text: Gentle Readers: No need to tell me there are grammatical errors. They are deliberate. \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* The next evening, I take Jerome to Devotion's place. She made breakfast. It's sitting there on the table. Three plates. "Sweety-pookums," she says to the kiddo, "why don't you come sit between Daddy and me?" She pats the seat of a chair. Jerome's just happy to be anywhere, so he bounces over to the table and scrambles up on the chair. I sit in the chair closest to the door. "Oh, don't wait for me," she says. "Just dig in, fellas." She goes into the bedroom, and I hear some rummaging sounds. I ain't hungry. Well, yeah... I'm hungry for food, but I ain't hungry for whatever else she's cooking up. I ain't waiting for her to come out with a rose in her teeth. Quickly, I grab a couple pieces of bacon. "Jerome - eat those eggs for me." I say that low. In a louder voice, "Sorry I can't stay. Gotta business call to make." I high-tail it out of there before she can play any more mama-and-dada games. Early for my shift, I get to Packo's and go inside for a couple minutes. "Early, ain't you?" says Pony, the barkeep. "Yeah." Packo comes out of his office, his face all twisted in an angry snarl. "Hey. Billboard," he says. "Come in here." I don't dawdle. In Packo's office there are five cats and a rat. I don't recognize none of them. Probably out-of-towners. "These guys need some muscle down at the docks," Packo says to me. "There's five mackerels in it for you, if you give them the muscle they need." The rat says, "There's some dogs been nosing around. We need them gone. Can you do that?" That last part is meant for me. "How big are these dogs, and how many?" I ask. Again. I ain't stupid. "Pack of dogs. Six of them. Two of them is small. Chihuahuas. Another three is rat terriers." Now I understand why the rat's all jacked up about the dogs. "The last one's a beagle." I hate beagles. I got my reasons. "Yeah. I can keep those dogs at bay for you. Make it six mackerels, and I'll make sure they never come back." "Deal!" the rat squeals. I don't let it show, but that negotiation helps solve the fins and tail I'm gonna owe Stacks. My pappy taught me when I was young: don't ever let them know you're getting a good deal - they can take it back. I follow the out-of-town cats and rat to the docks. The rat runs along a mooring rope to a beat up boat. One of the cats, a gray tabby, points out a rundown building across the way. "They come from thataways every night. Six dogs." His hair's on end. "Show me exactly where," I tell him, "or I can't do my job. That means making sure they ain't bothering you no more, so show me." Even though he's shaking, the gray tabby takes me to the windows where the dogs come out every day. There's a broken pane in one of the windows, low enough and big enough for the beagle to jump right through. I give the window the once over - I don't wanna get tore to pieces by glass falling on me. It takes me only a minute to cypher out the panes of glass and the stresses. There's six panes of glass, three to each side of the window, all framed by wood. Six separate pieces of glass. I look till I'm satisfied. It seems like all the other panes are solid for now, even with that corner out of the lower right pane. Now to take a look inside the place. It's a smelly snore-party in there. Six dogs laying all over creation sawing logs. One of the chihuahuas is barking in his sleep - it sounds like he's saying, "Mick, Mick, Mick," with his lips closed. Not a one of them budges. Each one's stretched out or curled up on his own. I wouldn't be able to tiptoe between them, if they was all piled up like puppies. Strung out like that, I got plenty of room to stroll. Ring leader's off to one side. Seems kind of strange, but good luck for me. Take out the leader, the rest of the pack falls. I inch around. This dog's got elephant ears. He shifts his head in his sleep, pointing his nose straight up, and his tongue rolls out his mouth till it touches his ear. Slobber all over. I hate beagles. I take a little jump and land hard on the soft part of his gut. All the wind goes out of him - he don't even have a bark left. His back legs are jerking, as he tries to get his breath back, so I don't let him. I give him another pounce right in the soft part, and all that comes out of him is a thin wheeze. He rolls over, but that ain't smart. I get on his back, and rake at his eyes while he tries to get away from me. He gets breath enough to squeal. Squealing and running - he can't see the broken window. I got my fingers in his eyes. Well - claws in his eyes. I take my chance and bite into one of his ears, then the other - all the while still raking his eyes. More squealing. He runs nose first into the wall. The other dogs are awake and hanging back. Yeah, chihuahuas are scrappy - but just with other dogs. Pound for pound, they can't match a cat. The beagle stops running and stands still with his ass dragging low. There's a puddle under him. I'm gonna have to watch it