled across her skin, making her ill at ease. Hero led her half-a-mile into the woods, to natural shelter made from fallen trees and leaves. There, kept warm and dry in a pile of dead leaves and moss, lay three kittens. Chelsea dropped to her knees to get a better look at the babies.

Indecision tore at her. She couldn't leave them here, but what about their mother? She looked at Hero and found the cat at her shoulder, also peering in at the den. One of the kittens uncurled to raise his head. Blue eyes gazed at Hero, and then at Chelsea.

Chelsea removed her sweatshirt and plucked each kitten from the den. She wrapped them all in her warm shirt and hugged them against her. She followed Hero back through the woods to her house. Once inside she emptied a box, lined it with towels, and placed the kittens, shirt and all, into the box. She set them in her bedroom near the radiator and sat for a while, watching them.

Poor kittens, she thought, wondering again after their mother. It was a bad time of year to have kittens.

Picking up the phone, Chelsea dialed the vet's number. Joyce answered the phone and when Chelsea identified herself the other woman said, "Oh, I was wondering when we'd hear from you again."

Weird, Chelsea thought. "I seem to have adopted a few more strays," she told Joyce. "And I just found a litter of kittens in the woods, and I don't know where their mother is. I have no idea how to take care of baby cats. Should I bring them in?"

"Yes, absolutely. Dr. Thomas should see them. How old are they?"

"I don't know."

"Are their eyes open?"

"Yeah."

"Are they walking around at all?"

"No. Squirming a bit, but they seem content to stay put."

"Warm your car up a lot first, they need to stay warm, and then bring them on in."

"All right. We'll be there soon."

"See you then."

Dr. Thomas met her at the door half-an-hour later. "It's good that you found them when you did. Much more time in this weather and they would have died." He looked into their eyes and ears, and took their temperature. The kittens bore their first examination stoically. "They're slightly cold, but not in much danger. Put a hot water bottle with them and change it every few hours. I'll give them some fluid for the dehydration. They're walking well. I'd put them at around five weeks. We'll give you some kitten food. Just moisten it with warm water and see if they eat. If they don't, give us a call back tomorrow and we'll get you some formula. Keep them separate from the other cats in the meantime."

"So, you're staying at the house, then?" Joyce asked her as she wrote her check.

Chelsea's pen froze. "Pardon?"

Joyce blushed but didn't drop her eyes. "I mean, you're taking in Amelia's cats, aren't you? The black tom and the gingered cat? You said a few more had showed up. Let me guess. One's a calico with green eyes and the other is a long-haired tan cat, right? Those were her most daring cats. I'm guessing their mother," she nodded at the kittens, "was Ruthie, and if Ruthie abandoned them she's probably gone. Ruthie was the best mother you could ask for. That'll leave three others missing, that actually lived with Amelia. They come with the house. You're taking them in, so I'm assuming you're keeping the house?" Joyce seemed to have second thoughts. "I mean, she has come to see you, right?"

"The crazy woman with her ultimatums? You know her?"

"She's not crazy," Joyce said, "though I'm not sure what she is, really. But yes, I know her. Well, of her. I think I've seen her a few times. She looks after the cats around here. We have a lot of feral cats. You hear things about her. Not much. But Amelia used to talk about her as if they were old friends. People thought Amelia was out of her mind, but then, living alone with all those cats tends to make people wonder. I knew better, though. Known Amelia since I was little."

Chelsea didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I'm not giving up that house," she said through clenched teeth.

"All right," Joyce said. She handed her a copy of the bill. "Best get those guys back before night falls. Call, if you need anything else."

At home again, Chelsea set up the bedding as she was instructed, complete with hot water bottle and blankets. Making sure the other cats had everything they needed, she made a small bed for herself on the floor by the box and sat to watch the kittens.

