A Devil for Tea

"Do you like milk in your tea, my friend?" Baxter asked through the big open door.

Chester starred blankly at the red squirrel casually standing on its hind legs next to a kitchen bar. Spindly fingers grasped a comically large tea pot, tipping it over into an equally proportionally large cup. Baxter had to get help from the neighborhood to find such a set for this very unusual meeting. The normal sized dishes was nothing but a drop to the orange tabby.

"The day you stop enjoying a nice acorn fresh from the tree is the day I give up milk. And looking at your stores, it is not this day," Chester said. Baxter skittered a laugh, already knowing the answer. Chester was a cat through and through. The cats' love of dairy was not a secret, much like a nut to a squirrel.

Baxter attempted to move the cup closer to the cold box and after near spill, thought better of it. He scampered over to the cold box door and pulled it open. With both paws, he grabbed a thimble sized container of milk and did his best to pour the liquid into the cup of hot tea.

The kitchen area was big, with a high ceiling but was just a little too snug for Chester. The hovel in the tree stump was an amazing find in this neighborhood. Some human must have had crafted it, catering to all the needs of a squirrel. This was a fairly wooded area far enough away from the human houses, secluded. However a network of trees to get everywhere made it ideal. Why anyone larger than a cat came out there was a buried secret. Thanks to it, Baxter lived an easy life.

Chester rested outside, sitting on his hunches, elegant body in a practiced pose. It's the kind the humans went ga-ga over on their social media. Chester was always ready to have the cameras take his good side. He hate to say he was bred for such occasions. It really was true. Even the dirt in his fur coat gave him character. Giving him sapience. That was a word he once heard a white haired human with glasses and a brown jacket say. It sounded important.

Chester lowered his head to the ground, focused his green eyes in towards Baxter's home, his nose filling with the aroma of the tea and milk being prepared for him. "Tell me, daredevil, why are you inviting me to your home?" Chester said.

Baxter carefully brought the large cup outside, the liquid on the inside escaping with slopping noise on every other step. One doesn't see a squirrel walking on its hind legs very often. A squirrel carrying an oversized cup wouldn't ever be on a bingo card, either. Baxter carefully placed it down near the cat, the cool morning of the early fall making the steam assert itself.

"My friend, I understand you are organizing a get together...a-a-a workshop, a learning of sorts with your fellow friends of the ghetto." Baxter pattered off back to his kitchen, returning with a cup that better matched his proportions.

Chester lifted his head, nose sniffing the still warm liquid. His sensitive nose not smelling anything other than a strong acorn fragrance and milk overtones. He slipped his tongue in, lapping in his host's hospitality. He paused and sat upright again.

"Choice word for our home. Our shared slice of the world. And perhaps you are making a good point." Chester licked his nose, getting a wayward drop of tea.

"Yes, I am hosting a get together for my friends and family of the locality. On the twilight of the following two days. You knew this, of course."

"That many cats in a little area, my kind wouldn't stand a chance. A-a bloodbath that would be. Your meeting, is concerning all the same. You....your court is organizing a way to defend the bird feeders." He took a sip of his plain acorn tea, seeped just the right amount of time. "That...you know...this year was not a bountiful year."

Chester shifted his eyes to his upper right where a pair of goldfinches settled down upon a branch high up in the canopy of the trees. They twittered out a harmonious duet. His tongue made a second appearance, licking his snout.

"I have heard that. The chatter out in the world and many hot suns has even given me problems this year. But," Chester paused, stood up on his four legs and jumped up to the top of the tree stump, the roof of the decadent apartment. Baxter's eyes followed the cat up to the top of the roof. The cat lowered himself down, rolling on his side, his head dangling off the edge.

"But?"

"Let me be straight with you, squirrel." He waved his tail back and forth through the debris on the roof. "The hunters inside of us, also have been struggling. My own clan, my family, has suffered. Too. The bird feeders are a convenient...incentive. But you must know, your presences at the feeders scare away the food."

"Your indoor cousins must be so v-v-very jealous of your hunts."

The tattered triangle ears flattened out.

"My cousins live the good life." He pushed himself back up and jumped back down to the dirt below, a shower of twigs, leaves, and a pill bug went up. Not stopping, the cat lunged forward, coming up short directly in front of Baxter, bearing his yellow incisors which has seen the insides of more than enough rodents and other lesser creatures. Baxter has it on good authority, witnessing one too many comrades.

