Catopolis

TO CAT, A THIEF by Robert E Vardeman

After dark, all cats are gray, Robie thought over and over as he struggled to drag his bag of cat food along the littered alley. He kept to shadows as much as possible, hiding his snowy white chest and the mittens on his front feet. The rest of his matted fur was a mixture of gray, black and orange-the only legacy he had received from his long gone father. His mother had been a long-haired Himalayan, but although his fur was long, it lacked the silkiness he remembered of hers before she was run over by one of the noisy, smelly human machines.

Another few yards, he thought. That’s all. A few more feet until I find where the stray cats are hiding.

He had found the homeless cats a few days earlier in an alley behind an apartment building. He had given them what help he could, but it had been little enough that it tore at his conscience. The mother cat, a scrawny tabby, tried to nurse six kittens and had barely enough milk for two. Mother and litter alike were slat-thin and starving. Life in the city had been hard lately, even for a clever, quick cat like Robie. These others needed his help, and he was willing to give it to them.

He hunkered down as lights raked the brick wall over his head. He pulled in his feet and pressed his chin to his chest to hide his reflective white fur until the humans left. The rattle of their machine, the crunch of glass under the stinking rubber wheels, the gaseous filth spewing from the rear, all sickened Robie. His nose twitched, and he opened his mouth as he sampled their scent to memorize it. When he had a chance, he would get even with them for disturbing his peace-and his rescue mission.

Loud music blared from inside and the human guiding the machine smelled of burned hamburger, tobacco, and something else strong and nasty. Robie filed all this away on an already long list deserving retribution. Everything about that human was annoying and mostly illegal even by human laws.

The machine clanked down the alley and onto the street, finally allowing Robie to once more grab the sack in his teeth and begin pulling. The bag of dry cat food tipped the scales at ten pounds, only a little less than he weighed. He had stolen it from a place down the block. Determination kept him sliding the bag along the alley until he came to the cardboard box turned to face the brick wall where the mother and her kittens were hidden from prying human eyes.

He released the bag and reared up on his hind legs, his long ringed tail twitching in indignation. The female already had eaten and lay on her side so her kittens could have their meal. Robie’s nose worked hard, and he found himself wanting to share her new edibles.

“Where did you get the canned food?” he asked.

Lazily, the female lifted her head. Her whiskers twitched. For the first time there was a hint of vitality to her movement, and her pale yellow eyes were no longer cloudy. The succulent canned food had revived her better than his dry food ever could have.

“Another cat brought it for me,” she said. “I was sleeping and the little ones can’t really focus too well yet. A savior, bringing me food when I needed it most.”

Robie sniffed some more. This was not only canned food, it was high-end victuals. The sort of food the hoity-toity fat cats up in the penthouse apartments ate.

“I brought you some more,” he said.

“Thank you, Robie, but I don’t need it right now. Later.” The cat purred and lay back down as her kittens finished their meal and crowded close for their postprandial nap. Mother and kittens fell asleep together.

Robie dropped back to all fours and considered scattering the bag of food across the alley. A slash of his claws and the plastic-coated paper would rip open. What good was it for him to be the most agile, daring cat in the neighborhood if he wasn’t allowed to use those skills? He had gone through a tiny pipe that pressed his whiskers close to his face, climbed up a chain-a chain!-and broken into a store to get this food. There wasn’t another cat feline enough to sneak in using such skills. He was the best!

His anger died at the idea of wasting good food. It wasn’t the female’s fault someone else had brought her nourishment before he could return. Someone else giving it to her did not diminish his skill or daring.

But someone else was muscling in on his philanthropy. Why should a talented cat go out of his way to help others if it wasn’t appreciated because such charity came too late?

“A challenge,” he purred. “A challenge to supply the best food. Fancy food from cans? I can equal or top that. I know I can.”

Robie left, tail high as the idea of how to soothe his wounded pride took form. He walked into the street and looked up at the ten-story building. Getting to the top floors where the richest humans lived with their pampered slaves would not be too hard. Getting back down with the goods posed a huge problem.

I’m clever enough to solve it after I get the loot, he decided. Robie pressed against the warm brick building and glided around the corner bonelessly, waiting for the front door to open. After five minutes, he dropped to his belly and thrust his paws in front of him like an Egyptian god. Then he put his head down on his legs and went to sleep for another ten. His nose alerted him before he heard or saw the approaching human. Robie rose, stretched, and waited with seeming indifference, as if he expected a mouse to pass by. As the human fumbled in her purse for the keycard that electronically opened the door, he readied himself.