Joyce's comments danced unbidden through her mind. Thinking about Joyce led Chelsea's thoughts to the cat woman, and that brought the annoyance back. And the fear. That Joyce knew about the woman lent her credence Chelsea didn't want to give her. That she had also known Amelia, and vouched for her sanity . . . Chelsea frowned. She had also pegged each and every cat now in Chelsea's home. If she was right and there were more waiting to be let in . . . .

Chelsea left the bedroom. She found Hero lounging on the couch. When he saw her he sat up, his ears pricking forward. This is insane, she thought. "Are there more?"

Hero chirped. His tail wagged once.

He can't possible understand, she thought. Outside, the wind howled, blowing so hard that it rattled the windows. "Do you know where they are?"

Hero jumped off the couch and trotted to the back door.

He'll die, she thought. He'll get caught in the storm and freeze to death.

"Bring them," she heard herself say, "and bring them fast. Don't you get lost out there, you hear me? Hurry back."

Snow and ice swirled into the kitchen when she opened the door, and the effort to close it once more left her panting.

Willingly releasing the remnants of her sanity, Chelsea sank to the floor. She clutched her hands together to calm their trembling. Within her chest her heart was pounding.

"A wise decision."

Chelsea jumped to her feet to face the intruder. Her mind recognized the voice a second later, but the recognition did nothing to calm her.

The cat woman stood before her, the same confusing blending of distorted images that made Chelsea's eyes water.

"I'm not doing it for you," Chelsea said.

"Of course not. You're doing it for them. And for you."

"I still think you are all crazy."

The woman nodded.

"I don't buy any of this gatekeeper crap."

The woman stepped closer. "That's not important right now. You have made your decision, have you not?"

"You know I have."

"You will stay here?"

"I will."

The woman lifted a hand-paw toward Chelsea. Chelsea flinched and took a step back. The woman's eyes met hers. "It must be completed," she said. "It will sting, but you are in no mortal danger from me. We are of a kind, you and I."

When the woman's hand-paw touched the center of Chelsea's chest, all the air in her lungs spilled out. Her head swam and her knees buckled. Chelsea wasn't aware of any of these things. She was pulled out from her body, tossed high and flung wide. She felt herself spread over the whole property that came with the house, and further, into the woods, down the road. Unclaimed property that she realized would never be claimed, that would always belong to her. She felt herself take the land into her being, knowing it, owning it, being owned by it. She could feel the gate she was to guard, a ripple in the land, shining brilliantly, sparkling without colors, at the very center of the land. Balance, stability, and health streamed from this gate. It wasn't hers to open, only to guard, to keep it from opening untimely. She didn't know where it opened to, and she didn't care. It was old, and powerful, and important. It needed to be kept, and she had decided she would keep it.

She felt the animals, nestled in their burrows and dens out of the storm's reach, and she saw Hero, making his way through the snow, black on dark grey. She knew, in an instant, where the other cats were, and saw the trap he was walking into. She saw the people by the trap, waiting with lethal thoughts in their minds. She felt their greed, their desires, knew their unholy schemes.

Chelsea slammed back into her body, her eyes wide, gasping for breath. "They're going to kill him!" She grabbed the woman and pulled herself up. "You knew!"

The woman took hold of Chelsea. "No, I didn't know. I'm not a god, Chelsea, I don't know and see everything! That's why I need people like you."

But Chelsea was past hearing. She pulled away and grabbed her coat. She ran, buttoning the coat up as she went, across the yard and into the woods. Hero's marks were already covered, but she didn't need them. She knew exactly where he was.

Halfway there she realized she should have stopped to grab a weapon. It was too late; she'd have to make do with what she had. What did she have? Panic danced along her nerves, but she shoved it aside. She didn't have time for that.

She spotted Hero, a dark smudge against the snow, preciously close to the trap. She knew he couldn't see it, that it was dumb luck that he hadn't triggered it yet, that he was searching for his family. Thinking of the other cats made Chelsea aware that the cat woman wasn't with her. She could feel her moving across the land, rescuing the others. Once that was done, Chelsea would have backup. In the meantime, she was on her own.

"Stop," she called out to the cat. Hero twitched and looked at her. "Let's go, Hero."

