Lucky Cat

“Don’t worry, buddy. It’s just a costume.”

Meowing, he had never heard such a terrible sound.

Grant didn’t hate cats. He’d never hated cats or dogs, or any kind of pet. Even now, as his arms grew tired, he wasn’t angry at this specific cat. His or her coat was a cloak of darkness, aside for a pair of piercing, blue eyes. Grant was jealous. He wished his eyes could glow.

“Here, kitty.”

His fingers remained stiff, just like the fake chain mail draped over his chest. The cat bent down, waving a paw toward Grant’s direction. Again, he called after the cat and again, the cat lowered only a single paw. If Grant jumped, he was sure he would come down with the cat. The bark looked sturdy. Hell, it looked thick and strong, as did the dozens of trees that lined the street.

“Here, kitty kitty.”

Maybe the cat needed some amusement. This time, he wiggled his fingers. His wife was right, though. If Grant was so angry and frustrated at the state of the world, it would help if he just simply acted, instead of moping.

Sotto voce, his wife’s words rang through his head. He called after the cat one more time. Truthfully, the breeze was so warm he could stand outside forever. Even the plastic sword dangling off his hip didn’t bother him as it did during the party.

But the cat didn’t move. He, Grant just had a feeling the cat was a mischievous little boy in another life, inched backward on the thick branch. One paw was raised to his lips. Head lowered, his tongue began to lick every inch of his fur. It was only now that Grant wondered if holding this cat wasn’t the healthiest or safest idea when he finally moved.

Spine stiffened. A black flash breezed through the air. The cat was on the ground, about twelve feet away. Grant turned. His hands were still outstretched, as if the cat was begging to leap into his arms. Something about the glow of the cat’s eyes called out to Grant. The wind settled.

“Something wrong, bud?” Grant inched forward.

The cat stepped backward another inch. Grant squinted. Only fur was wrapped around the cat’s neck.

“Come on, bud. Do you have someone? A home?”

Just then, the cat leaned forward and stretched. Still, Grant couldn’t see a hint of the cat’s rib cage. Someone must have kept this guy well fed. He was just about to get a look at the tail when he was left staring at a black blur, again.

“Hey!”

He wasn’t careful enough not to yell. Running through the park, the cat past tree after tree after bush. Grant swore at himself. His legs would punish him the next morning, but that cat had to belong to someone. Be the change, his wife’s words rang out in his head. He stopped thinking and Grant ran. Legs pumping, he followed the cat. Thankfully, whether it was the shine of the moon or the miniature golden suns from the nearby homes, the cat never disappeared.

This Halloween, Grant was out late, but not too late. There might be some stragglers, but even as they left the park and turned onto the sidewalk, not another soul was out. Feet pounding on the cement, the cat decided to stick the entire length of the curve. To their right was the river, small stars reflected on the clear, blue water. Grant tried bringing his arms into his chest. If he had any breath, he would have sighed.

Just his luck, the car turned again. Thud, thud, thud. Grant’s ears popped solely from the sound of his boots stomping. The cat sped up, his legs pumping like no other, nearly flying. He stopped at the edge of the bridge.

“Thank God.” Grant skidded to a halt. Hands on his knees, he tried sucking air back into his lungs. He looked ahead at the cat.

The cat turned. Head raised, two eyes that belonged to the feline glowered. Grant couldn’t tear himself away from the animal. Both eyes twinkled against the moon. His sleek fur, even as he ran, didn’t rustle.

The small of his mouth opened. His head turned. Grant walked closer to the cat.

“You good, man?”

Most times, he would have felt a little ridiculous talking to another animal. This time felt different. But this cat was staring at him. Cats don’t stare at people. They look past them, oftentimes on their way to food. Grant began to take another step toward the cat. The twinkle returned. A small flash leapt out of the cat’s eyes. It flew through the air too quick for Grant to feel any kind of fear. He reached for his hip, only able to grasp air.

Cutting through the air, the miniature star stopped on the other side of the bridge. The flash was slow, a tear widening further. Mouth agape, Grant turned to the cat. His black fur hadn’t budged. In the middle of the black of night, a small hole of sun burst to life. Grant stepped forward, able to see the bridge, river, surrounding trees, all through this small window vibrant with color.

