Cats of The West - Escaping the Heatwave

(Author’s Note: This story is dedicated to my grandparents and their wonderful cast of outside cats: Knight, Farm Cat, Sentinel Cat (my grandma’s favorite), Top Rail Cat, and Mountain Cat (who really does love sitting on the manure pile!) I also want to shout out a quick thank you to my grandpa, who deftly named all five of these cats. Thank you! And to my grandma, who wrote me a detailed list containing the names and descriptions of them, I also want to say thank you—it allowed me to write with ease! Thank you!)

Knight sat inflexibly, determined as ever.

Farm Cat sat beside him, her eyes closed as she savored Wyoming’s deadly heat.

Cotton trees swayed above them, shedding fluffy debris that accumulated like snow. Craggy, bulging mountains rose behind stretches of verdant plains, their bodies like ocean waves frozen in time, appearing blue on the distant horizon. It was an ancient land, one which the who-mans called Bighorn Basin.

“Close your eyes, Knight,” urged Farm Cat. “Feel the sun… warm… your pelt…” She opened her mouth and yawned, displaying every tooth in her mouth. Knight smelled the deserted tuna cans she favored.

“Ugh! The sun is killing me, Farm Cat,” he said, refusing to glance at her. “At least your fur has some white spots, whereas mine, according to you, is far more absorbent. Like I said—I’m going to find the clippers if it’s the last thing I do. The who-mans are keeping them captive.” Knight fixed his eyes on a wooden house, whose property was one of his favorite haunts.

“Shaving your fur will only worsen it,” Farm Cat argued. “Your skin will be in direct contact with the sun, resulting in actual burns. Right now, you’re merely experiencing the heat collected by your fur—trust me, I’ve done many tests with black objects; it’s absorptive—”

“Yes, very nice, Smarty Paws. Off you go.”

“I’m serious. There are better ways to cool yourself.”

Knight groaned. “Just think about it, Farm Cat—our whole Colony, buried neck-deep in the mud with no fuzz to clean afterward. It would be paradise; we’d all fall asleep under the stars, dreaming of nothing more. As the Colony leader, this is my sworn duty.”

“To sleep in the mud?”

“No, serving my Colony! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some clippers to nab.”

“Okay, and I suppose you have a plan? How will you get inside the house?”

Knight puffed out his chest. “By getting inside, of course,” he said.

Farm Cat began licking her claws. “Good plan,” she said dryly. “Here’s a better one: why don’t we seek out another Colony? We need more ideas than this one. It feels a little far-fetched, and besides, by expanding our Colony, we’ll also expand our resources.”

“Fetch is for dogs, Farm Cat, and need I remind you that Colonies do not mix!? It results in brash behavior. Do you remember Josiah?”

“Yeah…”

“And do you remember why we invited him?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you wanted to learn wolf combat.”

“Not me—we. Josiah denied our invitation!”

“He had kittens and a wife named Ruth. Rumor also says that Josiah was rescuing cats on feline Deathrow. Obviously, he was short on free time.”

“Yeah, but I wanted…” Knight paused abruptly and cleared his throat. “I mean, we, as in the Colony, wanted to learn wolf combat.”

“Of course, my selfless leader,” said Farm Cat, grinning cheekily.

With an irritated mew, Knight faced her. “Look, my mind is made up. I’m always gonna do what’s best for my Colony, and right now, that is obtaining the clippers. Mountain Cat, Top Rail Cat, and Sentinel Cat all consented to this by vote. You’re the odd man out.”

“I’m a cat, Knight.”

“More or less.”

“Definitely less.”

“Look, I don’t want to fight about it,” Knight said with an air of finality. “I’m the leader, and this is my plan. End of story.”

Farm Cat pursed her furry lips. “Fine, then we’ll vote again on the matter.” She spun and padded off. “Round up the cats and meet me by the manure pile. I’ll be waiting with Mountain Cat, so don’t dawdle.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” stammered Knight. “Farm Cat—”

“I didn’t get to attend your aforementioned ‘vote,’” she said, giving him an accusing glance. “I simply want to voice my opinion.”

“Alright, fine, I lied about the vote! Happy now!? Farm Cat? FARM CAT!?”

Minutes of utter regret passed, during which Knight lamented his decision to lie about the vote. How does she always find a loophole!? I should’ve just kept my thoughts to myself! Well, if I had, I’d be having a mental conversation with myself, which is what I’m doing right now…. See!? I should’ve kept my maw shut and let Farm Cat fall asleep. She was going to—but I had to mess it all up! Now I have to—

“Knight?”