when I get off him. I don't like my paws pissy. I lean forward and say: "These ain't your docks, pal. Move along and stay gone, or there's worse coming your way. Take your mutts with you." Jumping off, I give him another dig with the back claws. I take a look at his face. He's gonna have to find his way around by smell for a while. I go back out to the docks. The rat is sitting on a piling, tail curled around him. It looks dainty - but I know it's just to keep his tail close. He works with cats, and they know where their pay comes from - but they're still cats. And he's a rat. "Willie, bring them mackerels!" he yells in a high-pitched voice. He talks kind of funny. Even for a rat. That same gray tabby comes out onto the deck of the boat. "Got'em, boss," he says. Willie walks over to hand me a bunch of mackerels. Just like that. No carton. No can. No paper sack. Just a bunch of cold fish. It ain't nice to count your fish in front of others, but this is business. I take a quick look. "Hey. You gave me seven mackerels," I say. "The deal was for six. I got an extra one here." "Yeah. About that. You did a good job. Willie told me how you took out the big one. So you get a little extra. And maybe sometime we get another deal." He looks me up and down. "What do you do good?" "Bouncing. Bruising. Heavy lifting." It looks like he's asking for more, so I take a chance: "I blow the sax some." His tiny eyebrows shoot upwards. "You do music, and you count good, too. Yeah... I think we can deal again. Billboard - that's your name?" "I'm Billboard." "Tikus. A pleasure." I repeat the name: "Tekkous." "Yeah. 'Tikus'. Like saying 'tea' and 'coos'. It's Malay. I came from Borneo." "Nice to meet'cha." I remember my manners when they matter. I'm done with that job in time to get back to Packo's. It's a slow night. Nobody needs tossing. Thing is, I think they smell the dog blood on me and figure I ain't one to mess with tonight. Around dawn, I pick up my pay and head toward home. I get to Devotion's place a little before dawn. I got enough time to pick up the kiddo, take him home, and see that he beds down good before I go meet Stacks. But it seems like Devotion's got plans. "Oh, don't take my little Pookie-Poo just yet. He just fell asleep." Jerome's curled in a ball in the middle of Devotion's bed, like a golden buckeye in a field of snow. I reach out and poke the what-d'you-call-it fancy blanket. Doo-vay. It's filled with feathers. My kid, laying in a feather-bed. "If that don't beat all," I say. Devotion's eyes are boring straight into mine when I turn to tell her I have to meet somebody. "Hurry back, Daddio," she says. I double-step it to the library. Stacks is sitting next to the stone lion in front of the door. "I like the comparison," Stacks says. "Did you find the dope on Flattery Cattery?" "Yes. It's out in the boondocks. Remote. Unsavory past with the law. I got the address on this envelope, and I drew a map on the other side." Stacks reaches out the envelope to me. "Bill," he says, "this is big. You need extra paws on this one. I'll throw in with you, and I can get a couple other cats together - if you say so." "You're all right, Stacks," I say handing him all the fins and tails off the mackerels. I'm flush, so I don't mind sharing some extra with Stacks. "That's mighty decent of you, Bill." He looks me in the eye. "You mind, me and my pals are here to help if you need us." "Just casing the place for starters," I assure him. The map is easy to follow, and it doesn't take long to get out there. I take the back roads and cut through a woods. Flattery Cattery used to be a farm, looks like. Then it looks like it was something else, like a factory. Furniture factory. Now, it's just a broke-down old building that smells like ruin. I nose around, and I don't see nobody. Not a soul. There is laughter from somewhere. There's an old house on the grounds - it's in better shape - and a beat-up shed. I creep closer. There's a big bunch of humans in the house. No cats to be seen in the house. Not even on the table. So I turn to the shed. The shed is full of cages, beat-up rusty cages with wire floors. It smells like a hundred cats pissed on the floor. I pull out my penlight. There are eyes in every single cage. I count at least ten pairs of eyes. "I'm gonna get you outa there," I promise them. I sit down for a think, because this is a much bigger thing than I ever thought before. The sun rises, shining through the shed door. Some of those cats won't make it past noon, I think. And there are way more pairs of eyes than I counted by my penlight. "I'm gonna get some help." I know my words sound lame. Not even one of the captive cats says nothing. Not even, "Hurry back," or "We're saved". Not even, "We don't believe you." They got nothing to say to me. I run back the way I came, hoping Stacks can make good with his promise. As I am coming around the bend in the forest path, I see Stacks with a bunch of cats following him. "I came to meet you halfway," Stacks says. "And these cats?" "They're coming to