"The bird feeders. Leave. Them. Be." Chester growled, more like a roar that only his miniature voice could produce. The smell of its breath wafting out, taking the form of a long dried cesspool. The squirrel held his ground, staring into the glowing, slitted eyes. Baxter held his cup as still as he could. They called him a daredevil not because of the incredible tricks, the impressive feats of thievery over the humans ineffectual obstacle courses placed in front of the bird-feeders. No. Because when the devil came around, they dared not stay.

"Friend, there are more than e-e-enough feeders to go around. And the mole court had ruled such."

With the fear tactic failed, Chester pulled back and sat upright again, his tail swinging back and forth, angling his face away. "The moles do not know our plight. They are already fed through the winter. Slugs. Fungus. They are blind to more than the above ground."

"That may be. But the rulings from those who are blind still s-s-stand." The squirrel resumed the drinking. It would be a shame to waste such a choice beverage this late in the season. "For this cold time, our differences must be put aside. For the k-k-kits."

Being an outdoor cat, Chester has gotten around, and had enough tail for all his nine lives. The kittens he may have, he'll never know the numbers. He scoffed at the idea. He bent down to lick a paw, then pulled it over his ears.

"Have you tried eating them? I would bet they are so very tender."

In an instant, the calmness of the forest left and the red squirrel with its red bushy tail and red tufts of hair over its ears, exploded with fury at the cat. A red blur launched like a missile into the air with a chittering thunder, claws extended and teeth bared. Chester yelped. But with years of practiced escapes, the orange tabby dodged the attack. His powerful back legs vaulted him straight up, just clearing the rodent. The cat twisted around, facing his prey as he landed.

"There's the daredevil I've been wanting to see!" the cat said with a big grin.

Baxter spun and crouched low to the forest floor, his eyes sticking to the cat like tree sap. The devil squeezed his heart to a full fire. He stayed motionless except for the heaving of his chest. The countless passed of his brethren breathed with him, steam bellowed from his nose.

"Cat...you have personally taken many. Too many. I advise you to rethink your future."

"With the amount I have taken, you certainly don't have an army to make me rethink my future. But you do seem to like a challenge. Maybe we will meet your militia in two days? Won't that be an epic the songbirds will sing about for ages!" Chester sprung up and trotted away. At the edge of the brush, he stopped and twisted his head behind.

"Until we eat them that is," he goaded. The cat then disappeared into the bush.

Baxter dropped down, his heart still filled with fire. He accidentally played into the cat's mind. It was a mistake. This life perhaps had made him dull. There certainly won't be a militia for any kind of skirmish in two days. Or ever. And there won't need to be one. So maybe not too dull.

A pair of goldfinches landed near him and hopped over. Baxter slowly stood up. He could feel the devil finally leaving, his composure returning. The years of drinking acorn tea has been beneficial this day.

"I hope you b-b-both saw that. It went as I thought it would. Go with the plan." The birds bobbed their feathered heads and flew away. Baxter watched as they left. The morning sun began to fill the blue sky. It was a lovely day.

He scampered back to his tea cup. The precious tea lay spilled on the ground. And worse, the larger cup was a total waste. It was easily a few weeks supply he had made up for that cat. If this was any other day, he would be furious at the waste. He spent most of the previous day getting it ready. Today? It was worth the price. He dragged the cup away from his hovel to where some briar grew, then kicked it over, spilling the putrid mixture.

A day passed. There was a knock at the door. Baxter ears twitched at the familiar cadence. The afternoon light was dipping below the tree line, the blue sky turning dark but the shadow of his visitor was clear through the curtain over the window on the door. He put his cup of tea back down and went over to the door. Outside, a crow was bounding from foot to foot, a little too excited, even for crow standards.

"Tell me, friend, what did you see?"

 "The humans with cages, they came. They came! The cat was wise but the humans found the cat! Found the cat!" The bird extended out its wings, giving it a flap, then pulling them back in. "They drove away! Away!" The crow cawed out.

Baxter sat at the doorway. The news that the next cold will not take any of his kin from him washed over him. Now was not the time to rest. Now was the time to take what was theirs.

"Friend crow, s-s-send word out. Begin the harvest. With m-m-minimal support." The crow unfurled its wings and leapt into the air, its caws reverberating through the tree tops.