WRITTEN FROM DUCHESS’ POINT OF VIEW
I sighed as me, Toulouse, Mari and Thomas walked away from the abandoned farm. We've been living like this since my mistress got a new butler and a new cat; a new everything. And moved to some place called New York. You would ask what happened to my other son? My mistress took him with her. It was very sad, yes, but we eventually got over it.
I jumped in surprise as my memories were kicked out of my head and replaced by Toulouse singing loudly, with Thomas as the backup vocals.
“We’re going to the party and staying up all night, nothing’s gonna stop us from winning the fiiiiiiiight!”
Mari rolled her eyes and speed-walked past them, and I suppressed a laugh. Toulouse and Thomas both acted so childish together, and were the perfect step-father step-son dynamic duo.
“Oh, you two are too much.” I said between laughing, and started to roll in the grass.
Thomas stopped to let Toulouse do a solo part and started to tickle my belly.
“Stop it Thomas!” I shouted. “You’re making it worse!”
“Aren’t I doing my job, baby?” Thomas inquired, and stopped tickling.
“Mom. Toulouse. Thomas. Hurry UP, we have to GO.” Mari growled, ruining the fun.
Mari had always been the snob since a few months ago, after we were abandoned. Ah, teenagers. I, too, was a teenage cat once. Maybe it was hormones? I’ll never know.
Padding after Mari, we all came into an alley way. Thomas was at home here of course, but the thought of an alley cat that wasn’t Thomas jumping out at us made me shudder with fear.
But that’s exactly what happened.
A cinnamon tabby cat jumped out at us and snarled. It had a black beaded necklace, and on it’s ear was a black rose clip with gold leaves that was studded with jewels and made of metal. It had a black and red checkered leg warmer piece on it’s ankle, and it looked awfully similar to Thomas.
Yet Thomas seemed happy to see this cat.
“Heeeey sissy.” Thomas called, padding toward the cat bravely as we all just sat there in awe. “It’s me; Thomas. Thomas O’malley.”
The cat blinked in sympathy and smiled. “Hi Tommy.”
Okay, this wasn’t right.
“Thomas, who is this?” I asked, padding up to stand beside him.
“This is Nutmeg; my twin sister.”
Toulouse and Mari looked at eachother with the faces of ‘Oh My God.’
Nutmeg O’malley nodded. “Greetings. You must be his wife, no?”
“Yes.” I replied. “My name is Duchess. Those two back there are Mari and Toulouse. They are my children, and they were kittens when I met Thomas.”
“The father they never had, I’m thinking.” Nutmeg inquired. She turned around. “Lilac! Jordan! Svetlana! We have visitors.”
Three kittens about the age of Mari and Toulouse jumped off the roof top (I jumped and Mari let out a tiny screech).
Svetlana was a tortoiseshell, a black cat with brown patches. Toulouse was in awe. Lilac was a calico, the opposite of a tortoiseshell, a white cat with brown and black patches. And Jordan was a gray tabby. Mari wasn’t impressed with Jordan’s fur.
“Meet Jordan, Lilac and Svetlana. My own kids.”
Thomas nodded to his nieces, and led me and Nutmeg away. I couldn’t help but to stay behind to hear Toulouse and Svetlana talking.
“Hi there. I’m Svetlana.”
“H-hi. I’m Toulouse...”
“I like that name!”
“Thank you, Svetlana. Um, hey uh, did you know you’re prettier then your sisters?”
“Thank you, Toulouse! Do you have a brother?”
“Yes. He got taken away.”
“Aww, that’s sad. But I bet you are cuter then him.”
“Heh- thanks.”
