The two smaller humans froze. The only chance they had at getting away was to run in different directions and hope that in the confusion the guard wouldn’t know which one to chase. That’s how Hunter avoided the dogs that occasionally entered the yard. If three cats ran in three directions, a dog would try to chase all of them and end up catching none. Even if a dog focused on one cat to chase, that still meant two were safe.
The two humans dropped their rocks. The guard was much bigger than them. He had darker skin and, as always, was wearing a cloth wrapped on his head. The humans were being submissive, probably hoping he’d leave them alone. Instead the guard reached out and grabbed one of them by the hand and gave it a shake! The guard did the same with the second person too. He grabbed him, shook his hand a little, and then he let it go.
Hunter noticed the guard’s teeth were showing, a sign of aggression. Was the guard about to plunge his teeth into them and bite? No, he was being friendly. None of this made any sense to Hunter. He strained to hear what they said, but they were too quiet. That confirmed things. Humans were loud when they were angry and quiet when they weren’t. They weren’t going to fight. He watched as the three of them walked off and disappeared behind a row of wrecks.
Hunter got to his feet. He wasn’t going to come out of hiding until he was certain they had gone. He crept forward. There was still a strong human scent in the air, but it was fading.
Hunter skirted around the edge of the clearing. He disliked the smell of humans even more than he did dogs. At least dogs always smelled like dogs. Not so with humans. Sometimes they smelled like food, other times like flowers.
Finally, coming full circle, he arrived at the entrance to his den. It was well hidden in the shadows and partially protected by an overhanging wreck. He stopped at the entrance and looked around. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t being observed before he went in. Satisfied, he disappeared down the hole. Mittens and their kittens were waiting for him. Before he could ask why she had brought them above ground, the kittens assaulted him. They were in a playful mood and didn’t seem to understand what had happened out in the junkyard.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Mittens said.
“Have you become a mind reader?”
“I can read a mind when it thinks the same thing all the time. You’re angry with me for appearing above ground when the humans were there.”
He was, but he could never be angry with her for long. “You’re free to do what you want.”
“Of course I am. You don’t own me.”
Nobody could own a cat, especially a wild cat. But even more important, nobody could ever tell a cat what to do. They prided themselves on being independent and taking orders from no one, especially another cat.
“If you wanted to, you could have gone over and rubbed up against them,” Hunter said.
“And if I had wanted to, that’s what I would have done! I used to do that all the time,” she said.
“Before they—” He stopped himself.
“Before they abandoned me?” she asked. “Is that what you were going to say?”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“I wasn’t afraid of them.”
“Maybe you should have been more afraid of them.”
“And maybe you should be less afraid of humans,” she argued.
“Those humans were throwing rocks.”
“Not the first two.”
“They picked up rocks,” he said.
She looked surprised. “They tossed rocks at cats?”
He wanted to lie and say yes. It would have made her more wary, kept her safer. But he didn’t. “No,” he admitted quietly.
“I knew they wouldn’t try to harm us.”
“They could have,” he said.
“No, the first two people were safe. I could tell.”
He knew she was probably right. Hunter knew about hunting, where to find food, how to avoid danger and where the best place to get out of the rain or cold was. But he didn’t understand humans very well. Mittens did. He’d spent his life in the wild. She had lived the first part of her life with humans.
“Those first boys were not dangerous,” she said.
Boys—what humans called their young when they weren’t kittens any longer.
Part of him didn’t even want to know what humans said. He had seen dogs on leashes, walking with humans, listening to their words and obeying their commands. It was almost as if their words were filled with power and control. But their words hadn’t helped the dogs; they had only taken away their power.
Hunter wasn’t some dog. He was a cat, a strong, powerful cat. If he could master the humans’ language, maybe he could control them. Maybe he could walk them on a leash! That thought amused him. But he knew, even if he could put a human on a leash, he would never do it. Hunter valued freedom too much to take it away from anybody. Not even an enemy.
“I just need you to be careful,” he said. “The kittens need you.”
“They’re not the only ones who need me,” Mittens said, rubbing against him.
“I think it’s the other way around,” he replied. “You couldn’t survive out here without me.”
“I wouldn’t want to survive out here without you.”
She could be excused for saying something like that even though it was uncatlike. She had lived with humans for so long, she didn’t understand how important independence was. Still, this cat that couldn’t have survived without him made him happy. He didn’t need her to survive, but his life had to be about more than just surviving. It had to be.