Knight was yanked from his thoughts and back to the circle of cats. To his left was Top Rail Cat, an energetic feline dressed in white, brown, and black; his love for adrenaline kept a purr in his throat. To the right was Sentinel Cat, sitting formally with his dark paws tucked beneath him; he could never forsake proper etiquette. Then there was Mountain Cat, the only one in the Colony to break the circle. He sat on the manure pile they had gathered by, his brown snout aimed at the sun.

“What?” Knight asked Farm Cat.

“You were staring off.”

“Okay, okay, you two,” said Mountain Cat. “Since you’ve all chosen to vote at my mountain, that means I am your honorary judge. Yes, perhaps Knight is the Colony leader, but me and my subjects—the flies—agree that in the presence of this mountain, I’m in charge.”

“Yes, we know,” the cats said in unison.

Mountain Cat settled deeper into the manure, a content smile splitting his maw. “Good, good, good. Now, how shall we begin?” A large black fly zoomed by his head, and his ear twitched. “Ah, great idea, Jimothy! Everyone raise their paws!”

Each cat put a paw in the air, claws ejecting with the strain. Mountain Cat squinted, confused. “Whoa… well, looks like we’re all in agreement.”

Farm Cat grumbled. “You didn’t give us any choice. There is more than one party here, you know.”

“No way! Two parties? Whose birthday is it!?”

“No. Different kind of party.”

“Two block parties?”

“There is no two!”

“So… one block party?”

“Mountain Cat, drop the block party!”

He checked his paws, panic flooding his countenance. “I don’t have a block party!”

Farm Cat squeezed her eyes shut and grumbled. “THERE IS NO PARTY!”

“WHAT!? It’s already canceled!?” Mountain Cat buried his head in the manure, and his muffled voice came from the heap. “Meeting adjourned….”

Farm Cat growled. “Mountain Cat, why are you such a…” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay, you know what? I’ll take care of this.” With a confident stride, Farm Cat walked to the center of the cats. All eyes abruptly went to her.

Sentinel Cat inclined his head to her, speaking in a low, rumbling tone. “Speak, she-cat, and we will listen.”

“Thank you, Sentinel.” She placed one paw forward and then circumnavigated the interior of the group’s circle. “For years, our Colony has lived in solitude, unwilling to part from our belief that Colonies cannot mix. However, in the midst of our days, a heatwave like no other has struck us, and we need help. Has any of you considered that this might be a miracle, that this is a calling to expand ourselves and join with another Colony?”

“No,” Knight mumbled, earning a glare from Farm Cat.

Top Rail stepped forward, his eye twitching madly. “You have my paw, F-F-F-Farm Cat.” He raised it in the air. “T-t-t-to expanding our C-C-C-Colony!” He leaped into the air, kicked his legs, and dashed off with a wild surge of energy.

Sentinel Cat gave a single, composed nod. “Aye.”

Mountain Cat, whose ears had been listening above the manure, popped up and smiled, his teeth smeared brown. “Count me in! Anything to escape this heatwave!” Flies suddenly buzzed around him in a frenzy, wriggling through his fur. “I know, Augustus, I’ll miss you too! Oh, and Gilfrid, of course! Goodbye, Camille!”

Farm Cat approached Knight, stifling her pride. She didn’t know what to expect from him, but it certainly wasn’t what she got. He gave her a ‘you’d better be right about this’ sort of look and shook his head, a smile hidden under the surface. “I’ll be a good sport, Farm Cat, but if this goes awry, you owe me three meals and a pair of clippers.”

“Fine, and you’ll owe me a fresh tuna can.”

* * *

It was a long time before the cats located another Colony. To evade the heat, they departed at sundown, traveling through the night and into the morning. As the sun peeked over the horizon, it cast all the who-man dwellings into silhouettes and spilled light over Wyoming. Knight had led them into a small, sparse neighborhood, its houses dotted along the uneven land and connected by a single pavement road.

Colonies didn’t favor subdivisions, and they rarely chose open country either. The former was too populated, and the latter was not populated enough. This habitat was flawless with its natural hiding spots and easily manipulated who-mans. Food and safety were never a concern for smart Colonies.

Mountain Cat gazed off out the mountains. “Ah, the Great Dung Piles…” he mused, paws silent on the asphalt road. “I shall sit atop you one day.”

Top Rail Cat was hyperventilating. “I’m w-w-w-walking t-t-t-too slow….”

