It was the Bast of times . . . it was the Purrst of times . . . . Their Royal Highnesses, the Princesses Ivory and Ebony Starmoon, were minding their own business, doing normal kitty things. Unfortunately, their Meowmie, and Lady-in-waiting, the Lady Mere, thinks that many normal kitty things are hilarious, and thus can regale you with the following short tails . . errrr tales.

SUPERCAT:

For the most part, the Lady Mere and the Princess Ivory agree on what constitutes suitable kitty care - good food, a warm place to sleep, occasional grooming, and a good hiding place from that dratted kitten (should the need arise) are more or less all that a Royal Cat needs to stay content. Unfortunately, there is one small subject on which the Lady Mere and Her Highness disagree - the subject of the OUT, or, to be more specific, the necessity of going into it. Now, the Lady Mere has strong views on the OUT (which she will not be dissuaded from). She feels that the OUT can be a good thing for cats - it provides exercise, fresh air, release from boredom, and the chance to act as God intended cats to act. However, the Lady Mere also believes that access to the OUT should be regulated by common sense. Say the OUT was near a busy road - well, now, that would not be a good place for a kitty at all. Or maybe the OUT was full of coyotes or other kitty-munching predators. That would not be a good thing either.

As luck would have it, the OUT surrounding the abode of the Lady Mere and her two princesses is relatively safe - not near a busy road, no coyotes, snakes, or free roaming dogs in evidence - and she believes the benefits of going into the OUT outweighs the risks (the Lady Mere knows of no cats in the immediate vicinity that has met an untimely end by venturing into the OUT - her next-door neighbour's indoor/outdoor cats were seventeen when they passed peacefully away at home). So, the Lady Mere thinks that venturing into the OUT would be a good thing for her princesses. But here we begin to get disagreement between the gracious lady and her royal Charge. The Lady Mere thinks the OUT should be experienced during the daytime only, while the Princess Ivory can't think of anything more heinous - obviously, the dead of night is the only time to go OUT.

Being a peaceful sort, the Lady Mere has settled on a compromise - the Princess Ivory is allowed to go out at dusk, after the neighbourhood has settled down from the coming-home-from-work-rush, but before it is pitch black and time for bed. Her Highness is allowed to stay out for a couple of hours, but must come back in by the time the Lady Mere is ready to go to bed.

For the most part, this system works well - Her Highness goes and frolics amongst the bushes, stalks some of the neighbourhood cats (all neutered and housed - we have surprisingly few strays around here), torments the neighbour's Siberian huskies who can't get her through the six-foot fence, then comes inside to chew on the kitten before retiring to bed.

Occasionally, however, the Princess Ivory's mischievous streak overwhelms her sense of proprietary and etiquette, and instead of coming inside when requested to do so, as a proper gracious lady would, she decides that some game playing is in order. The Lady Mere calls for Her Highness, and, as usual, the Princess comes barrelling . . er . . . daintily walking . . up the path, bounds up the front steps, places a delicate paw on the threshold as the Lady Mere waits with indrawn breath . . then pelts hell-for-leather back down the steps as fast as she can go. Nothing can convince Her Highness to come inside; not the Lady Mere's soft entreaties, nor the shaking of the coveted kibble container. Nothing. Should the Lady Mere attempt to follow the Princess, and have the gall to dare to attempt to lay hands on Her Highness' elegant furry body, the Princess Ivory darts away, staying always just frustratingly out of reach, and, knowing how it upsets the Lady Mere, moves ever further up the front yard, closer to the forbidden Street.

On this particular night, the above scenario was being enacted with almost tiresome predictability. The Princess was sat at the corner of the house, rubbing her cheek against the rough cast before darting off into the garden bushes. The Lady Mere was about to give up in despair and try the "If I shut the door and ignore her she'll think I'm going to leave her out all night and scratch to be let in" tactic. Before the Lady Mere could retreat, a sudden burst of . . what shall we call it . . insanity? courage? adventure? washed over the Princess in an irresistible wave. The Princess Ivory suddenly found that she was invincible! That six foot fence shutting those huskies in? Not a problem! Hell, lets jump it! The Princess takes a running jump, her furry pantaloons (what my family and I call the long fur surrounding her backside area) fluttering in the breeze like a superhero's cape, her rotund belly wobbling for all it's worth, the wind in her furs . . she leaps, she scrabbles, . . it's a bird . . it's a plane . . no, it's SUPERCAT! . .she she she . . makes it half way up the fence (about three foot - just at the join between the normal fence palings and the trellis work that makes up the top three foot). Her front claws dig in, her back claws scrabble for purchase, she struggles, she heaves . . she falls backwards and is left hanging by her front claws from the fence, the rest of her spread-eagled vertically. FLATCAT. She refuses to let go . . .

The Lady Mere can't help it . . she doubles over in hysterical laughter and falls against the side of the house, tears running down her cheeks, her guffaws echoing throughout the quiet night-time neighbourhood. The Princess Ivory, her pride hurt further by her handmaiden's undignified and uncalled for amusement slithers pathetically to the ground and lands in the damp, weedfilled dirt of an unkempt garden. She slinks off unnoticed, while the Lady Mere, blinded by her tears of laughter, rolls around the front door step trying to catch her breath.

Needless to say, the Lady Mere did not see the Princess Ivory for another hour or so, and had an extremely difficult time getting her inside the house that night - in fact, it took the intervention of the Queen Mother and the extra special treat bag to coax her inside. Supercat indeed - super insulted more like!

Copyright © Maryrose Lockerbie
January 15, 2000