Maybe the mist swirling around his head was beginning to clear. He was vaguely aware that he was no longer dreaming. Or had he been dreaming? Had he found memories in that swirling mist that he had misplaced so long ago? He opened his eyes a little to look for the phantom images that had been so vivid such a short time ago. Was it a short time ago? He couldn't tell. And his eyes were so heavy. He was tired, too tired. And uncomfortable. Why was he so uncomfortable? He needed a good stretch, that's what he needed. One of those whole body stretches where every muscle quivers and your back arches and you sink to the floor in a contented furry mass. He tried to stretch...he couldn't. One foreleg did manage to move forward, but his muscles trembled and the foreleg dropped down to his side like a dead weight. The other foreleg have not moved at all. When he made a conscious effort to move that foreleg, flashing pain announced its presence through the foreleg and up into the middle of his back. He made an abrupt stop at any further movement. Something was very, very wrong with him. And he needed to remember what it was. "Think!", he scolded himself. "Clear your head and try to remember!"
He began to search his surroundings with a critical eye. This was not his home. He was not on his pillow by the big stone fireplace. But, this place, this room looked familiar. He had been here before. The pillow he was resting on was soft, and it might be as comfortable as his pillow. But the pain wouldn't let him be comfortable. Something about the pillow, though...something familiar. He felt himself relax a bit. The pillow carried the scent of Dem and Bom. And, through his new-found friend, the mist, herealized he was in the home Dem and Bom shared with their man, Dr. Campbell, the veterinarian. He tried to think. He really did. But his eyes wouldn't stay open and the mist was swirling into his ears and he couldn't think anymore. He was so tired that even the pain couldn't keep him awake any longer.
He was in a large, comfortable wicker basket by the old fireplace, and it was filled with soft, cuddly afghans that the Vicar's wife had crocheted. He was a kitten and his eyes had barely opened. Everything was new and exciting. He had finally been able to see the brothers and sisters that shared his home. Close by or curled up next to him, they were all there, sleeping, full of warm milk from their mother. He watched as his mother bathed Dem and Lonz. Bom, Tug and Mac had already had their baths and were rolled into balls of baby fur. He waited patiently for his turn. He enjoyed watching his mother take care of them, and he liked the scent of her fragrant mother fur. He didn't mind waiting. He knew his mother would not forget him. Later, when the kittens were all awake, their father would jump into the basket and play with them. Tug and Mac would attack Deuteronomy's tail and try to make vicious feline sounds that always came out a pitiful "mew".
Lonz would jump on his back and try to wrap his paws around his father's neck, but most of the time he lost his balance and fell into a twisted tumble of afghans. Bom and Dem would swat at his old whiskers, making him curl his lip and sneeze. That seemed to be the object of the girls' game. He couldn't help laugh at his father and his brothers and sisters. But he didn't play with his father. He only wanted to curl himself into a ball and lay between his father's massive paws. There he would fall asleep in his father's unspoken love and strength. The pain caused the mist to clear briefly. He opened his eyes and tried to shift his weight slightly, just slightly. The pain eased, so the mist felt safe in returning and began to swirl around his head again. His eyes were so heavy.
There was the day that he walked into the parlor and saw his father sitting alone, on the window sill, with such a sad look in his eyes, that Munk stood still and held his breath. Deuteronomy turned to look at his son and tried to smile. But Munk knew it wasn't a real smile, and for the first time, he began to feel a new sensation called fear. The other kittens rolled and stumbled into the room behind Munk, oblivious to what had passed between father and son. Lonz and Dem, soon, sensed a certain something. Bom was next to notice. Finally Tug and Mac finished their rolling wrestling match and looked to their father for some recognition of their feline skills. When they realized their father had not even noticed them, Tug sulked off into a corner to pout, and Mac knocked over a small table filled with books as he stomped out of the room. Later that day, Munk heard the Vicar and his wife talking in the library. Just bits of conversation, and it really didn't make any sense to him. "And them so young...not even weaned...what will happen..."
Well, their conversation wasn't important to him, he thought. He didn't know what "weaned" meant. Besides, he was hungry, and it was time to find his mother so he could nurse. His brothers and sisters were probably already nursing, and he would have to push Tug and Mac aside to be sure Bom and Dem got their fair share of milk. Lonz would look out for his sisters, but without Munk to help him, Tug and Mac would bully him into waiting until they were through. Tug wouldn't hurt Lonz or the girls, but Mac would. Munk went back to their old wicker basket. It was too small for all of them to live in, but it was just the right size for nursing. It seemed awfully quiet when he reached the basket. He looked inside and no one was there. He began to feel that new feeling called fear, but he wasn't certain why. He ran through the study and the parlor, then the hall. Upstairs, he ran even faster through the bedrooms. Nothing. He didn't like this new feeling of fear. It made him leap down the stairs and slide onto the hall's tile floor.