He saw the men a second before they moved. In a flash, he was between Chelsea and them, ears low, head down, teeth bared. Chelsea resisted the urge to step away from him. Gone was the sweet, affectionate cat she knew. Here he was a feral creature with death on the mind.

But he was no match for the men, and they all knew it.

"He's your cat?" one of the men asked.

It was a loaded question. Chelsea understood that. Still, she stood taller, stood straighter. "He is," she said.

The man nodded once. "Unfortunate. Most unfortunate."

She saw, then, that they hadn't set the trap just for the cat. One of the others behind the man lifted his arm toward her. Chelsea coiled to leap to safety, but paused, confused, when she found his hand empty. It wasn't until the knife slammed into her chest that she realized he'd never had a gun. The force of the stabbing sent her stumbling backward. She fell onto the snow as a black form leapt over her. She cried out and reached for Hero, wanting to keep him out of harm's way. Her fingers touched fur and she saw his amber eyes gazing down at her. In the distance, far away, she heard growls and screams. She was aware of the snow on her face, the icy coldness in her chest, and the fur under her fingers. For a long while that's all there was.

Then, burning liquid. Chelsea sputtered and gasped, and more of the foul stuff was shoved down her throat. She swallowed reflexively and tried to move. Hands held her still. A warm weight on her stomach, and the rumbling purr of a cat. Darkness found her, and then pain. Something stabbed her arm and then more darkness. It took this time, keeping her safe.

When she awoke the warm weight hand moved to her side. Chelsea opened her eyes and knew before she saw anything that the storm had passed. Around her the land was quiet and serene.

Hero sat by her side, snuggled as close as he could possibly get. On her bed with her were the other two cats she knew, and three more matching the descriptions Joyce had given her. Ginger was on the floor, curled up with the kittens. Curled around her was the cat woman, looking more cat than woman at the moment.

Chelsea struggled to sit up and hitched in a breath when pain stabbed her chest. She touched the bandage there and winced, feeling the stitches under the gauze.

"You're up."

Joyce appeared in the doorway, followed by Dr. Thomas. "How are you feeling?"

Chelsea sank back against her headboard. "Beat up. Did we win?"

The cat woman uncurled from around Ginger. Ginger looked up at Chelsea, gave a little cat noise, and lowered her head back to the kittens. "We won some time. And they know the house isn't empty, or occupied by some ignorant woman. But, they'll be back, at some point. There's not much they can do, so long as you stay here. This land is your fortress, and it will protect you as you protect it."

Chelsea sighed and closed her eyes. She stroked Hero and sat for some time. Then she remembered the streak of darkness leaping over her. She gasped. "There was another cat. A huge cat--did any of you see him?"

Joyce dropped her gaze. The vet brought his eyes to stare out the window. Only the cat woman met her eyes, and while her face was one of innocence, her own eyes were full of merriment. "I saw nothing," she said, "except you, when I arrived. They left you for dead and fled."

She was lying, Chelsea knew. Had it been her?

Chelsea decided she didn't care. "Thank you for helping," she said to Joyce and the vet.

"It's what we do." Joyce shrugged. "But that's enough of that. You need more rest. Danny? We should let her sleep."

"Right. I'm going to head into the office. Call, though, will you, if you need anything? And Joyce'll be over after hours to check on the kittens and bring you more formula. No charge."

Chelsea nodded. Her eyes were growing heavy again. On the floor, the cat woman was asleep again, nestled around Ginger. She had tons of questions, but they would have to wait. Healing came first, it seemed.

Curling onto her side, she breathed around the pain and let her worries go. Around her the cats shifted until they lined her body, keeping her safe, keeping her immobile. Her family, protecting her as they could.

It wasn't her plan, and it hadn't been what she wanted, but she was happy nonetheless. They gave her love and comfort. They looked after her. They cared for her. Her aunt had never been alone. Amelia hadn't been alone.

Chelsea smiled. Just a little old cat lady, indeed.