A quick gray blur, sinuous and twisting, he entered the apartment lobby without the human ever noticing. Robie thought about rubbing against her legs, but he restrained himself. Instead, he passed his paw over his forehead and the scent glands there, but did nothing to follow and mark the female. She was unscented-free-range human. He shook himself, having more important things to do than claim this woman as his property.

The elevator doors slid open, and she entered. Robie considered his chances, then decided he would be seen. Even if he wasn’t spotted, worse things might happen. Trapped in that cage, unable to open the doors or move between floors, meant he was fair game for the Animal Control kidnappers. Of all the friends he had ever had, not a one had returned after the AC gangsters snatched them away. Other cats had told him stories about markers-RFIDs-implanted beneath their fur. Robie wanted to avoid being cornered or caged at all costs.

The elevator hissed upward on its magnetic drive. It caused his fur to stand on end. Robie slunk along the wall to get away from the elevator, staying close to the floor to avoid being seen on the ever-present security cameras. He had no idea who watched them all the time, but whoever did could howl for the AC kidnappers to come-and they would.

He worked his way around the small upstairs lobby, hardly more than a dim shadow moving toward an emergency door. The humans were meticulous about some things, if not their personal grooming. Marking exits with the white letters and red lights afforded him a way to get to the upper floors. Rich people always lived on upper floors. Robie came to the door with its single handle high up.

He had watched, and he had learned. Robie gathered his legs under him and launched himself with all his strength. He easily reached the handle. He quickly placed one paw on top of the other and swung down, his full weight bearing on the latch. For a moment he hung there, fearing that he wasn’t heavy enough to open the door. Then he felt a metallic click, and the door swung away. With a quick midair twist, he landed on his feet in the stairwell.

Robie had entered a different world from the lobby, with its disinfectant smells and the constant inward rush of air from the street that ruffled fur and made his whiskers twitch. Here was a shaft of concrete quiet. He felt the distant throbbing of machines working lower in the building and took some solace from them. He barely remembered, but the rhythmic sound was like his mother’s heart beating as he lay next to her. Scents were more vivid here, mustier and distinctive, but not unappealing.

Gingerly placing one paw on the metal step leading upward, he waited. The small vibration he’d made would not attract any human’s attention. They were so isolated with their feeble hearing and puny senses of smell that he could walk past any but the most astute-or allergic. At that thought, Robie had to thrash his tail about in irritation.

How dare they start sneezing when I come into a room? I’m as clean as I possibly can be, living in the alley and fending for myself. And others.

Robie stopped when he reached the top of the stairs. Getting through this door would be a little easier since the silver panic bar would yield to a good leap. He had to try three times before the lock snapped open and his weight carried the door inward just enough for him to get through. Landing on soft feet, he sniffed and then began walking down the middle of the corridor as if he owned the building. The scents coming to him were heady and confusing, but he quickly found where a cat resided. Stepping back and looking up convinced him there was no easy way inside. The complicated lock on the door was meant to keep everyone out.

He lightly jumped to a table at the end of the hallway and poked his nose at a window. It took several minutes for him to figure out how to get a paw underneath the partly opened window and lift it enough to slip under. Robie glanced out and down. Ten stories. The street below was filled with the smelly, noisy machines humans dashed around in rather than depending on their own legs. Stride sure, he walked along the six-inch wide ledge, went around the corner and admired the stone gargoyle set at the corner. He rubbed against that corner to scratch just the right spot on the middle of his forehead.

Purring, he continued his exploration and immediately found the window to the apartment where he had scented another cat. Opening this window would take a little more skill since there was a motor attached. His quick claw caught at a wire, and he stopped. The motor and a burglar alarm were already disconnected. Someone had made it too easy for him. The window opened easily, and he jumped down on feather-light feet to explore.

He inhaled deeply and caught the female’s scent. A pang of worry almost caused him to reverse his course and leap for the window. The entire apartment had been marked as property by the other cat, but it was such a beguiling scent that he had to continue his exploration. He found the female’s bed and poked his nose under the soft blanket.

How decadent. She actually sleeps on a blanket!

Robie continued poking around but did not find where the female must be napping, although signs of her presence were everywhere. Toys. Fancy feather toys that looked like birds dangled from rubber bands. Robie had to bat at one, enjoying the feel of his claw taking off a feather.

She doesn’t get to hunt real birds, he realized. He felt a little sad for her. Then anger grew at her decadent lifestyle.