“Stop!” commanded Knight. “Everybody stop!”

When they obeyed, Knight padded up the road himself. A thin shadow awaited him at the end of a driveway, its tail swishing irritably. Another cat! he thought, exhilarated to meet their journey’s end. Perhaps he knows of a nearby Colony!

“Fellow cat!” Knight said, his gait increasing to a run. “Fellow cat, we seek—”

“Another Colony?” the shadowy cat finished, causing Knight to stop. “I see, and I suppose you’re a bunch of strays looking for who-man servants? Sorry, I cannot help. Our who-mans are busy enough with us—try the neighbors. Good day.”

“Wait!” cried Knight, nearing the other cat. His features became more pronounced—this stranger was all black, splashed with occasional whites. His eyes were lime green, their glare emanating authority. “We’re simply looking for aid.”

“Very well, and how may I help?”

Farm Cat sidled up next to Knight. “We’re looking to escape the heatwave,” she said. “Do you have a place for us to stay? Perhaps some methods to cool off?”

The cat glanced between them, furrowing his brow. “I’m inclined to believe you’re thieves, seeking out my Colony’s provisions by playing innocent. We had a traitor recently, in fact, and so I must introduce you to my associates—that way, whatever plot you’ve stirred up will choke in the arms of accountability.”

“How’d you say something so gruesome in a voice so composed?” Mountain Cat breathed. “It’s like fury, placid, and terrifying have merged into a purely unique word, like… uh…”—he squinted his eyes—“turd.” He nodded to himself. “Yeah, sounds sweet.”

“Sounds gross,” the stranger replied, then turned and walked down the driveway. “My name is Clarke. Now follow me—the Colony is this way.”

“Okay…” said Mountain Cat. “Screwed that up, apparently.”

Top Rail Cat crouched and jumped, bouncing down the driveway and after Clarke, following the black cat like a furry spring. The others came shortly after, giving Top Rail Cat some space. Farm Cat walked abreast of Knight, smirking at his pinned ears and glowering face. “That cat permitted us,” he whispered to himself. “Impossible! He would never do that—clans DO NOT MIX! This is clearly a trap. Keep your A-game on, Farm Cat.”

“I think you’re just a little sore,” Farm Cat said, annoyingly patting him on the back. “Face it, Knight: I was right, and you were wrong.”

“Hey, we—”

“End of story,” Farm Cat interjected.

“Colony!” bellowed Clarke, his stride becoming slow. “We have some visitors, and they seek shelter!”

Farm Cat gazed at the who-man house as they passed it. Although large, it wasn’t nearly as wide as the building Clarke was heading towards. It was a massive barn, complete with a small entrance for cats—completely and utterly predator-proof.

At Clarke’s summon, cats flooded the area, standing beside their leader in a long line. Knight, Farm Cat, Top Rail Cat, Sentinel Cat, and Mountain Cat sat down, staring at the black cat’s minor assembly as it formed. Once both Colonies faced one another, the introductions began.

Clarke stepped forward. “First, I want you to meet Nala, the Head of Warm Welcomes.”

Nala, a blue Russian cat who hadn’t stopped fidgeting, joyfully leaped at Farm Cat and pinned her to the floor. “WELCOME TO OUR COLONY, FREIND!” she cried despite Farm Cat’s painstaking efforts to escape. “HOPE YOU’RE A HUGGER BECAUSE I AM!”

“Oh, yes!” Farm Cat said, forcing a smile as Nala nuzzled her. “Yes, great to see you. Can you let me up now?”

“DO YOU FEEL WELCOMED YET!?”

“I feel a little choked, actually!”

“A LITTLE? WE’D BETTER FIX THAT!”

Knight smirked and giggled, watching the whole affair play out. He endured a few seconds of peace before Nala welcomed him.

After Nala, the introductions went quickly. They met Gray, a timid, fluffy cat who couldn’t get a word out without backtracking. Then there was Tiny, an adorable calcio whose sarcasm could’ve killed a savage canine. Clarke turned his head, clearly expecting to see another cat. “Oh, wonderful,” he grumbled. “Has anyone seen Sim—”

“Heeeeeeeelp!” cried a desperate voice.

Farm Cat gazed up at its origin, surprised to see a golden tabby hanging from the barn’s roof. He was dangling by one paw. “Oh, no!” she breathed. “Who… who is that!? Why is he up there!?”