Then, he heard voices in the kitchen. And he ran so fast to find the voices that he stumbled into a table leg. He landed at the Vicar's feet, and when the man looked down, he smiled sadly and said, "There you are, kitten. We thought you might be lost."
When Munk looked around the kitchen, he saw his brothers and sisters sitting near a large bowl on the floor. Cook was bent over, pouring white liquid from a bottle into the bowl, muttering something under her breath. She seemed angry. Why was she angry? She was always so funny, so kind to them. Had he done something wrong? When Cook stood up, Munk could see she was crying. Why was she crying. Then, for the first time since he had tumbled into the room, Munk saw his father, sitting nearby, but seemingly unaware of his childrens' presence. Why did his father look so very, very sad? Suddenly, the Vicar's voice boomed and all the kittens twitched. "Well, kittens, it's time you learned to feed yourselves. You have to learn to drink from a bowl.", he said, and picked up two of the kittens.
Tug and Mac were the first to learn. The Vicar gently pushed their faces into the bowl. Tug and Mac sputtered and hissed. Mac clawed at the Vicar and bit his thumb. But then, something happened. They began to lick something off their whiskers and their expressions changed. They dropped their heads into the bowl and started to lap at the liquid inside. Lonz and Bom were next to be dipped into the bowl. They, too, fought at first, but when they tasted what had soaked their whiskers, they joined Tug and Mac. Dem didn't wait for the Vicar. She walked over to the bowl and sniffed. She carefully dipped her head inside and liked what she found. Munk was confused. He didn't want a bowl. He wanted his mother to nurse him. That bowl didn't look furry or warm. He looked at his father with an unspoken plea. His father answered him with a shake of his head. Munk sighed and walked over to the bowl. The first taste he took of the liquid was strange to him. But it started to taste good, and he was soon drinking with the same relish his brothers and sisters were showing.
As time passed a routine was established. Lonz and Munk would have to snarl and swat at Mac and Tug to make certain Bom and Dem got a fair share of milk. It got worse when Cook began to add chopped meat on a dish for the kittens. Lonz would push Tug back from the plate, and Munk would have to fight Mac with claws so that Dem and Bom could get enough to eat. When the girls were done, Mac and Tug would eat their fill. Lonz and Munk would eat what was left, but sometimes, Munk would push a few more morsels over to Tug. He didn't mind. He had to protect the rest of them from Mac. He knew Tug wouldn't hurt his sisters, not really. He was just more concerned about himself. But Munk knew that Mac would slash at his sisters and hurt them as badly as he sometimes hurt Munk.
Was he dreaming? The mist was still there. It was becoming a friend. He must have been dreaming. And he felt a sadness he couldn't understand. He let the mist close his eyes again so he could sleep.
They had all grown into healthy kittens. Each of them was their own cat, as the Vicar would say. They were quite a handful. The Vicar let Deuteronomy know what the old cat had long expected. It was time for the kittens to live in new homes. When they were told they would be going to new homes, Munk felt fear again, something he hadn't felt since... but he shook it off. He knew it was time for them to grow up. Deuteronomy sat with his children on the old stone step by the door. "It's better than I had hoped", he told them. "Bom and Dem will live with Dr. Campbell, the veterinarian. He's very kind and, even though he takes care of animals all day, he has no cats of his own. A good friend of his, Dr. Devon, is a person doctor. She just lost her beloved cat and wants to take Lonz, Tug, Munk and Mac. The Vicar doesn't think she'll be able to handle all of you boys, but she said she has enough love for all of you."
It could not have been a better living arrangement. Munk would often walk over to the veterinary clinic to visit Dem and Bom. He let himself in by way of the cat door and would find his sisters sleeping on their pillows, or sitting on the window sill, or pestering Cook for treats. Whenever Cook spied him from the corner of her eye, she would smile and ask, "Would your Lordship care for a bite?"
