MA had a different cat last year. Her name was Katya, but she died. Ami and I think Katya was kind of mean, because she wouldn’t write stories for MA on Saturdays in StoryADayMay.
We feel like, since we’re part of the blog, we can help with this challenge the way we did with the April A-to-Z Challenge.
We decided to take turns, and I drew first turn, so here’s my first story.
Two of a Kind
by Munchkin Allen
Munchkin slunk through the undergrowth of the alley. Once a large, handsome, orange tabby, he hated to catch sight of himself reflected in patio doors, broken glass, or rain puddles. Stumbling with hunger, he slipped into a back yard and scouted for stray food.
From the wall above his head, a contralto voice said, “You’re very thin.”
He looked up. A tortoiseshell face peered down at him, cheekbones prominent.
“You’re rather thin yourself, since we’re passing personal remarks.”
The house cat blinked. “What are you doing in my back yard?”
“Looking for food.”
“At the moment.” He poked at a napkin that had missed the trash can, but there was nothing in it. “I used to belong to the King of Indiana, but his evil vizier was jealous of me and used his magic to banish me to this far-off kingdom. Where am I, anyway?”
“Oh.” Munchkin sniffed around the trash can, but everything was spotless. He could smell cat food on the wind, but there was none where he could get to it!
“I’m a queen, myself,” the house-cat said. “Queen Amidala.”
“Pleased ta meecha, Your Majesty.”
Queen Amidala jumped down out of sight. From within the house, Munchkin could hear her shouting, “Father! Father! Father!”
He flattened himself as the patio door rumbled open, let out a human, and closed.
The human man squatted down and held out a hand.
“Well, look at you!” He went back inside and returned with a bowl of crunchy food. He put down the bowl and stood back.
Munchkin dived in.
“Wow, look at you go! Your name must be Munchkin!”
The next time the man opened the door, Munchkin slipped in.
He froze in shock: Seven other cats looked up from their food dishes!
One of them, the thin tortoiseshell female, came over and sniffed his ear.
“Youngsters, all of them,” she said. “Pushy and disrespectful.”
Her eyes looked wistful, full of mourning for her lost position of strength.
Amidala touched noses with him.
“I suppose you may stay,” she said.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
And they were a team to be reckoned with.
A WRITING PROMPT FOR ANIMALS: Who is your friend, pal, or partner?