CATS: first chapter

You know how some humans think other humans are crazy because they’re obsessed with cats? Well, some cats think other cats are crazy because they’re obsessed with watching humans.
Humans fascinate me. They’re so weird. I mean, why build a humongous city and cram so many people into it when there’s so much space out in the country? The only reason that I lived in the city was because of my sister Maple. She was a city cat. And, okay, I’ll admit it. I was a city cat, too.
My name’s Aspen, like the tree. An aspen tree. That was because my mother lived in a hollow underneath an aspen tree for a while. She was born there. My sister and I were born under a maple tree, so my sister, the firstborn, was named Maple.
My mother’s name was Mouse. Don’t laugh if you value your life. Her mother named her, and it was not her fault that she had such an embarrassing name. Shut up.
I lived in an old, broken-down building in an old, broken-down neighborhood. It was a nice place. Kind of. Lots of other cats lived in the neighborhood. The leader of us all was called Cloudy Day. She was light gray, and her eyes were a hard-but-see-through yellow. She was my best friend, besides Maple.

“Mommy, that pretty kitty just killed a squirrel!”
I peered down from the tree that I was perched on and hissed in disapproval. I’d thought that no one would be at this remote corner of Central Park this time of night, but there was a little girl, maybe five years old, staring up at me with wide eyes.
“Stay away from it, Maggie! It might have fleas!” the mother exclaimed, putting down the hand-held mirror she had been looking at.
Fleas. Yuck. I did not have any nasty fleas. My bright orange tail twitched. How dare this human say that I have fleas? Well, she could be saying a lot worse, but I hadn’t had fleas for almost two months now. Not a single one.
“I’ll call Animal Control,” the mother went on. “They’ll come and take care of it. Oh, my, think of the dangers of wild flea-ridden cats in Central Park. We might have the Black Death start again!”
Hey, Mrs. Paranoid, (a) you worry way too much and (b) I do not have fleas so please leave now because I’m trying to (c) enjoy my dinner.
Disgusted, I picked up my squirrel and leaped down from the tree. The Black Death? Get real. I bolted across Central Park and stopped at the road.
I’d learned by now that you had to wait for the crosswalk light to come on to avoid getting squashed by a car. On cue, the light flashed on. I threaded my way through the forest of legs and dashed to the abandoned neighborhood.
“Hi, Aspen.”
I turned around, dropping my squirrel. That wasn’t Cloudy Day’s voice, or Maple’s, or really any other voice that I’d been expecting to hear.
What is Firecracker doing here?
“Firecracker! I thought that you were going to live out of the city!”
“I came back,” Firecracker said, her eyes sparkling. “I missed you guys.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
Maple slid out from the house where we lived. “She came back around an hour ago, Aspen. Where were you?”
I rolled my eyes. Bossy, know-it-all, sticks-her-nose-into-everything Maple. “I was at Central Park, hunting for this.” I prodded the squirrel with my white paw.
“And that took you an hour? You were watching humans, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I growled. “You got a problem with that? Just because I know more than you about humans doesn’t mean that you have to-”
“Cool it, Aspen. Maple, shut up,” Cloudy Day commanded, coming up behind us. She turned to Firecracker. “They bounce off each other all the time. They’ll be best friends again in a minute.”
“Always have, always will,” Firecracker purred.
Already I felt my brief flash of temper fading. I looked over at Maple and saw her arguing face vanish and her normal face appear.
“I’m sorry, Maple. I overreacted,” I apologized.
“And I’m sorry for bringing up the subject when I knew that it would make you mad.”
That was probably the best apology I was going to get out of Maple. The dark brown cat hated apologies, whether she was giving them or receiving them. Neither of us was very emotional. That is, we were pretty emotional, but we kept our feelings bottled up tight, very tight, so that they only leaked every once and a while…
I grabbed my squirrel and headed toward my home. All I wanted was to eat my stupid squirrel, and then get to bed.
The broken-down building was rather small. It had only three rooms. Well, once it had had four, but a wall had crumbled to dust. My room was on the east side. I had filled it with human things from the streets and the dump. Torn-up blanket scraps, bottle caps, shiny beads, rubber bands, and some twisted pieces of glittering copper were piled up. Maple didn’t collect anything except scraps of blankets and cloth to make a nice bed. Her room was clean and proper- and boring and depressing, from my point of view. She didn’t even have a window in her room, for goodness sakes!
I devoured my squirrel in huge gulps, climbed onto my favorite cushion (I’d found it in the house when we came), curled up into a ball, and slept.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”
Maple was never an early riser. If she had her way, she’d sleep until noon. But what’s the point of wasting the day away by sleeping?
Maple yawned and lifted her head. “What is it, Aspen?”
“Another day,” I told her. “Get up and face it.” That was Cloudy’s saying.
She muttered something that I couldn’t hear and got to her paws, stumbling after me as I led the way into the third room.
The third room was a mess, but it was safe from people, so we didn’t mind. I pounced on a mouse that should have known better than to stray into a building that smelled like cats. I’d already eaten, so I offered my catch to Maple. She grabbed it and ate it so fast that if I’d blinked I wouldn’t have seen it.
I slipped out of my home and ran out of the neighborhood. It was a nice day. Only a few puffy white clouds littered the endless blue sky. This was one of the few days that you could see the sky, and I savored it.
“Oh, my, look at that cat. I’ve never seen a cat with such bright orange fur.”
I spun around and saw a tall woman leaning over me. Her face was inches from my nose. Ahhh!!!! You are popping my personal bubble! Go away!
I backed away, stopping when my hind paw touched the street. I could feel the wind as the cars whistled past. What part of ‘go away’ is too hard for you to understand, lady?
“You shouldn’t be on the streets, kitty,” she said. “You should be at Animal Control.”
Again with Animal Control! Ugh! I hissed at her and took off running. I wove my way through people’s legs and dashed across the busy street without waiting for the crosswalk light to go on. I almost got creamed by a car.
That was one of the many side effects of watching humans; they seemed compelled to catch you and stick you in Animal Control. Would they like it if cats went around capturing them and putting them in cages? No.
I made my way unnoticed to Central Park and clawed my way into a tree. My eyes surveyed the people passing by; a lady pushing a stroller with a crying baby inside, two kids whining to their parents about ice cream, a lady dancing to her iPod, a tall man talking on his cell phone.
I angled my ears toward the sound of something moving around in the bushes, hoping for a squirrel. A dog burst out, yapping, and a short man sitting on a bench gave chase. My whiskers twitched in amusement- the toy poodle was faster than the guy.
“Aspen? Aspen!”
I looked down. Maple was standing at the roots of the tree, yowling up at me. The dog rushed towards her, and she scrambled into the tree after me.
“What?” I growled.
“I wanted to see what you found so fascinating about humans. Now I see that you’re just crazy.” Maple’s whiskers twitched in amusement.
“I appreciate you voicing your thoughts. So, sister, what’s up?