He turned a corner. A bowl filled with refrigerated water from a humming electrical unit waited for her. Beside this fountain of pure elixir was her china food bowl. He sniffed and knew he had to find the pantry. The food that had been delicately lapped from this bowl was gourmet quality. The kittens would benefit from it when their mother dined in style.

I’ll show that mangy interloper who can provide the best food for a mother and her kittens!

Robie prowled about and stopped to stare when he found the litter box. Tiny yellow plastic fingers waited at the rear of a veritable sea of litter. He stepped into the box and the urge to urinate and excrete overcame him. A few quick scratches buried the evidence, but when he jumped out a growling sound caused him to spin, arch his back, and hiss.

The yellow fingers stroked forward, finding the clumps he had left and whisking them away into a trough that somehow closed. The fingers retreated and once more the litter was clean and the automated box waited for the next visit. Robie had to shake his head at such opulence-and restrain himself from using it again. He lowered his back and let his fur return to normal as he continued to prowl.

A few quick sniffs led him to the pantry. The door stood ajar. A quick paw opened it all the way. He let out a yowl of pure delight when he saw a plastic bag already loaded with food. Opening the cans would be easy enough but getting them down ten stories without being seen presented a problem.

He dragged the loot from the pantry and then looked around the apartment. It took a few minutes to pull down a feather bird on its rubber band. He tucked that into the bag, then batted toys into it from all the rooms. The kittens would be playing with them soon.

A kitten does not live by milk alone, he told himself, grinning. Robie continued to scout the apartment and finally jumped onto a table by the door laden with pictures. The humans did not impress him. They were all the same, but the 3-D picture of the human holding a Siamese stopped him dead in his tracks. Pressing his nose so close his whiskers rubbed the frame, he studied the blue-eyed, purebred Siamese.

His heart raced. Never had he seen a female so appealing. Robie rubbed his chin against the picture and purred. He bumped his head against the frame and sent the picture tumbling to the floor. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces but the picture remained intact. Lightly dropping to the floor, he stepped through the glass and rubbed against the picture again. Now that the frame mechanism had broken, it only gave a 2-D image. Robie carefully put his paw on the human’s face and caught the edge of the picture with his teeth. A toss of his head tore the picture so that he carried the lovely female and the human remained on the floor.

Robie added the picture to his treasure trove in the kitchen, then sat and stared at the bag. He would definitely be a legend when he returned to the alley with this. He could pass out food to more than the mother and her litter. Any stray cat wanting food could dine like a prince.

Like the princess that lives here, he added. Robie looked around the apartment once more, wondering where the Siamese was. Kept cats lived longer but only at the whim of capricious humans. Had her human taken the lovely Siamese to the pound? Why, he couldn’t say, but what they did was always a mystery.

Deciding the Siamese still lived here-scent and incredible toys and food and refrigerated drinking water proved it-he slid his head through the handle on the bag and began his slow progress to the window. It took all his strength and cunning to rearrange the chairs and tables so he could make the ascent to the window ledge in easy steps when, otherwise unburdened, he could have easily jumped.

Robie peered down into the street, then edged outside. The ledge was hardly wide enough for the bag he dragged. More than once he had to stop and use back paws and even his tail to keep the bag securely on the ledge. If it slipped, he would find himself with a noose around his neck ten stories up. Such a fall would eat up all nine of his lives. He wasn’t sure how many were left, anyway, since he hadn’t kept count.

Carefully putting his feet down two at a time, Robie walked along the ledge. His confidence grew with every step. This was going so well. Then it happened.

The ledge gave scant warning that it was at the breaking point. Without his weight as well as the loot on it, the ledge might have remained in place for many more years. As he stepped, the concrete made a grinding noise that caused him to rear backward onto his hind legs just as it tore free. The concrete tumbled down to the street below. Robie found himself on his hind legs like a human, fighting to keep his balance.

With a deft twist, he turned and flopped belly-down on his stolen treasure.

Now what do I do?

Robie arched his back and started to step across the bag he was dragging when he felt the distinctive tremors, like the one that had preceded the other part of the ledge collapsing. Scrambling fast, Robie got over the sack with its food as the spot where his hind feet had been crumbled.

He let out a screech that turned into a strangled whine when the bag tumbled down with the ledge. His feet were on solid ledge but the sack’s two handles strangled him. The weight around his neck pulled him flat. Robie chanced a quick look ten stories down. Cats had survived such a fall.

I won’t make the fall at all. I’m too good for that!