“Help! Oh, hell! Help!”

Grant winced. Just the tips of thick flesh could be seen dangling off the ledge of the bridge. He raced forward, stopping at the hole. A warm breeze emitted through the hole. He picked at the wind, tracing the hole in front of him. Just on the other side, flesh wiggled. Against thick stone, Grant knew the hands wouldn’t hold on for much longer.

“I’m coming!” He shouted into the hole. Good God, what will his wife think?

Racing, he threw himself against the thick of the railing. The stone was warm, as having been out in the sun all day. His hands followed the thick fingers. Without even thinking, he grabbed the forearm and lifted, with all his might. Grunting, heaving, his eyes were closed, but he knew to bend down again. Somehow, the lady stuck her armpit in his hands. First time for everything. He stepped backward, pulling with his feet. The shouting had since ceased.

The air lifted him up and over. Grant rolled as he crashed onto the ground. Still, either out of sheer fear or the adrenaline of running through a magic portal, not an ounce of him felt sore. Something heavy tore at his chest. When he had the chance to open his eyes, he saw the woman he saved. Older, much too old to be on her own, was a woman with long, grey hair. Her frock was modest. Drops of blood speckled her black boots.

“Good sir!” She waved, only just, while laying sprawled out on the ground.

The cat. One look at the bridge and Grant knew he needed to find the cat. He looked back toward the hole, back where he came from. Still standing there, the cat’s light eyes followed Grant the entire time.

“Thank you, kind knight!” Moaning, the woman tried to push herself up off the ground. Failure, as she remained splayed, her back wide.

“You’re welcome!” He nodded toward the woman. “Make sure to call your doctor if you’re still in pain!” He raced toward the hole in the air, with both left feet.

“What the bloody hell is a doctor?” The question grew faint. Grant raced toward the cat. As if on cue, the cat took off. Again, he struggled to keep his arms from flailing. Gone was the warm sun and thick, stone bridge. Grant knew he needed to catch that cat. For once in his life, he needed to ask a cat some very important questions.

He had a feeling this one time the cat was going to respond.

Away from the slick, park trail, he followed the black tail as it bobbed its way toward the miniature suns. They hung off the porch, stuck up right out of the ground. Hell, Grant even saw one light cover an entire damn window. The cat weaved in and out of the decorations. Twice, he crossed the street. Grant damned the cat. If he got hit by a car, then it was game over.

Somehow, Grant just knew the cat had no intention of getting hit by a car. Pit, pat, not a single claw fell out of place. The cat’s pace was hypnotizing. He closed in on the manicured lawns. Again, the wet bricks caused Grant to fall ass over teacups. Half a dozen choice words crossed his mind. Grant bit his lip, stood up, and sprinted off toward the cat.

Rooftops hung low. Still, shadows cast onto the grass. Bright, blue stars shone against the fur. Twice, the cat turned to see if Grant was keeping up. He kept low, his back growing tight. The cat cut through a driveway and disappeared into a small hole. Pressing against the fence, Grant didn’t think twice; he kept moving. On his toes, he remained light, ensuring he didn’t make a sound. Grant didn’t even see the other side of the small alley, as the wooden fence pushed back.

A cry, high pitched, sounded desperate. Soft, the cry bounced off both the ground and stone frame of the garage, and even the wooden fence. Grant finally freed himself from the alleyway. Further down the stone driveway, he walked. The cry grew louder, or more clear. He wasn’t sure if cats were smart enough to raise their voice.

To his left was an exact duplicate of the driveway. Same placement of the stones, same length of the driveway. Hell, the wooden doors were marked with identical knicks and dents. The only difference was a pair of green garbage cans. Grant spotted them, thinking for a second they were moving. Another step and it was clear to him the cans were shaking. He had an idea. Staring down from above, he saw the cat, his back splayed across one of the cans, while he struggled to remain on all four paws.

“Well?” Grant crossed his arms and looked down.

The cat stared back. His eyes grew wide. The twinkle remained, still shone in light blue. Neither of his front paws were able to free his tail from the can.