“The other boys, the bigger ones, I knew they were trouble,” she said. “Even if they hadn’t thrown that rock, I would have run.”
“How did you know they were dangerous?”
“It was their faces,” she said. “Humans are different than other animals.”
“I’m not arguing that. What about their faces?”
“It was their expression. You know how a cat twitches its tail when it’s angry?”
“Of course.”
“And a dog wags its tail, when it’s happy,” she continued.
“Stupid dogs can’t even get that right. But what does that have to do with faces?”
“Humans don’t have tails so they show their feelings on their faces.”
“Dogs and cats do that too,” he said. “They snarl or show their fangs or hiss.”
“But it’s different. Sometimes humans show their teeth because they’re happy.”
“That makes no sense,” Hunter snapped. “Why would you do that unless you were happy you were going to bite somebody…those humans are probably happy to bite anybody!”
“You know humans hardly ever bite,” she said.
“That’s because they have so many other ways to fight and hurt and kill, like with their cars.”
“To know if a human is happy you have to look at their eyes and the curve of their mouths,” she continued. “If the eyes get big, they are scared. If they get small they are angry. If the mouth curves up they are happy. If it curves down they are sad or angry or afraid or—”
“Why don’t they just hiss,” he said. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”
“They do hiss,” she said. “It’s in the sound of their voices. Listen to the sounds.”
“I know to run when I hear them coming, especially if they’re loud.”
“Loud can be bad, but so can quiet. You have to do more than listen; you have to hear.”
“They are so loud. It’s hard not to hear them.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said. She paused. “It’s hard to explain, but I can just tell when they are angry, when they’re dangerous.”
“Aren’t they always angry and dangerous?” he asked.
“Not always. My little girl was always nice.” Mittens got that dreamy, lost look in her eyes. “She gave me food and milk, and scraps from the table. They tasted so good.”
Probably better-tasting than what he brought to her, he thought.
“She let me lay down in a soft place, and it was always warm. She used to rub my fur…right behind the ear and—”
“It sounds like you’d rather be there than here,” he snapped.
She didn’t answer, which was, in its own way, an answer. He turned to walk away and she pounced on him, wrapping her front paws around his neck. He could have easily fought her off but he didn’t. Besides, there was no danger. Mittens didn’t have claws in her front paws. The humans she had lived with had taken them away. They had brought her to some place and put her to sleep. When she woke up, her claws were gone. It was another example of how evil humans were. Even the little girl Mittens spoke of so lovingly had been part of it.
Mittens started licking his head. Her rough tongue against his fur felt good. It reminded him of being a kitten, and of his mother. He had many memories of his mother. He didn’t know his father, but he knew he must have been a fine hunter.
“You know this is where I want to be,” she said. “There’s no place I’d rather be than here with you and our kittens. My little girl never brought me mice like you do.”
“Is that all I’m good for, bringing you mice?”
“Of course not. You bring me birds as well.”
He knew she was joking, poking fun at him.
“I know these humans,” she said. “You have to trust me.”
“I trust you with my life,” he said. “It’s just that I don’t trust you with your life. You’re too valuable to lose.”
She squeezed him even tighter and licked his fur even harder. “For such a tough tomcat, you certainly are sweet.”
Here inside the den she could say things like that to him, but not in the junkyard, not in front of the other cats.
She started to purr. He loved the sound. It made him happy, so happy, that he made his own little purring sound. It was different from hers. She purred like a little motor. His was rough and rumbling.
“You know I only went up to look for food so you wouldn’t have to go out searching during the day when it’s more dangerous,” she said.
“It’s not that much more dangerous. Besides, I’m going to stay in the yard. I’m going to hunt in here.”
She stopped grooming him and turned to look him in the eyes. “Those rats are dangerous.”
“I don’t understand how you’re not afraid of humans twenty times bigger than you, but you are afraid of a rat.”
“It’s not a rat I’m afraid of,” she said. “There are dozens and dozens of them.”
“More than the paws of ten of us put together live here. Rats may live together, but they die alone.”
“Couldn’t you just wait until dark? Couldn’t you wait until the birds start to roost?”
“I can wait,” he said. “But the kittens can’t, and neither can you. You need to eat to nurse them well. Don’t worry. I’ll be safe, and I’ll be back. Now let go of my head.”
“And if I don’t?” she asked.
“Then you’ll have to groom me a little bit longer.”