“Who? Simba?” Clarke gazed up at the tabby. “It’s alright. Just let him fall. He lives every time.”

Farm Cat’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”

Clarke looked offended. “I’m quite awful at telling jokes, Miss.”

Mountain Cat laughed. “Turd. Love it!”

Nala rolled her eyes. “Clarke’s always grim like that,” she said to Farm Cat, “but he’s not wrong. Up there is my brother, Simba. He’s always climbing rooves and falling off them. Says it’ll help him reach the big puffy food in the sky. Ridiculous, am I right? The big puffy food is way too high.”

“Why are we sitting here talking when a cat is in danger!?” Farm Cat dashed to the barn, fixating her eyes on the dangling tabby. “Simba!” she called. “If you can hear me, I’m going to try and help you! Just hold—”

Simba fell.

Farm Cat’s breath caught in her throat and instinct took over. She backpedaled, then ran and caught the screaming tabby in her arms. In reluctance to hurt him, she turned over, enduring the brunt of the fall. Hard rocks grated against her back, but her fur shielded most of her skin.

Simba scrambled out of her arms, gasping and apologizing. “I’m so sorry! You didn’t have to do that!” He immediately helped her up. “Oh, I feel terrible. I think you’re hurt. Ugh, I should never have climbed that roof today. Are you alright?”

“No, I’m fine,” said Farm Cat, stifling a wince. “It was the right thing to do.”

As Simba began to catch his breath, he met her eyes. Something happened then, something that made the tabby go stiff. “I… I fell… I fell, and I think…”

“Y-yes?” Farm Cat asked, slightly nervous.

“I fell in love,” he finished.

“Oh!” Farm Cat said. “That’s… great.”

“—with you.”

“Oh! That’s… less great.”

“I don’t think we’ve formally met,” said Simba, smiling wide. “So, let’s start over.” He sat, repositioning himself with proper posture. “Hi, my name is Simba, but all the neighbors call me Scram. I like seafood, fish, and sushi, and I appreciate a good scratch on the ears. I also pee on my stuff!”

Farm Cat blinked.

“Oh, was I too fast?”

“No, no,” hastened Farm Cat. She glanced at the others, who were absorbed in conversation. Then, deciding she had time, repeated Simba’s approach. “Um… I’m Farm Cat. Can’t say I have any nicknames, but Knight sometimes calls me Smarty Paws. I like tuna, which counts as seafood according to who-mans, and I hate being pet at all times. Oh! And I love love love the heat—it makes for an amazing nap.”

“Smarty Paws?” Simba asked. “You must be pretty smart to earn a title like that!”

Farm Cat shrugged, feeling slightly prided despite her resentment for the name. Not many cats understood her cleverness, let alone praised it. “I wouldn’t say smart,” she said modestly, “but I dabble a little in physics.”

Simba nodded, his head bobbing rapidly. “Yeah, I’m kinda smart too—A-frames-cook-outs-pinecones-Luke-Combs-equals-January-twenty-ith!”

Farm Cat cocked her head. “Do you… even know what you just said?”

Simba’s face fell. “No. I was hoping you did….”

Farm Cat was about to reply when Top Rail Cat screamed her name. “Hey! They’ve g-g-g-got a c-c-c-canal here! Come on, let’s see who p-p-p-passes out f-f-f-first underwater!”

She glanced apologetically at the tabby. “Sorry. I should probably make sure he survives this. It was good to meet you, though, Simba.”

Simba’s brows shot up. “Hang on… you’re not jumping in that canal, right?”

Farm Cat scrunched up her face. “H2 NO!” She paused, ashamed and embarrassed at using such a term before Simba. “I… I just mean… I don’t like water.”

Simba shrugged. “Guess we have something in common, Colony Leader.”

“Colony Leader?”

“That is what you are, right?”

“No, that’s Knight.”

“Oh, well, you act like a leader. Not a moment ago, I overheard Knight and Clarke. This whole Colony unity thing was your idea. It seemed like a leadership thing to do…. Hm.” He bobbed his shoulders and walked away. “Bye, Pretty Smart.”

Farm Cat snickered and rolled her eyes. “Pretty Smart,” she muttered to herself, but deep down, she felt flattered.

* * *

Knight sighed, his fur shining the evening light. “Clarke let us stay in the gutters,” he said. “And before you say it—yes, you were right.”

Farm Cat shrugged. “You put up a good fight.”

“Yeah, and you put up a better one.” Knight glanced at her, then sighed again. “Alright, I’ll grab a tuna can.”