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.