Princess the Cat Defeats the Emperor: Princess the Cat, #3

1

The oldest girl child unloads another massive scoop of Thanksgiving mashed potatoes onto her plate, and the big woman person declares to everybody else around the dinner table, "Your father had better not get another Charlie Brown Christmas tree

this

year

."

The big man person chews his turkey, probably planning how he will discover the perfect Christmas tree this winter.

Meow?

Max, the other cat I allow in my house, is begging like a dog for a few scraps of Thanksgiving dinner. I don’t deny that I look forward to turkey and stuffing later, but I need to leave for a rendezvous with

a

spy

.

I pass through my eating room and into my garage, and then I exit the door on the side of my garage into my front yard. My gray tabby fur bristles from the cold that descends upon my domain as I trot down Rover Boulevard towards Grand Canyon Drive. I have a secret meeting with a cat who rules a small domain along Grand Canyon Drive. He is my spy, and I only call him by his codename: Mozart.

I have not even told the Cat Council about Mozart to keep him safe, especially from the evil Emperor who threatens my territory.

The Emperor had been, for years, only a vague threat, somewhere in the far east of my town. More recently, I have received messages that he has been aggressively expanding his territory. Some animals have fled west as refugees, bringing tales of terror of what a cruel tyrant the Emperor is. Other than that, I know nothing about this Emperor.

I reach a tree on Grand Canyon Drive without incident. All the people in houses as I pass by are feasting on a Thanksgiving meal, the children anxiously plotting what they will implore from Santa Claus, and all the animals look forward to growing fat off the people’s excess food, especially the turkey.

I wait in the tree along Grand Canyon Drive for Mozart, but his tardiness

distresses

me

.

He is never late like this. I hope he just got distracted by the new holiday season.

Weeks ago, Mozart contacted me through Jacques, a freedom fighter cat who, along with his band of resistance fighters, lives in the junkyard. I’ve never met Jacques. He only communicates with me through messengers. Jacques makes it his business to know what is going on all over the town of White Rock and to make sure that there is freedom for pets and animals everywhere. So far, this Jacques has not impeded the rule of my domain. He may be a useful ally against the Emperor. Jacques made it seem urgent for me to meet the cat I now call Mozart. Our first meeting was as disappointing as lite cat food. Mozart revealed nothing, other than the fact that he was afraid of something.

Maybe whatever he was afraid of has caused him to be late for this meeting.

Or worse.

The silence of the night is broken by the roar of a large vehicle and screeching tires racing towards my hiding spot. My ears twitch and my eyes zoom in to see what it is. I fear a truck has run over Mozart, but that’s not

the

case

.

Fierce dog barks and growls erupt along with the roaring engine and screeching tires, and then the vehicle stops. I can’t see the dog, but I can see the large van clearly.

Animal Control is written on the side of the vehicle. Three surly men in uniforms get out of the van carrying various weaponry to wield against the

monstrous

dog

.

The men assault the dog, yelling, and even using words my children people are not allowed to use, as the barking and growling continues from this beastly dog that I have not yet been able

to

see

.

The conflagration lasts for minutes—nobody can withstand Animal Control that long!—but the three Animal Control workers wrestle what must be a monstrous dog in a net into the back of the van. Afterward, the Animal Control workers limp and clasp their bodily injuries while they grumble to themselves.

I can’t believe that dog, one of them says. Talk about ruining my Thanksgiving.

That dog is some kind of monster, another Animal Control worker agrees.

The Animal Control van drives away, and I’m thankful they did not spot me. I am not at home, I don’t have a collar or tags so as to not attract coyotes, and I certainly did not want to be put in the back of the Animal Control van with whatever that dog was they just captured, even if he is caged.

I wait a few more moments for Mozart, but he never shows up. That monster dog and Animal Control plus Mozart’s disappearance can’t be a coincidence. This region of town has been changing for the worse, and I get the feeling that an invisible Iron Curtain has descended upon Grand Canyon Drive, dividing the town in half. I shudder to think what may soon threaten my domain from beyond Grand Canyon Drive, this Wall creating two different worlds. I’m certain the Emperor is responsible.

I go back home warily. I can hear Chief in his pen sloppily chowing down what must be leftover turkey and stuffing. Chief is the big friendly old dog who lives next door, one of my loyal subjects and a key adviser. I decide not to say anything to Chief at this point.

There’s no point in ruining this holiday by sharing a threat that I only have a gut feeling about.

Animal Control captured that monster dog, and Mozart may have just been late, I reassure myself.

I reenter my house, and I find Max in my eating room also eating leftover Thanksgiving turkey.

To my people’s credit, I notice that they left me more Thanksgiving food than Max. I don’t say anything to Max about Mozart, either.

Why can’t I go Black Friday shopping tomorrow? the oldest girl child demands of her parents in the

other

room

.

