Chapter Four

A cold, lonely night greets us, with no sign of Joseph. Once darkness begins to fall, I turn to the tribe, now six instead of five, and recommend that we sleep in our ‘dens’ to fend off the chill. Baxter begins to say something about how he doesn’t have a den, but a curt comment from Ruby silences him. Just wanting a little peace, I let it slide. Not tonight. There’ll be no more arguments, only sleep.

Although Sophia now has her own sleeping spot, she trots behind me as I pad over to a corner of the living room, finding my usual cardboard box. I’ve scoured the house for the most comfortable fabrics and collected old clothes and shreds of a pet bed, from a time when there was only one cat in the house: me.

I still remember those days, when the rooms were cleaned regularly and I’d follow Joseph out to the bin twice a day, every day. Nice memories, but that’s all they are. Reality is a lot different now.

Leaping into the box, I begin to circle and settle down, feeling a little body climb in and snuggle into the makeshift bedding. I can almost imagine Joseph being upstairs, lying in his bed with the dusty wooden frame and the yellow blankets, but knowing that he isn’t there is heart-breaking.

He should be here. We’re not meant to live in a house without an owner, not even for a night. It’s never been like that. The last time I was alone… well, those are difficult memories. Closing my eyes, I attempt to let sleep take me away to a world without worry, but, as can be expected, it drags me into a much darker place instead.

⁂

I wander down a concrete street, my paws aching, drenched in dirty rainwater. I must look a mess. Tangled fur, matted, grown far too long and sticking out in random tufts. My eyes up, alert, considering every passing human as a potential threat. My ears listening for dogs’ howls and rival cats’ hisses.

Danger lies around every corner; this is a world where I must tread carefully, otherwise my next step could be my last.

Cars rush past, huge metal beasts with no regard for my small, furry body, kicking up huge puddles as they roar and squeal on the road. The pavement isn’t much better. People, hoisting huge black umbrellas, march past, sometimes kicking in my direction, muttering words which are lost on the wind. The chill bites at my skin, but it’s been worse. I must continue on my journey.

As a young tom (or male cat), I still have energy in my limbs, some from youth and some from the knowledge that I am free. Free to wander these paved streets eternally, searching for safety which doesn’t exist. There is no home for me to return to at the end of the day and there never has been, not since I was a tiny kitten mewling at my mother’s side. Her warmth was home, until I grew too old to know it. Now, I am alone.

As a screeching motorbike rips down the road, I hiss, disliking the sudden sound, and turn away, spotting a small crack between two buildings. Too small for humans, but just right for a wet cat seeking some shelter. Finding hidden energy, I bound into the gap, squeezing further down until the sounds of the street are muffled, if not gone.

A vague hunger gnaws at my stomach, but I ignore it, settling down and curling up until I can almost imagine that the rain is my mother’s touch, her tongue gently licking my neck and assuring me that everything is okay. That I am safe.

It’s not true, but it’s a comforting thought to cling onto.

⁂

“Food.” The simple word wakes me, as I shake my head and open my eyes, blearily seeing a wide-awake Sophia looking down at me. “Hungry.”

“I know, Sophia, let’s get you some breakfast.” As if carried over from the dream, which was more like a vivid memory, my stomach growls. Maybe, just maybe, Joseph will be home. It’s possible. I silently beg the world to be kind for once and make it true.

Stretching out my legs, I pause for a moment, letting my senses return to their usual clarity. Sleepiness buzzes around in my mind, refusing to leave just yet. But I have to get up—I have to know.

Is Joseph back?

Hopping out of my den, I look around, ears trying to filter through the silence to find some sort of noise, some little morsel of hope. The armchair is empty, with only Tess sleeping at the foot of it, her eyes closed in peaceful sleep and her muzzle resting on her front legs. Baxter is nowhere to be seen, likely returned to his cupboard, or room as he likes to call it. I suppose ‘room’ does sound a lot more homely than ‘cupboard’.

But Joseph? There’s nothing. I sniff the stale air of the living room as Sophia makes her way out of my den, springing to the floor, small paws landing in a strange-smelling takeaway box. She takes a few steps towards the kitchen as I continue to desperately search the house with my senses, wandering to and fro. Nothing.

Disappointed, I turn back to her, motioning towards the kitchen with my head. It doesn’t feel right to wake Tess when she seems so content, so I follow the kitten quietly as she ventures into the adjoining room.

We pass through the doorway with less of the nervousness which usually accompanies a trip to the kitchen, despite the clear sight of the sleeping dog in the cupboard with the destroyed door, just to the side. I think discovering that Baxter isn’t the monster we thought he was has helped her and, if it wasn’t for Joseph going missing, it might’ve helped my nerves a little too.

Tucking those thoughts away, I direct Sophia towards the food bowls, which still have stale scraps of food left in them. It’s not great, but it’s better than nothing and I feel somewhat proud as she doesn’t stop to complain about the quality. Until Joseph gets back, we’re surviving, and there’s no luxury in that—I know this all too well.

The twins are curled up together, resting inside their den of heavy cat food cans. Their bodies twist and the ginger fur melds from one cat into the other, so that it is nearly impossible to tell them apart. If not for them having two heads, two tails and eight paws, I could mistake them for one large cat who really likes their food.

I take a moment to watch over them, wishing that Ruby could always be this peaceful. I have a bad feeling about her continuing resentment towards Baxter, even though I can understand her thought process.

We need harmony and togetherness, but I can’t force her to like and trust him and I’m not sure if she’ll ever be able to. Nevertheless, they’ll likely be hungry and need waking up, so I skip forwards a little, swatting the nearest body gently.

It makes a little, half-hushed mew, so I guess that I’ve woken Sapphire. She opens her eyes quickly, body slinking upwards and regarding me with a questioning silence. I know the question, and a part of me thinks that she already knows the answer.

I shake my head and her body lowers a little, tail sweeping downwards. I can’t lie to her, but, at this moment in time, I really wish I could, if only to avoid witnessing that reaction. How many more days will we have to ask the same question, with the same response? How many more nights will we spend alone? It’s better not to dwell on it, but I can’t help wondering.

With a quick nod towards the food bowls, I leave her to wake her sister, my heart saddening with every step. The reality that Joseph is gone is rapidly sinking in, but knowing that he has to come back keeps me strong. I need to be strong. For Sophia, but also for everyone else.

Nearing my food bowl, I face the ageing contents and begin to nibble, splashing it with water in an attempt to remove some of the dryness, my thoughts racing around in my mind.

Ruby needs someone to keep her temper in check, Sapphire needs someone to look to for guidance, Baxter needs stability to try and re-enter normal life and Tess needs a friendly face and a rational voice to see her through this odd time. Sophia needs a parental figure, unconditionally loving and teaching.

I need to fulfil all these roles and keep everyone together. If this tribe begins to break apart, with Joseph nowhere to be seen, I can’t even begin to imagine the consequences. Unofficial or not, I need to be a leader.

“Has the dog brought back Joseph yet?”

“Don’t be silly, cat, I never took him in the first place!”

“That’s Ruby to you, dog!”

“Well, my name’s Baxter, not dog, Ruby!”

No matter how hard being a leader is turning out to be, I think with a sigh, looking down at the pitiful food staring back at me from the cheap plastic bowl.