All he had to do was lower his head and let the sack fall. Determination hardened within his mind. That would be a breach of duty. His honor would be gone. How could any proud cat hold his head up after losing such good food?

With a snort of determination, he heaved hard and strained to stand. The bag dangled under him. Robie began retracing the path he had already traversed, his neck muscles knotting from the exertion. When he reached the corner with the gargoyle, an idea came to him. He used its stony skull as a lever to pull up the bag. He turned around, got all four feet against the far side of the gargoyle, and pushed hard. The sack inched upward and then flopped down once more on the ledge.

Am I THE cat! Robie purred with pleasure. He had done more than survive. He had kept his loot from getting away from him. Neck stiff and chafed, he passed the open window. Robie took a final deep whiff of her scent and pushed on.

Uncertain where he was going, Robie circled the building until he saw it. A rope dangled from a pulley on the roof. Exhausted from hauling the bag behind him, he judged distances and wondered if the rope would extend all the way to the ground. Why else would it be here? The crazy humans always did things impulsively, but he had to give them one thing. They built apartments and bridges well.

Robie got his back feet under him, estimated the distance, then leaped powerfully. His front claws raked the end of the rope, scrambling for purchase. When his claws caught hold, he felt himself falling. Fast. Faster. He swung close to the rope and dug in his back claws, making sure he had maximum grip.

And the rope ran faster and faster, taking him toward the ground. He looked down and then back up. He had fallen six stories. Seven.

With a twitch, he let the bag of food fall free. He caught sight of the picture he had stolen. Although it wasn’t in 3-D and lacked the proper scent, he felt his heart twitch. Then he reacted with the full speed of his feline reflexes. Jumping from the rope wasn’t easy since there wasn’t anything to push away against, but he succeeded in landing in a Dumpster atop piles of trash.

He sank to the bottom, claws working hard to halt his descent. Then he fought to surface in the sea of garbage and stood for a moment, triumphant, on the metal edge before hopping down to paw through the fallen bag. Some of the food cans had burst open. He made sure the picture wasn’t soiled, then began dragging the loot to a spot where he could jump onto a box and let out his “Come and get it!” yowl.

Within a few minutes a dozen stray cats crowded close.

“Eat up. Enjoy yourselves,” he called. Robie watched in satisfaction as the scrawny cats, some with ribs poking against their fur, hungrily ate what he had brought.

He shouldered a couple aside and found unopened cans. Using a quick claw and a push with his other paw, he opened these for his adoring crowd, too. Then he gathered the feathered toys and batted then around, deciding on which he liked best. These he gave to the mother with her kittens.

“You’re so good to me, Robie,” the female said, pushing aside what he had brought. “But the other cat’s already brought all the toys we can use. More food, too.”

Robie’s fur rose.

“The other cat?”

“You didn’t think you were the only savior for us in this alley, did you?”

He howled loudly and turned away, angry. Not only did this interloper give food, he also supplied toys and other things that made life just a little better in the alley. Robie found one stray who remained after the feast to bat an empty food can around. He listened to its clanging as it struck a brick wall and rebounded.

“You get food from the other cat?” Robie asked.

“Sure, we all do. Usually better than you get us, but this time, well, you outdid yourself,” the stray said, taking one last sniff at the licked-clean can before strutting off, tail high.

Robie flopped onto his belly and fitfully groomed himself. What was the use of risking his life to get food for the starving when they didn’t care? Worse, they gave all the credit to another cat who furnished even better food.

Looking up at the tall apartment building, Robie felt a surge of determination. He hissed and stood, arching his back. The anger wasn’t at the recipients of his charity or even at the other cat who always trumped his largesse, but at the humans. Forcing decent cats to starve in alleyways was terrible. If any of Robie’s wards-and he had to think of them as such-strayed too far from this alley, Animal Control would swoop down on them. Those few who returned would carry RFIDs to constantly trace them. More than a simple ID implanted beneath their fur, the chips tracked and charted, spied and probably even listened into conversations.

It was the humans’ fault. Cats ought to be free to roam as they chose, climb trees, and daintily pick through garbage unhindered. Robie remembered the last time he had climbed a tree, and snarled. The humans’ park a few blocks away had become a deathtrap for stray cats: Animal Control prowled through it like packs of dogs. He had ventured over there a few months ago and had almost been caught in one of their traps.

Robie wasn’t sure, but he thought that moment when the trap closed prematurely was when he had vowed to never let another cat go hungry if he could help it.

