Black Cat Inc.

I sat perched on a garbage bin at dawn, minding my own business, when the garbage truck rolled up the street. 

“Ay, cat! Shoo!” a deep, male New Yorker accent boomed while kicking the bin, trying to upset my seat. I obliged. He needed to empty this receptacle and I had other places to be, anyways. Busy with his work, he gave me no other thought as I passed by him while crossing the street. He’d get food poisoning later. 

You would think more humans would express more gratitude towards us. Things were just fine until we started getting associated with witchcraft and evil, then killed or banned from their societies. They paid for that scorn with the plague. Sure, we minimized the rodent population responsible for transmitting it at one point, but ultimately, the feline legions employed by Black Cat Inc. dispense karma according to humankind’s responses to us, we’ve done so for centuries. 

My next stop is across town at a school bus stop, where gathered are a group of bored, sleepy schoolchildren, waiting for their transport. Their faces brighten as I approach. They bend or kneel down to pet me when I’m close enough and I reciprocate the affection. Some give me a little chicken and cheese from their lunches. Yum! The bus pulls up for them and they depart in better spirits. Add to that passing grades in whatever tests or homework they have today

The feline legions dedicate all their nine lives to the luck business with Black Cat Inc., aiming to influence all of mankind on a personal level. Each life can be spent working in different parts of the world and if one is a hard-working cat all their lives, they can be restored to god status at the end. 

I climb a fire escape and then onto the roof of a nearby building to decide where I’ll go next. For the ones eager to apply themselves, like me, there’s always something to do, and the work is always interesting, especially in the big cities. The only problem is deciding the particulars like what and where. I run into a fellow legionnaire who is surveying the dominion as well. He was bathing himself.

“Hello, am I interrupting?”

“Not at all!” He answered. “Just finishing up! I spent the last few weeks working the harbor. Its a time staying clean when you’re out on the boats but all the fish you could want with the right favor.”

“Children are often pretty nice too. Some just gave me some chicken and cheese...where else have you been?” I asked after a brief lull. 

“Before the boats, I kept a fire department company and worked at a casino. What about you?” 

“I watched over a couple bars last night and cursed the garbage man this morning. How many lives are you on?” 

“I’m on my fifth. What about you?”

“My third...know your next move yet?”

“I may go see what’s across the bridge. You?”

“I’ve always been curious about the park,”

“The shelters are nearby the park. Mind you don’t get caught.”

“Thanks for the tip. Good luck!”

“You too,” We parted ways. 

My presence was tolerated at best on my trek to the park. For the most part, people were well into their day at this time. The park seemed heavenly with its lush fields of grass and its numerous trees and ponds. I’m suddenly thinking about fish so I approach an older man at a fishing spot. I rub against his lawn chair, and then his leg, silently drawing his attention for a moment. He’s not bothered. In fact, he puts his hand down to give me a stroke before regripping his fishing rod and focusing on the water. Pleased with him, he was happily reeling in a fish a few moments later. I continue to the edge of the pond and stick in my paw as if to fish myself. 

After a little bit, I realized my chances might be better elsewhere, so I stalked further up the edge of the pond, eyeing a good target. I’m locked onto one, about to reach out, when I feel my tail grasped. My flight instincts taking over, I dart into the nearby bushes. Looking back out, I see a small child landing on its bottom, a child smaller than the bus stop children. A woman who was likely the child’s mother come to its aid. 

“Come away from the pond, honey,” She said to the smaller human while picking it up, “You scared the kitty away. We pet the kitty. We don’t pull its tail.” 

I found myself in a hard situation. The karma decision is easy if it were any other human but I don’t encounter many humans this small on a regular basis. It's as if it didn’t know any better. I watch the mother pack her child in a stroller and push away. That seemed like the end of it. Now I gotta find lunch all over again, hopefully uninterrupted this time. 

 As I’m watching the water again, I’m picked up by the scruff this time, placed in a crate, and transported somewhere, likely to one of the nearby shelters. In my quest for fish, I had forgotten the legionnaire's warning. I cry for help the whole way and indeed ended up in a crate a little bigger than my prison, that looked out on other felines in similar set-ups. I bathed myself to calm down after the racket that brought me here and surveyed the space. At least it was roomy and had the important comforts: food, water, bedding, and toileting. Metallic gates fenced us all in. The other cats were not as vigilant or wary as me, as if used to this situation. This was the last place a devoted Black Cat Inc. feline wanted to be. Shelter life and sometimes even domestic life were not conducive to the legion's goals. These kinds of lives would make us lazy.

Many of the shelter cats perked up when someone entered the room. Either our crates were getting attention or a human may have been interested in adopting someone. Sure enough, walking in this time were the mother and child from earlier. They perused the other cats for a few moments, the mother and shelter worker intent in their discussion. 

“Ki-y!” The small child calls out, pointing right at me, drawing the mother’s attention as well. 

“Yeah, kitties,” the mother acknowledged before they continued looking over some more. The child didn’t respond to any others like it did to me. They circled back around and again, the child pointed and shouted, “Ki-y!” It seemed drawn to me. 

“I suppose we want this one!” The mother told the shelter worker who started to make it happen. I hadn’t met any domesticated legionnaires. I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage working hard while living with a family. In a house. Away from the city. My godlike status was starting to seem further than six lives away now. 

I was let out into an open play area with the little human. I was fearing for my tail too after my last encounter with it. The little human toddled towards me, its mother not far behind. 

“Remember, pet the kitty,” she told her child, guiding its hand. Next thing I knew, I felt a gentle pat of a little hand on my back. Then a few more. They felt nice. 

“Pet ki-y!” The child cried, sounding proud. Then the child picked up and tossed a bell ball, giggling and shrieking as I instinctively chased it. Hearing both the toy and the child felt refreshing. It felt like I was giving something more than luck; it was...joy! This little human didn’t care that I was a black cat with a reputation that often proceeded me. It was just happy to be around me, and I was starting to enjoy it myself. Is this what domesticity would be like? Would joy count for much in the long run? This is something I want to live for, whatever comes with my standing in the Black Cat Inc. legions.