Then, she would pick out some choice morsels from the meals she was preparing and put them on a plate at Munk's feet. Later, Munk and his sisters would find the sunniest window sill and groom themselves and sleep until it was time for him to go home. Once or twice they tried to talk about their mother, but there didn't seem to be much to say. None of them could remember more than shadows. Sometimes Lonz would join Munk to visit their sisters. Cook would prepare Lonz's plate just as she did for Munk. Then, she would mutter something about too many lordships. But, most often, Lonz stayed home. He told Munk he liked being close to the house, to sit on his favorite porch rail. But Munk knew that Lonz always kept a watchful eye for Mac and any trouble he might cause. Tug was usually off on his own, and whatever trouble he caused, it was never too serious. But Mac had done some real damage in the village...mean, destructive, unnecessary damage. Dr. Devon often had to pay for Mac's destruction, but she said she loved him anyway. And Munk worshipped her for that.
Whenever Munk visited Deuteronomy at the vicarage, Lonz always joined him. They tried to get Tug to go along, but the one time he did go, he sat alone outside, and didn't say much. Lonz and Munk once asked Mac to go with them, but there was such a fight over it, the two brothers never asked again. Munk and Lonz visited their father as often as they could. They wondered if he knew how much they loved him. There was a sadness in Deuteronomy that the brothers couldn't understand. They knew it had to do with their mother, but they respected him too much to pry. If he wouldn't talk of it, it was not their place to ask. For them, it was enough to be with him and feel his love surrounding them. And they knew that their visits pleased him. He would seem to brighten and be cheerful, if only for a while.
Not long after, there came a day when Mac was gone. Dr. Devon was heartbroken. She kept hoping he'd return. Munk couldn't understand. Mac would scratch her, tear up her favorite things and she always forgave him. When she had to pay for damage he had done, she didn't complain. She had forgiven his mischief and cruelty far more often than Lonz and Munk thought fair. Even Tug had agreed that Mac had had it too good for too long.
Some of the best times the brothers and sisters ever had were at the Jellicle Balls. Their first ball, as new kittens, was magical. They could never have imagined the dancing and singing and all the other cats and kittens. It was an experience that lived with them long after the ball was over. There, they had learned the importance of family and community, love, acceptance, pride and dignity. They also learned it was alright to have fun. At the second ball, they were not quite kittens anymore, but not yet adults. They were still free to do nothing but enjoy the night. All except Munk. He had already been chosen by Deuteronomy and several of the older adults to take charge of the kittens, even though he was still much of a kitten himself. All the adults agreed that Munk was the best choice for training and protecting the kittens.
The mist shifted, and Munk trembled. Was he awake, he wondered, or still dreaming? He yawned and tried again to stretch. This time he was able to stretch his good foreleg and both hindlegs with better success. The pain in his injured foreleg and back was not quite as intense. He yawned again and felt himself relaxing. He wasn't even aware that his eyes were closing.
On one perfectly lovely autumn day, Deuteronomy visited Lonz, Munk and Tug at their lady's house. He brought Dem and Bom with him. At first, Munk hadn't seen his sisters standing behind their father. When he did notice them, they were looking at him strangely. Munk looked over at Tug and Lonz. Maybe they had noticed. But his brothers wore the same strange expression. Then Tug bowed to Munk and saluted just before he left the room. Deuteronomy sat down on the cushion he favored and cleared his throat. He turned to Munk and faced him with the most serious expression Munk could remember his father ever wearing, except when his mother...he couldn't remember his mother. "Son, it's time for you to take over the Jellicle Ball. You're an adult, and there are new generations of kittens to teach. They must learn what you have learned, and they must have the best teacher. You have been chosen."
Munk was staggered with this news. There were older, more experienced adults. He was barely an adult, himself. How could he assume such responsibility? He looked at his father questioningly, wanting to know, but the words wouldn't come. Deuteronomy sensed his son's thoughts. "You are my choice. You have always been my choice. When I am no longer here, you will be the Jellicle leader. You have always been the protector. You have always cared for those who could not care for themselves." Deuteronomy stopped and smiled. "This was not my decision alone. All of the older adults agree. You are the best choice."
Munk felt a protest begin in his throat, but it stopped, and he sighed.
Somewhere, in that mist...was it a few feet from him, or maybe the next room...Munk could hear voices through his dreams...or were they memories. The voices were hushed and only a few mumbled words made any sense. Did he hear "sleeping" or "serious" or "sutures" or "ssshhh"...it sounded like the wind when he sat outside and let the gusts ruffle his fur. He liked the wind. Maybe he'd go ouside and let the wind...but when he tried to lift himself, the mist returned more closely around him and he decided he couldn't sit in the wind just yet.
