Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!

Thomas was stomping his way across the bed, stomping across both Nils and me. Nils rolled away from spooning with me, leaving a cold expanse of air between us. Thomas stomped his way down the divide. Nils grumbled.

Then, Thomas came and perched on my side, his hind feet digging into my ribs, his front paws on my right shoulder, his whiskers tickling my cheek. Then he howled, right in my ear.

“My god, Thomas,” I whispered, “what is wrong with you?” That’s when I felt Amber’s hot breath on my face. I glanced at the alarm clock and blearily saw that it was 4:55 AM.

Thomas howled again in my ear and Nils rolled back to me and swatted at Thomas, trying to dislodge him from my side. But Thomas isn’t a tiny kitten anymore and has gained some weight. He doesn’t get moved too easily these days. Thomas did, however, take the hint and stomped off the bed, yowling all the way into the living room. Amber followed, whining.

“Damn cat,” Nils muttered. “What’s his problem?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I’ll go see.” I got up and followed the critters, padding softly in my bare feet. I didn’t throw on a robe, and it was a little chilly. I felt goose bumps along my arms as I rubbed them with my hands, trying to warm up a little.

Thomas was at the window, pacing back and forth, meowing. It wasn’t quite his howl, but softer, quieter, but started to rise in volume. I went up to the window and tried to pet him, but he wasn’t having it and scrunched himself out from under my hand.

“What’s wrong, Thomas,” I asked him. Amber was at my feet, snuffling around. Thomas stopped his prowling and hushed his meows and sat in the window, alert. That’s when I heard it: a distant yowl and an answering howl from two cats. I’ve heard this before, and I’m sure that if it wasn’t so far away I would soon be hearing spits and spats and yowls of pain, followed by the sound of a human yelling at the fighting cats to knock it off, maybe even followed by a thrown object shattering on the pavement.

The noise from the cats would subside for a while, but would start up again very shortly if the fight had not been decided. Cats are like that, fighting until one or the other loses. Then comes the yowl of two cats mating. The cycle of howling and yowling only stops when the female is impregnated. Yes, I’ve heard these sounds before and I know what Thomas wanted: he wanted to spread his seed all over the place. Problem is he can’t! He’s been fixed!

I picked him up and cuddled him to my breast, his warmth suffusing my chest, warming me. I put my head down to his and whispered, “I’m sorry, but you’re an indoor cat. I can’t let you out to go ‘catting around.’ I’m sure you could hold your own, but I don’t want a bruised, cut up kitty.” I squeezed him and he protested, and I let him down. I really didn’t want him all cut up by another, more mature cat. He’s just going to have to come to terms with what life has dealt him. Maybe in another year his hormones will settle him down. I hope.

Amber, on the other hand, was dancing around, whining, and I knew what that meant: she wanted to go out. Now, did she want to just sniff around, or did she have to go potty? I couldn’t read her mind, so I opened the door, admonishing her to come right back. If she’s going potty, she would come right back. Sniffing? Well, I might be waiting ten minutes for her, and I’d have to call her to get her back.

Just as I opened the door, Thomas scooted out between my legs and right between Amber’s feet and out the door. Amber followed like a shot, but Thomas made a quick turn that Amber couldn’t follow and Thomas was lost to my sight in the dark, early hours of the morning. Shit! Now I had to go chase her. At least Amber would tell me where he was!

If I took too long getting clothes on, I wouldn’t find him, so I just pulled on my boots and got outside naked, grabbing a flashlight on the way out. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Amber was at the far side of the garden, dancing back and forth. In the beam from the flashlight, I saw the glow from Thomas’ eyes, the quick dart of his head looking for an opening away from Amber. Amber, however, was just as quick and herded Thomas into the corner of the garden, keeping him against the fence. I’m grateful that Thomas hadn’t climbed the nearby cherry tree. Lord only knows where he would go if he got out on one of the limbs overhanging the fence.

I quickly got over to where Thomas was trapped, Amber still dancing back and forth. “Good girl,” I said, praising Amber. I scooped Thomas up and turned back to the house. I guess I hadn’t seen the new snowfall, and as I turned, both of my feet slipped on the ice beneath the new snow and down I went.

Somehow I managed to hold onto Thomas, but the flashlight went flying away from me and I was lying flat on my back, my breath knocked out of me.

Amber was dancing around me, as if asking if I was alright. I wasn’t. I was hurting and couldn’t breathe. I held Thomas tightly to me, afraid that if I didn’t, I wouldn’t find him again.

The house was dark because I hadn’t turned on the lights when I got out of bed, and the lights from the street were faint this far back in the yard. I couldn’t yell, because of the lack of breath. I also knew that it would be fruitless; Nils sleeps the sleep of the dead!

I was slowly getting my breath back, but I hurt all up and down my back. And, to add insult to injury, it was starting to snow again. I could feel the stuff melting as it hit my body. I didn’t understand that: I was cold; how could snow melt against something as cold as I felt?