He looked at the picture of the Siamese and batted it about until he got it standing upright against the building wall. It had been so alive when it was in its frame and in 3-D, but it had also shared half with a human. The human had looked at the Siamese as a slave. No matter how fine the prison, that apartment was still a prison.

Refrigerated drinking water!

The thought of such a sweet-smelling Siamese in that pleasure prison caused his tail to ruff. Robie stretched until his back arched high, then he set off again for that apartment with only a quick look back to the picture for inspiration.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but at the least he could get more food for the alley strays. There had been all kinds of cans in that pantry, enough for a dozen cats. Robie purred as he thought of actually seeing the Siamese too, even if he had to dodge her human to do it. He threaded his way through the maze getting back into the stairwell. This time he knew better than to waste time in the hall, and went directly to the window leading out onto the ledge that would take him around the building to another open window.

As he stepped out, he inhaled, and froze. The faintest whiff came to him. He was close to the Siamese. Robie turned around and studied the window.

This is an air-conditioned building. The temperature was set a little low for his taste. So why is a window open?

He shrugged it off. A crusading feline like him deserved luck now and then. Robie curled around the corner and went directly to the open window. The scent of the female came stronger now.

She’s home!

Robie slipped into the apartment and sampled the air in all directions, looking for humans and listening for another cat. Curiously, he did not hear her. He jumped to the floor and made his way to the pantry. Her scent here was stronger.

“You’re in the pantry. Getting food?” Robie flicked out his paw, pulling open the door. It was dark inside, but he saw as easily as he did outside.

“Are you in here?”

The words barely purred past his lips when he heard a quick padding behind him. He started to turn, only to be bowled over. He rolled into the pantry and came to his feet. Too late!

The door clicked shut.

“You should never have come back,” came a voice as pleasant as he had imagined. “It’s not right that you steal food from my lady.”

“What’s your name? I saw your picture.”

“I know. You broke the frame.”

Robie dropped to his belly and thrust his paws out under the pantry door. She touched one paw tentatively from the other side. He purred.

“You tore the picture in half, too.”

“I wanted a picture of you. I’m Robie.”

“I… oh, why am I doing this? I’m Grace.”

“Grace,” he said, letting the name slip out slowly, lovingly. “A name befitting you. All Siamese are graceful.”

“Not all,” she said. “I want you to promise never to come in here again. You’ll ruin everything.”

“Ruin?” Robie yanked his paw back. “Do you need so much food?”

“Of course not. My human spoils me, but you can’t steal it. It will cause problems.”

“Problems,” Robie snarled. “What do you know of problems in your fine nest at the top of an expensive building? You’ve got water that comes from a cooler. You don’t have any problems.”

“I have a conscience. Don’t you?”

“Are you going to starve if I take another bag of your food?”

“Why’d you come back?” Grace sounded peeved now. Her words almost hissed at him. This made Robie all the angrier at her.

“For you.” He hesitated, then added, “For more food.”

“All right, enough of this. I’ve got you trapped. If you promise to leave and not come back, I’ll let you go free.”

“You’ll give me my freedom?” he scoffed. “I’m free. You’re the one in a prison. It’s a posh one, but you’re the captive held by fancy food, clever toys, and chilled water.”

“Promise.”

Robie paced around inside the pantry, knocking over things and creating a ruckus. When some of his anger passed, he went back and flopped by the door.

“What if I don’t?”

“My lady will find you and turn you over to Animal Control.”

Robie heard just a tremor of fear in Grace’s threat.

Is that because she wants me?

“Let me out and we can talk this over.”

“You have to promise to leave and never come back. You’ll get us both into big trouble.”

“I can stay in here for a long time,” Robie said. He batted a can of food off a low shelf and used his claw to pop it open. The fragrance intoxicated him. He was sure Grace smelled it, too, and knew what he was doing.

“You’re incorrigible!”

“How sweet of you to say that.” Robie sampled the canned food and wondered how Grace stayed so thin. If he had food like this available, he would eat until he exploded. Going to sleep with his chin on the food bowl would be the next thing to heaven. It would be heaven if Grace were beside him.

“Someone’s coming! Oh, it’s too late!”

Robie’s ears perked up when he heard a grinding sound and muffled curses. Grace’s human seemed particularly clumsy. He puzzled over the noise a moment longer, then heard two humans speaking in rough voices.

“We might get more for the cat than anything else in this dump.”

“Shut up and help me open the safe. Who wants to steal a damned cat? The grinder’s not taking off the lock like it’s supposed to.”