The night for this year's Jellicle Ball was perfect. Munk had planned a stage show for Deuteronomy and the older adults. He had all the kittens participate, and then, some of the older adults pleaded to join. Munk was going to have them dress as pekes and pollicles and poms. Rehearsals went badly, but Munk was optimistic. Bad rehearsal, good performance. Lonz was like a kitten at the thought of another ball. He loved the dancing, and singing...and some of the young females. As usual, Tug took no part in the planning. He would just show up and monopolize the females as always. But he would sing and dance with everyone else, but be careful to look as though he wasn't having a good time. Munk could see that Dem was preoccupied. She seemed to be somewhere else. Munk had to call to her several times before she responded, and then she would smile at him and assure him she was fine. Bom was running errands and laughing with some of the other cats, but Munk noticed an edge to her and a trace of sarcasm in her voice.
When he had the opportunity, Munk called his sisters over to him. He asked them what was wrong. Dem quickly looked over at Bom and Bom shook her head so slightly Munk didn't see it. Dem tried, somewhat unconvincingly, to assure Munk that everything was fine. Just some things she had heard Dr. Campbell and the mailman discuss in the clinic. Something about an old cat. That's all, just an old cat in the village, down on her luck, been through some rough times. Everyone thought she was dead. Used to live here but ran away. Been gone a few years. Then, Dem brightened and changed the subject.
Munk was confident the ball would be a success. His only nagging concern was that Mac would appear to disrupt the evening. Everyone had worked too hard to make the ball perfect. And it would be Mac who could destroy the evening in only a few seconds. Munk didn't think Mac would actually try to appear with so many adult cats in the junkyard, but he knew his brother well, and he was determined to remain vigilant. While the Jellicles were anticipating Deuteronomy's arrival, an old, battered cat with torn fur and a scarred eye limped into the junkyard. She was a stranger to Munk and the kittens and younger adults. But the older adults seemed to recognize her, and they hissed and ran from her. A few of the adults pushed back the curious kittens and gave the stranger a hate filled stare. Bom approached and circled the stranger in a challenging move to let her know she was not welcome. Munk saw Dem walk slowly up to the old battered cat and reach out to her. But, just as quickly, Dem pulled back her paw and turn away. Dem gave Munk a pleading look and hurried back to Bom, and Bom seemed to be comforting her. Why, thought Munk. He cautiously circled the stranger, waiting to see what it was she wanted there. When she finally did speak, her voice was filled with anger and sadness and defiance. He could not help feel pity for this poor cat, but she was not a Jellicle, She was not welcome at the ball, and he could not let her remain.
Then, Dem approached the battered old cat from behind, and spoke softly. She seemed to speak more to herself than to the group. Dem's voice was hushed sadness. This was a cat who had frequented the worst places in town. She had lived a life of shame and ruin. Everyone thought she was dead. Look at what was left of her now. To think she used to be a glamorous cat named Grizabella. Munk's reflexes startled. His heart beat faster in his chest, and he felt his throat constrict. He began to tremble, and he didn't know why. Something about Grizabella. Think! And a few kittenish memories began to conjure up the scent of a mother's fur and a basket full of kittens. And Munk knew, in that instant, that Grizabella was his mother. As she walked past him, still defiant, still sad, he found he couldn't move. He didn't know what he was feeling. He could only stand there and let years of emotions battle within him. As she moved further away, he finally found the strength to move. He reached out his paw to her. But, it was too late. She was gone.
Munk ordered the mist swirling around in his head to retreat a little. He could still hear hushed voices nearby...were they nearby? There were some people voices, too, now. Was that Dr. Campbell and Dr. Devon? Why did they sound worried? Munk wanted to reassure them that everything was fine, but he couldn't quite move through the mist. And, there were still things to remember...or dream.
The ball had been going so well when Mac suddenly exploded into the junkyard. He seemed determined not just to disrupt the ball, but to destroy it. Munk felt an awful dread at Mac's appearance. He knew Mac wouldn't be satisfied with ending the ball in chaos. Munk knew someone was going to be hurt. Munk did everything he could to protect the kittens and young adults. He felt they would be Mac's most likely targets. And that was exactly what Mac wanted Munk to think. Preoccupied with protecting the younger cats, Munk was unprepared for the shock of Mac kidnapping Deuteronomy. Munk felt a rage he didn't know he could feel. Why would Mac want to hurt his own father...their own father? Munk and the other males, young and old, chased after Mac. They tried to track him, but they failed. They returned to the junkyard to speak to all the cats and kittens in hopes of planning some rescue.
