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.