“The cat’s a purebred, I tell you. My ex raised ’em. Worth a fortune. Maybe more than the cheap ass knickknacks around here.”

“Help me get this safe open!”

Robie heard Grace let out a squeal of anger. He slammed himself against the pantry door and backed off. The door was too solid and the lock too secure for him to barrel through. He stepped back, then jumped to a high shelf so he was level with the knob. Opening this was easy for a cat accustomed to breaking and entering. His claws left deep scratches on the knob as he gripped, dropped with his full weight and turned. The snap lock opened and the door swung wide.

“Damn, look at that. Another cat’s-”

This was as far as the burglar got before Grace clawed his face. Robie saw blood spray from the triple wound she left on his cheek. Hitting the floor running, Robie shot forward and leaped, claws working furiously at the man’s groin. Between this attack and Grace’s quick paws, the man had met his match. Grace hit the floor and spun about, shoulder to shoulder with Robie.

“These aren’t your humans,” Robie said. It wasn’t much of a guess.

“Thieves.”

“Not my kind,” Robie said. “They steal and keep it for themselves.” He looked around. The injured burglar swung a short pry bar back and forth to keep them away. The other one fumbled with a cloth bag. Robie judged how difficult it would be to add a few more claw marks to the first human’s face and maybe take a bite out of his worthless pink hide.

Grace looked at him curiously, then turned toward the open window.

“Follow me,” she said.

“Anywhere,” Robie answered. They jumped to a table but did not go out the window. Grace hesitated long enough to claw at a small gray box.

“Now.” She sinuously moved, a blur of cream fur, out onto the ledge as the two burglars began arguing. Robie was immediately behind her.

“You set off the alarm, didn’t you?”

“I had disabled it and left the window open.”

“Why?”

“We need to get down. Those two are going to fight like cornered rats.”

“I’ve fought cornered rats,” Robie boasted.

“I’m sure you have,” Grace said, looking back at him. He caught the twinkle in her bright blue eyes. They were slightly crossed, but he had never seen more beautiful ones. Ever.

“How do we get off the ledge without going back into the room?” Robie doubted the rope and pulley would provide a way to the ground a second time.

“How brave are you?” Grace stopped at the corner of the building just past a gargoyle. Without another word, she jumped out into space.

Robie howled and hurried to where she had stood only an instant before. Then he saw what she had done. Grace leaped out toward a flag pole, caught the rope and swung around, landing on a ledge two stories below. She looked up at him, waiting.

He never hesitated. For an instant he thought he had jumped too far, then his claws caught the tattered rope and he was afraid it wouldn’t hold his weight. Robie swung back and forth once before letting go. He had to scramble to join Grace on the ledge.

“That was fun,” he said, not sure if he meant it.

Grace turned and walked way haughtily. A window was open just enough for them to slip under, letting them into the building again.

“From here it’s easy getting out.” Grace showed him a niche at the corner that led into the stairwell.

They raced to the ground floor, Robie barely beating her.

Out of breath, they flopped on the concrete and enjoyed the coolness on their bellies. Robie hopped to his feet and found Grace’s way out of the stairwell-another small niche. He wondered how he had missed these design flaws on his first excursion into the building. Within minutes he was out on the street and racing for the alley.

Sirens sounded in the street and caused him to hunker down. The human-infested Animal Control machines rolled up with red and blue lights flashing. Grace’s alarm had reached the right ears.

He walked down the alley, howling to gather the stray cats. They looked at him with new respect, as if they knew what he had done. The mother cat perked up, and her kittens looked at him, eyes open wide.

“You bring us more food?” the mother asked.

Before Robie could answer, Grace said, “Not this time. Soon.”

Robie spun on Grace.

“You were bringing your own food to them,” he said, realization dawning on whom he had been competing with to furnish food to the needy.

“Don’t be silly. Of course not. My lady would notice right away and put me on a strict diet if a lot of food was missing. That’s why I didn’t want you stealing my food. I steal from others in the building.”

“You were the one who left the windows open so you could get in and out.”

“I disarmed the alarm, too, but I had to turn it back on.” Grace craned her neck to see the two burglars being led out of the apartment building and put into the noisy machines.

“Are you going to keep bringing food to the stray cats?” Robie asked.

“Am I? No,” Grace said.

“Why not?” Robie waited for the answer he hoped to hear. And he did.

“

We are.”

He rubbed up against her and purred loudly. What a pair they’d make!