The Cats of Chaos

By Erick Flaig

When Amylynn's cat Pharaoh disappears, she and her new friend Zack will risk anything to get him back...while Pharaoh discovers the life of a feral cat is not what he imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erick Flaig
• Release date: Apr 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311823267

Erick Flaig

Due to the sensitive nature of the novel, the author is currently in the Witless Protection Program.

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The Cats of Chaos

Erick Flaig

Smashwords Edition 

Copyright 2015 Erick Flaig

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The Cats of Chaos

Chapter One

Pharaoh lay in the ivy that grew inside the window, absolutely bored. There was nothing to do. Five months old, and already life was stale. He yawned; a big, wide yawn that showed all his teeth, his scratchy tongue, and a good bit of his throat. He stood and stretched, front paws way out in front, head down, and rear end high in the air, and then reversed the process. Having done all that, he tucked his front paws under his chest, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

Pharaoh, of course, was a cat. He was a kitten, really, for he was only five months old. He had come to live in the blue house on the corner of Longfellow and Tennyson Avenues exactly three and one-half months before. The memory of the farm where he was born was fading from his mind. It seemed like he had always been in this blue house with its high windows and narrow doors, its rumbling furnace, and the ivy that grew both inside and outside the living room window.

He was a dark gray color, almost a steel blue, with white feet and a white mouth and nose. He strutted a bit, especially when Belle, the other cat in the house, was around. He liked Belle. She was older than he was, and she was so elegant, so polished, that sometimes he felt like a bumpkin around her.

Belle strolled by Pharaoh’s sleeping place. It was not her favorite place, but she knew Pharaoh liked it, and she could usually find him laying amid the ivy. Pharaoh, she said, nuzzling at his hear. Pharaoh, wake up!

Huh? Pharaoh said. He didn’t really open his eyes, but he turned his head toward Belle. What is, Belle?

It’s those outside cats again. Come away from the window, where they can’t see you.

Pharaoh opened his eyes. Why? He kept his paws stuck beneath his chest, refusing to budge.

They’re making a racket, and the mistress is going to be upset.

Pharaoh looked at the older cat as though she had grown another tail. I’m not hiding from the outside cats, he said.

It’s not hiding. It’s just helping the mistress.

Pharaoh closed his eyes. No. Let them yowl.

Pharaoh!

I don’t care. This is my spot. Let them move.

You know they won’t.

Pharaoh rolled over onto his side, with his back to the window.

They don’t bother me. I’m not moving.

Belle paced back and forth. Pharaoh, listen to them out there!

Pharaoh’s ears flicked backward, then forward again. Yep, that’s them. Sounds like three or four of them.

The two cats had been having the same argument since Pharaoh had come to live with Belle and her mistress, Amylynn. At first, he had been quick to obey the older cat; within a few weeks, he stopped listening to her. Pharaoh had grown to the same size as Belle, and he was no longer intimidated by her.

Outside the large window, which was covered with ivy both inside and out, three feral cats prowled the yard, the porch, and the tree. They were Spike, Spook, and Speck. All three were tomcats. Spike was a black tabby cat, so dark that his markings were hardly visible. Spook was an albino, all white, and he moved like a ghost among the shrubs and bushes. The two of them looked like opposing chess pieces when they passed each other. Speck was a small gray tomcat who had a black streak down his back, and he had lost his half of his tail in a near-death experience with a lawnmower. He jumped whenever a car, a person, or a dog went by. Spike, Spook, and Speck called to each other in a sort of code that the house-cats did not understand; they discussed food, water, and danger.

Pharaoh re-positioned himself among the ivy, looking out. He could see two of the three cats; it took him a few moments to locate Speck. It’s those same three, Belle. Your boyfriends.

Hardly! said Belle. I won’t even look at those flea-infested scalawags, and I don’t appreciate your insinuations.

Insinuations, said Pharaoh, carefully. I don’t know that word.

It means to imply without actually accusing.

Oh. Well, then I am not insinuating, said Pharaoh. I’m saying, your boyfriends are out there, singing for you.

I never! said Belle. She turned, swished her tail angrily, and melted from off the windowsill. She stopped and looked back at Pharaoh with a glare. And I never will!

That, I believe, said Pharaoh. He turned back to the window and watched the three feral cats. That’s the life, he said, speaking to his own reflection. Out there, in the real world, finding your own food. Not getting it from a box, dumped in a bowl. Finding your own water, and your own place to sleep. Being your own cat, not a lap toy for the mistress.

The mistress scooped up Belle as the cat went by where she was sitting. Belle immediately dropped all of the bones from her body, becoming limp. She was putty in the young girl’s hands. Amylynn pressed her warm fur against her pale face and smiled as Belle began to purr. I love you, Belle, she said. She hugged the cat close. Belle choked back a gasp. Sometimes the hugs were a little, a little, well, intense. But she loved the mistress, and she could do anything she wanted. Anything.

Belle purred, and Amylynn carried her upstairs to her bedroom.

It was on the second floor, facing the large maple tree in the side yard. The room boasted several large windows that let in plenty of light, even with the large tree shading that side of the house. Amylynn’s parents had painted her room in a pale blue to match the sky the day she was born. Her father had died before her first birthday, and her older brother, Clifford, had been the man of the house before he turned ten years old.

Now he was twenty-one, and had joined the police force.

Amylynn lay across her bed, holding Belle high in the air. The queen cat sighed. Being held straight up, with her legs unsupported, was not very comfortable. But Belle loved Amylynn so much she allowed it. Pharaoh would have squirmed and put out his claws. Belle waited. She knew Amylynn was not strong enough to hold her at arm’s length for very long.

Amylynn lowered Belle onto her bed, stroking the cat’s long back and up her tail. I wonder what you think about, Belle, she said. Belle closed her eyes and ran her back along Amylynn’s hand.

Belle stopped her rubbing, and looked at Amylynn, studying her face as though she were going to take a test on it. She was puzzled by her mistress’ words; it was a mystery to her why she and Pharaoh could talk freely, and both of them could understand the humans in the house, but the humans could only guess about what the two cats tried to tell them. It made Belle feel superior, and at the same time, slightly ridiculous. Forced to rub a cardboard box when hungry! Forced to meow when the water dish was empty! And the litter box issues since Pharaoh had moved in were unspeakable.

Belle arranged herself on the coverlet. Pharaoh bounded in, running through the door, across the bed, under the