Umm… I needed to write my 750words for the day. I made the mistake of asking Sammi, who showed me the following picture.
Don’t judge me.
“Lower the catnip.”
“Sir?”
“Lower it.”
“But, sir–”
“Did you hear me? Are you deaf? I told you to lower it, maggot!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
The soldier slowly, painfully lowers the package of pure bliss into the pit, and watches in terror as the little kittens dive for it, practically tearing each other to shreds. The poor things hadn’t had a meal in days.
“Now take them out.”
The soldier almost collapsed on the ground in relief. They were finally letting the kittens go! All they’d done wrong was stage a tiny, little, itty-bitty kitten protest against Meow Zedong’s ban of milk from the lunch menu. Everyone knew how much those kittens loved milk, and so no cat had been surprised when the protests started.
And then the Meow started commanding the older cats to punish the young ones.
At first, it was simple things — getting the up early, extra litter-box checks (a couple were caught with dirty litter boxes, and no one had seem any of them since) — but soon it developed into much more horrid things. They used laser pointers to guide the kittens into isolation chambers, where no one could pet them for weeks. They broke the kittens’ brushes, so they couldn’t even properly groom themselves. They took away meals, sometimes made the kittens work all day without getting a cat nap.
And now, this.
Catnip.
They were using the one thing that no cat — let alone a kitten — could resist.
But it looked like the Meow was finally letting the kittens go.
“Here you go, little ones. I really hope you’ve learned your lesson,” the solider muttered softly into the kittens’ ears. He’d been almost unable to torture them any further, and he was so relieved to finally be giving them a break that he could barely stand. The soldier had never been a hardened tomcat; he’d often gotten teased at cat school, and had developed a soft spot for weaklings. He’d joined the Catitary to become a stronger, adult cat; he’d never wanted to hurt poor, young kittens. They’d been drafted into the Catitary, and didn’t even want to be here, unlike him; he felt very sorry for them.
But now he could finally cut them some slack. He’s slip them some extra milk and tuna after dinner tonight, since he was their supervisor, and he’d be the one checking on them at night and turning out lights.
“I never said to release them, soldier.” The icy voice of the Meow issued from behind the soldier, and as the words sunk into his brain, the soldier froze over.
“…Excuse me, sir?”
“Are you questioning me? I said we weren’t finished here. Don’t unbind their paws.”
The soldier’s heart sunk. How could this cruel alleycat do this to these young kittens? Hadn’t they had enough? The milk had been one of the few things they could enjoy here in the Catitary. Why did he even take it away in the first place? Was it all a scheme to teach the other cats a lesson?
In a surge of anger, the soldier sliced through the ropes with his paws.
“Run!” he hissed to the kittens, and turned to face the Meow.
“Si, I can’t let you punish these kittens anymore! They’re only draft kittens, for Cats’ sakes! Milk was one of the few things they could look forward to in this place. Then you take away their catnaps, their grooming sessions, and torture them with catnip? Haven’t you had enough? I can’t do this anymore!”
The solider stood there, panting, his tongue lolling to the side like the dogs they were training to fight against. He felt mortified that he’d said such things to the Meow, but he just couldn’t help it; he knew he was right, that the Meow was going to far, and that someone had to stand up for the kittens.
If it meant that he’d be tortured alongside them, so be it.
If it meant he was sent back to his wife in shame, a broken cat, never to roam the streets as a confident tomcat, so be it.
If it meant he could be killed here, unable to see his wife or his own kittens ever again… so be it.
He wasn’t going to hurt anyone.
“…Congratulations, Mr. Purr. You’ve passed the test.”
“I understand, Sir Meow, I’ll accept any–”
Wait.
What?
Purr stared at the Meow in bafflement.
“I… You, they… It…. What?” Purr stuttered, staring at the Meow uncomprehendingly.
“You’ve passed the test, Mr. Purr. I’m going to award you with a commendation, and you’ll be promoted to Catmander. I wouldn’t be surprised if you make Cateral within the year. At ease. The kittens may go.”
The soldier stared in awe after the Meow as he left. Then his lips spread slowly into the widest grin he’d ever had.
“I bet Mrs. Mew will be so surprised!”