help." I lay it out for them right then and there. Three of the cats will go into the house and keep the humans busy, chase around the table and stuff. Two will scout the abandoned building to make sure nobody's there. Stacks and the other five cats, are going to free the poor souls in the shed. "Some of them need water or food right away," I tell them. "So you scoot with them, as many as you can get to follow you. Maybe you gotta carry some." We split up once we get to the cattery. I stay in the middle where I can see everything and catch whatever I need to, go where they need me. The cats in the house stir up a ruckus. One high-tails it across the kitchen table, and then out through the dining room and up the curtains, bringing the curtain rod down. Another climbs up the outside of the house and goes in an open window, yowling at the top of his lungs. They had a dog in there. The third cat goes through the screen on the screendoor - then jumps on the dog and rides him, both him and the dog shrieking. A china teapot goes sailing off the china cabinet and crashes. It's a three-ring circus in there. Humans running around like ants when their hill gets stirred. Even though one of the humans is swinging a broom, she won't touch those cats. I have to laugh a little when the broom gets caught in the ceiling fan. Two of the blades go flying, the brooms in pieces, and the lady is screaming blue bloody murder. I chance a look at Stacks and the others by the shed. They're bringing out cats and kittens. Stacks has two kittens in each arm. They look about Jerome's age. All golden. Some a little sickly. Stacks and his pals are stashing the cats in the woods. One big cat stays to watch over them, the others go back for more. About that time, the two cats from the shed come back. "Hey, Bill," the one says. "There's nothing doing in there. What do you want us to do?" "Go help the cats in the shed." I go back to looking at the house. Not one human has come out yet. They're still chasing cats. Losing, but still chasing. After a couple trips more, the shed is empty. I don't know where to take them. I sit to have a think. They need a place. A place they can be safe. A place they can come and go. A place with water and food. That place by the docks, I decide. I'll find a better way in and out, but for now - that's where they can call home. I motion Stacks over. "Yeah, Bill?" "Take all them cats down to the docks. You go - just yourself - and find a rat name of 'Tikus'. Like saying 'tea' and 'coos'. Tell him Billboard sent you. You're looking for the place the dogs was staying. Take all them cats to the dog place. You gotta go through a broken window, so mind nobody gets hurt. You have any problems, come back here and let me know." Stacks gave me a toothy grin. "Sure thing, Bill. What are you doing?" I fixed him with a stare. "I'm gonna get any human who thinks they're gonna split without paying for what they done, and then I make them pay." He salutes me. I have to smile. Nobody ever done that to me before. I turn back to the house. One of the cats is looking out the window. I give him a wave. Suddenly, all three cats come streaking out the house. One out an upstairs window, one out the kitchen window, one out the door. Soon as they get close, I tell them to help Stacks get the cats and kittens to the docks. I head to the house. Inside, the lady is sobbing. Hard, racking sobs. I jump up in the kitchen window in time to see her throw a cup at one of the other humans. The cup just misses his head. I didn't notice before, but all the rest of the humans is little kids. She's screaming at him, all that human blah-blah-blah, but I get the gist. She don't want him around no more because of all the cat business. He says blah-blah-blah. It sounds like he don't want stay anyways. Like you can't throw me out if I leave first. They bring the argument to the kitchen. Suddenly, it's so clear what they're saying. I can't believe I'm getting every word - "You're a crumb, George. I always knew it, but I stayed for the kids." "Shut up, Sheila. It's not like you turn down anything the Cattery's dough got you - " "That's just not so!" She pulls off a ring and threw it at him. "There's your ring. Bought with the dirty money from your cattery!" The ring clatters to the floor. He pulls his fist back, and she shrinks, her kids cluster behind her wailing. None of them see me coming. I ride his right arm as it starts toward the lady. I hold on while he flaps like a chicken. No way I'm flying off, because I have my claws all the way in. All the way to the quick. When the left hand comes close enough, I sink my teeth in. Pulling his hand away only rips longer tears in his hand. That, plus one of my fangs catches on something, and he can't pull no further. When I let go of his hand, he quick pulls both hands back to the sides, and I go for his head. I bite him as many times and places as I can. His forehead, his nose, his eyebrow, his cheek, his nose again - only harder. When he puts up a hand to pull me off, I turn and bite the