I already told you why, and I’m not going to discuss it anymore, the big man person replies impatiently.

You never let me do anything fun, she complains. "Can I have a

sleepover

,

then

?"

Not this weekend, the big man person says. How about during Christmas break?

This response placates the oldest girl child. She doesn’t reply.

The Thanksgiving feast just doesn’t taste the same with the trouble looming over my domain. I fear for Mozart’s life. Perhaps his apprehension during our first meeting was justified. And even though Animal Control captured that menacing dog, I fear a plot from the Emperor.

What if that dog were to escape from Animal Control?

Once you’re done eating, I tell Max, "inform Tweedledee and Tweedledum about our next Cat Council meeting. It will be at the usual place, under the lilac bush, and the

usual

time

."

Yes, ma’am, Max replies in between bites.

I watch Max leave after he’s done eating to go inform Tweedledee and Tweedledum about the Cat Council meeting, and I mull over all the possibilities as I inhale not only turkey, but the most delicious sausage stuffing I have ever eaten—at least since last year, anyways.

It is time for my monthly Cat Council meeting, the first Tuesday of December. This is something new I instituted to ensure that all of us cats are allied and understand that I am in charge. The four of us-that is, Max, the twins, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, and I-gather behind a lilac bush in the backyard of my house. I make sure that we are not in a circle. We are not equals, and I am not the first among equals. I face the three of them as their leader, as the empress over my domain.

Now that you have all stated your pledge of allegiance to me, your empress, I say, "does anybody remember what the first item on the

agenda

is

?"

Three paws shoot up into

the

air

.

These three younger cats are excited that I include them in running my domain. The twins practically bounce up and down, raising their paws in the air. Max lunges to raise his paw higher than the other two. I sigh at this childish behavior.

I call

on

Max

.

We need to discuss the new people moving into the empty neighbor’s house, Max says. The twins give Max a sidelong glance, jealous that I called on him. Tweedledum, the boy twin kitten, raises

his

paw

.

Yes?

I

say

.

As instructed, Tweedledum says with a sharp look at Max, "Tweedledee and I gathered intelligence about this new family who will

move

in

."

Excellent. Report.

They move in this week, Tweedledee says. The now vacant house is the same house that had a possum trap in my earlier adventures. It is also where the rattlesnake temporarily lived. You never know what kind of troublemakers might inhabit a vacant house.

These people are moving from a house beyond Grand Canyon Drive,

Tweedledum

adds

.

My eyes narrow.

We think they have children, but we have not been able to ascertain what kind or how many,

Tweedledee

says

.

But, Tweedledum says, we do know one enticing thing. Tweedledum looks at us to draw us in for his juicy gossip. "They have

a

pet

."

What kind? I demand.

It is a parrot. A talking bird, Tweedledum answers.

So what? I say. "Even Max can talk. No

offense

,

Max

."

But this parrot can talk like a person, and it can also talk like an animal,

Tweedledee

says

.

What do you mean?

I

ask

.

Yeah, Max butts in. "What do

you

mean

?"

We mean, Tweedledum says, that this talking bird can talk to you and me just like any other animal. However, this talking bird can also talk with humans using people words and people language.

Tweedledee and Tweedledum sit up proudly and puff their

chests

out

.

That is a power I am deeply suspicious of, I say. "Unprecedented. What sort of beast can bridge the gap between devolved humans and

civilized

cats

?"

"I know. I know," Max says, thrusting his paw up in

the

air

.

It’s a rhetorical question, I say. If a cat like me can’t do it, then what does that say about this bird? I look at the three other cats on the Cat Council, but they keep their paws down from fear of a scolding.

This is new territory, I warn. We must be cautious of this flying beast. The fact that this family comes from beyond Grand Canyon Drive is also suspicious. Is it a coincidence that they are coming from the Emperor’s Evil Empire?

Max raises his paw halfway before my glare forces him to lower it. Tweedledum mouths the words, Rhetorical question, to Max in rebuke.

When this family moves in, I say, "we need to send patrols into their yard. These will serve two main purposes. First, they will be a means of gathering intelligence on these spies, enemies of my empire. We must discover how many children they have. What if they have a child

like

Todd

?"

The three shudder at the mention of the incorrigible teenage boy in town who has a penchant for tormenting animals.

Secondly, I continue, we need to acclimate this new family to our presence. If we constantly move in and out of their yard from the first day they move in, then they won’t suspect anything later when they continue to see cats. Understood?

Three cat heads nod in response.

That brings us to the next item on our agenda, I say as I notice snowflakes beginning to fall gently from the sky. This rival who calls himself ‘The Emperor,’ recently expanded his domain as far as Grand Canyon Drive. A family that is moving out of his kingdom into mine? I suspect this family is being sent to spy on me. The three other cats on the Council have their eyes wide open, perhaps realizing