“Are you going to explain yourself?”

A stir came from below. Three, four, five swipes at the tail, but the cat flopped down on the ground. Grant sighed. He had a few ideas about what would happen next. Still, he felt bad for the poor thing. Slowly, one of his palms pressed against the lid of the trash cans. His hand trudged to the sky. Grant looked down at the cat the entire time. In a flash, the tail retracted. Curling inward, he wrapped the tail against his own fur and disappeared across the lawn.

Another twinkle. Grant felt the same warm air against his shoulders. His eyes scanned the grass for the cat, but to no avail. Another gust of air brushed against him. Yet this one stung, a few dozen toothpicks rubbing against his back. He followed the pinpricks, only to see the same hole from minutes earlier.

Except this time, Grant gasped. This time, the hole was on fire.

He ran, hot, red daggers clawing at the air near the tree. Grant knew he had to run toward the hole. Something inside him told him to make sure whatever, whoever was on the other side was safe. The fire climbed up higher on the tree. Jamming each scarlet knife, the fire pulled itself up closer to the leaves. A small boy with a pail came into view.

“Ah! Ah!”

Water tipped. The boy’s fingers poked at the bottom of the pail. He let out another cry.

Grant leapt forward. Wrapping both hands around the pail’s handle, he shouted, “Stand back!” Secretly, he hoped the young boy would step through the portal. Whatever the cat had in mind, he was certain another living soul racing back to his world was not “it.”

One, two, and on the third shove, the water smothered the threatening flames. The boy’s fingers covered his face. Grant dropped the bucket and patted him on the back. Where are you from and how did the fire start were only two of the several questions Grant had for the young boy.

Chains hummed. It was a gentle grind, if Grant had ever heard of such a thing. Something heavier weighed against his chest. His eyes wandered down his chest.

“Thank you, sir!” The boy’s voice threatened to break glass.

His mop of brown hair turned to Grant and bowed low. Grant waved his hands, refusing the gesture, only to be repulsed.

In place of his hands were two shiny gauntlets.

Speckled with the same twinkle as he saw in the cat’s eye, Grant didn’t have time to gasp. One, two, and on the third meow, Grant had the sense the cat was going to leave him behind. He turned on his heel and ran out of the portal.

On the ground just in front of the tree was a large puddle of water. For just a second, he caught sight of how he looked. Shoulders broad, with his chest threatening to burst out of the armor, even a sword was by his side. Even his face seemed different. A strong jaw jutted forward, as if daring someone to wrong him.

He would have to thank the cat.

But the dark blur raced through the neighborhood. Running, its feet threatened to carry him off the ground. Grant hurried along, careful to not yell or shout after the animal. A sense of quietude had befallen the homes. Bed time, last bites of candy; it was an hour when you were supposed to be in your home and off to bed.

Grant could feel his phone in his pocket. His keys, too, were there. His legs carried him up and down the streets. Block after block, he was much more careful to cut across the lawns this time. The cat just avoided his gaze. Finally, he came to a roundabout, littered with stop signs. Grant stood on the street corner. He thought back to the portals and the different people.

Maybe chasing after the cat wasn’t the point.

No shrugs nor last protestations to the air around him. Deep down, he knew the cat would find him if he could. The cat didn’t need to be chased. Simply, he let it be, for maybe the cat had someone else to serve, with its sky blue twinkle and fur as dark as the night.

“Ow!”

A fire like pain hugged his ribs. He groaned, put his hands on his head, and made his way to his car. Street lights still hung in the air. The wind blew the odd leaf in his path. Grant couldn’t find another shadow casting itself on the sidewalks like he was.

He sighed, with relief. He wondered what his wife would say. Knowing her, she would have wanted to be there with him, even if the adventures were only bite sized.

Suddenly, a purr. Grant looked down. The cat brushed up against his leg. He scooped the cat up. Neither stopped walking. But the purring didn’t seem to be out of panic or anger. Again, the cat hummed, rubbing his face all over Grant’s chest.

They walked home, not a single trace of the fire nor the woman falling into the lake was left behind. Only a few shredded pieces of Grant’s self-doubt.