hand. After enough biting and scratching, he gets his hands in between me and his face. I let him protect his face, because that right there means I won. On his knees, blubbering, he begs for help. I step off to the side. I figure I freed the cats and took some revenge. Maybe the lady has the floor. She hits him in the head with a fry pan. For a second, me and the lady, we lock eyes. I understand he's been doing her and the kiddos wrong. She understands the cats in her house were part of the plan. She puts the pan down. It's not always the size of the cat. It's not always the size of the fight. Sometimes, it's all about the heart. A human ten times my size who picks on kittens - he don't have a heart. A full growed human who picks on little kids - he don't have a heart. All kittens and kids should get is mother's milk and love. I give the lady a nod and jump back out the window. At a fast trot, I take the path through the woods, and the back roads. Pretty soon, I'm at the docks. No cats to be seen roaming around. I look toward Tikus' boat. Nobody on deck. I look toward the building with the busted window. As I get closer, I see cats and kittens inside. One of the cats Stacks brought is standing guard by the window. "Hey! It's Bill," he says. I come through the window and see where Stacks is. "You wanna tell me who everybody is?" I go over to him and ask. "They're my littermates," says Stacks. "There are twelve of us, but Recall is estranged." Pointing to each, Stacks says, "That's Swipe and Trace next to him. Atlas is there. Verso over there. Carrel is the dainty one with the mean eyes. (I love you, sis.) Fiche is there, Browser over there. Concordance is here, and Flyleaf is behind her. Abstract is... Where's Abstract?" Carrel says, "Behind you, Einstein." Stacks turns and points, so I turn to look. "Hiya," says Abstract. He's looking sideways at us. Stacks says, "We just all stick together-" "-Except Recall!" says Swipe. "-since we were small. We were born under the library steps. I stay around here, but we always know how to get through to each other when we need to." Carrel says, "Our father was Festschrift, and mother was Fine." Festschrift and Fine. Sounds like lawyers. I shake my head. "I wanna thank all of you's," I say. "I didn't know how big this was until I got there. All of you's did a great job. Everybody's safe and sound." "You're a good leader," says Browser. Stacks asks, "How did it end in the house?" "I cleaned his clock. After I pealed his face, the lady beaned him with a pan. He only got what was coming to him. He was farming cats," I tell them. "Speaking of. I got a kitten who came from there. I went there to save his mama. Lemme go get him, and let them figure it out." By the time I get to Devotion's, I'm dog-tired. I knock on the door a few times. She must be that tired too. She comes to the door and drags it open. "Oh, it's you, big boy," she says. "Come in. How come so early in the day? I'll get Jer-Jer." When I tell Jerome I want him to meet some cats, Devotion wants to come along. "It's kind of rough," I warn her. "Some of these cats is sick and need tending." "I'm coming along, you hear that?" I hear it. All three of us go to the docks. Before I can stop him, Jerome is running fast as he can, and he pops through the window. When I get there, Devotion steps in front of me to go through the window, and then I can finally come in to see if I did what I promised. Mewing loud, Jerome is all over the four ginger kittens with crusty eyes. They're kissing and crying. I kind of get a tear in my eye. These poor kiddos needed each other. I wanna wipe my eye, but my hand bumps into Devotion. She's all bundled up close to my side. I feel a couple claws in my back as she flexes her fingers. "That is so sweet, Billboard. So sweet," she says. "Is their mama here?" When I ask them, the kittens just start crying again. One gets a sob right in the middle of his words. "She's gone. She got dead." "Those poor babies!" Devotion is on all fours snuggling with those kids. She kisses them and looks up at me. Who, me? I have to admit those are some cute little kiddos, and Devotion ain't hard on the eyes. This is more than the little I want. But they're babies. All they should get is kindness - they can't get no mama's milk. "You wanna name them?" I ask Devotion. "Nothing cutesy-tootsie. Good names. Real names." She says, "This is Charlie. This is Duke. This is Dave. This is Ella." Good names, all of them. Charlie Parker, Duke Ellington, Dave Brubeck, and Ella Fitzgerald. I can't help the smile stretching from ear to ear. Devotion's eyes are big as pennies. All five kiddos are nestled together around her. I didn't think she was the type to be a mama, but it looks good on her. I look around the joint. It needs some spiffing up, but I can handle that. I ain't afraid of hard work. I look at Stacks and his littermates. There's brain power there, and they ain't afraid of nothing. I stand up straight. I got this. "Welcome to Bill's Boarding House, a home for cats and kittens in need.