The Bat and the Cat

Frowning inwardly, tail twitching, I watched as my owner walked in with yet another stray. Four was already too many, now there would be five of us? This lady was obsessed. She had to stop bringing home every sad, mewling sap she came across on her way home from work. Dumping a lunch bag, a purse, and her keys on the table, she began to pet and soothe the wide-eyed, fluff ball she held under one arm.

This cat's white fur had seen better days, and the lady set to work filling the sink with warm water and Dawn dish soap. The matted cat reeked of oil. Its ears were flattened against its head and it began to struggle as she lowered it into the sink.

“Now Snowball, let's calm down. You need to get cleaned up if you want to live here,” she chastised softly.

Snowball? Was she a 9-year-old school girl? Snowball. It was better than the name she had bestowed upon me, Mittens. I glanced down at my white paws, stark against my otherwise black fur. I could see why she named me Mittens, the only white fur I had was on all four of my paws, looking very much like I was wearing mittens. But it didn't mean I approved of the name. I refused to come when it was called and knocked over many glasses of water to show my distaste for it.

Snowball was scrubbed down and the smell of grease dissipated, replaced by the delicious aroma of tuna as the cat was rewarded for its good behavior with a freshly cracked can. She'd only scratched the lady once during the bath.

I mewed up at her from the table, reminding her that the rest of us had been good today as well. She opened another can and scooped some out into each of our bowls. I hissed at Leo, the tawny who had moved far too close to my bowl for my liking.

Snowball was set down next to the rest of us, and I ignored her inquisitive sniffs at my flank. She was not welcome here.

After lapping up my tuna, I crossed the tiny, studio apartment to the bed to watch the lady set about her nightly routine.

Now, this was by far the strangest thing I've ever seen a human do. I had once been owned as a kitten by a small girl, I've seen how normal people function, and this was not it.

Almost every night, this woman donned an entirely black, leather outfit that reflected the minimal light in the apartment in its sheen. She slipped on a mask, topped with two cat ears, then some vicious-looking gloves that ended in claws. She was careful when she pet us when these were on, they looked as sharp as my talons.

Stranger still, whenever she was dressed like one of us, she left out the window! She'd flit down the latter like a god dammed pigeon, landing in the alleyway.

It was downright embarrassing, seeing her dressed up as one of us. She was not a cat! What did she do out there?

A knock at the closed window yanked me from my thoughts. Who knocked at a window? How did someone even get up here? We were two stories up!

Then, I saw it. The second strangest thing I'd seen in my nine lives. It was a bat. But not just any bat, a man dressed like a bat. At first, I thought it was another idiot in a black cat costume like the lady's but no, this was clearly a bat. She opened the window and the bat idiot climbed inside. The cape he wore ended in various swoops so that it looked like bat wings when spread out. It lay across his shoulders as he folded his arms and demanded something from the lady.

The lady hissed before speaking. I jerked my head back, ears flattening, tail twitching. She had actually hissed. I swear to god if this guy starts squeaking like a bat I'm going to attack one of them. Snowball still sniffed at my rear and since I was trying to pay attention, I gave her a good wallop on the head, conveying the clear message to back off!

Snowball's ears fell against her head and her pupils dilated as she considered fighting back. I gave her a warning stare, crouching slightly, preparing to pounce if she so much as flinched wrong.

Snowball's tail flicked twice, and she padded away quickly. That's what I thought.

I turned my attention back to the cat lady and the bat guy as they began to grapple for something. It looked like a black stick with a piece of metal on the end. Something obviously meant for one of their screens. What was so dammed important about the screens? I've seen office buildings! People go to work and stare at their screens. They take a lunch break and stare at their small screens, then they come home and stare at the big screen for the rest of the night. Now I'll admit, occasionally the big screen held things of interest like birds, other cats, or dogs trapped within its mystical confines, but usually, it was just more stupid people.

The tussle turned into something else as the humans both stilled, wrapped in each other's arms. I stilled as well, knowing that this calm before the storm either meant one was about to walk away or pounce!

She pounced! Attacking his face with her teeth but wait, no, that wasn't right. Their lips met in one of those gross, saliva, human embraces. Did they go from fighting to this? What the hell was wrong with her? I'd had just about enough of whatever this was.

I leaped from the bed, screeching the most vicious-sounding meow I could muster, and launched myself at their faces. She moved, and I had to give her credit for her cat-like reflexes, but the bat was too slow. I felt my claws sink into flesh as I dragged my nails across his dumb, surprised face. I didn't look back as I ran from the room, expecting a kick at my rear, but was too quick for them! I ran under the couch, flipping around, still prepared for any retaliation.

The bumbling male touched his cheek with his black glove and pulled his hand away to look at the blood there. It wasn't bleeding much, but he winced at the sight. What a pussy.

The lady yelled at me then and led the bat to the bathroom to tend to his scratches. Maybe they would change out of their ridiculous costumes and realize that the only true animal here was me, and I was not to be toiled with.

But alas, they did not. I guess I had to accept that she would never stop pretending to be one of us. Once the man's face was too slowly, and too efficiently cleaned, way over the top for what the scratches were, almost like she was purposely taking longer than needed, they both left the way he'd come in. Out the window, the bat and the cat, like a bunch of morons.