Reetchin Mai Disrtnayshun

Mom Says:

Agent Octavian drowsed while Alek drove. Finally, he felt fully returned to himself (because kittees don’t handle air travel well, and it messes even more with cats who are living multiple simultaneous lives). He said, “Hey, Alek, I thingk that I am fynlee bak! Huh. Wher wuz I aneewae?”

Alek sighed with relief. “I don’t know, old chap, but I never want to go there.”

“Wher we heddin now?”

“To a shrine out in the country, a rural area where animals are a bit freer to meet each other without human surveillance.”

“Cool! Wen kin we stop fer, lik, littr an dinnr?”

“Quite soon, actually. I hope within twenty minutes, at most.”

“Eksellint! Yu ar the bestest shofer a spy-gy cud possibul hav, Alek. Huh, wayt! I jus rememembred! Yu’r a spy too! Yu must be reellee gud. Yu eevn foold me!”

And the big black cat curled up on the front seat and went back to sleep almost immediately. He seemed to be smiling, with his tail wrapped around his body so that the tip just brushed his nose, almost tickling it.

Trees and fields flashed past. Alek thought to himself, What is it about this cat? Every time I think I’m about to strangle him, he says something like that and I want to pat him on the head, or scritch him under the chin...

And just as he was thinking this, he turned the car into a long curve that ended in front of a very old shrine. Alek braked and made a long, quiet, involuntary noise, half a sigh and half a grunt of fear. Octavian woke from a dead sleep and in a flash was standing on the dashboard, quivering, all his fur standing on end.

“What is it? Yu skeerd? What happnin?”

Alek spoke slowly as he scanned the sanctuario before them, a narrow stone structure leading out from a heavy outcrop of sandy-colored rock as if it were extending an inner cave. “I think…we’re here.”

“Yah. So wher this heer we at?”

They watched anxiously as a small breeze set small colored feathers quivering at the edges of stone on stone, in the narrow arches between weathered pillars. Octavian sniffed and said, “Alek, roll down yer windo!”

And such was Eight’s urgency, that Alek did it, letting in hot air. Octavian closed his eyes and sniffed. And rumbled.

This was not a purr. This was a warning signal. If a neon sign had suddenly appeared above Agent Eight with the message, “Pet Not the Cat,” Alek would not have been surprised in the least.

What did surprise him was when Eight murmured, “Mmmm, Alek?”

“Mm?”

“Look off to the…um…lift. Whatchu see ther?”

“Um, a very steep stairway made of stones or possibly big slabs of wood?”

“Mm. Aneethin els?”

“Um, a possibly very old cat who doesn’t seem to definitely be there between one second and the next?”

There was a small sigh of relief. “OK. So it not jus me. That is probabul gud, rigt?”