Children of Bast Read online

  “We are my maama and my sister, like I told you before. You need to pay attention, hey.” She cuffed meon my shoulder. “Maama died a few months ago, and Lamis, my sister, didn’t want to leave.”

  “Maybe she’s not the street type. What about the spirits and ghosts?” She finished washing and laid next to me, wrapping her lovely tail around herself.

  “I don’t know. They talk about holy this and holy that. God comes up quite a bit. What is god, anyway, and holy? Something to do with holes?”

  “I don’t know much about god, but I do know we were gods once.”

  “Yeah, you told me and when Maama was sober she talked about it.”

  She ignored me and went on. “Long, long time ago, in someplace a long ways away from here, we were gods. My maama didn’t know where we came from, but she told me our god was called Bast. She used the word raeed.”

  “A leader. That’s what raeed means.”

  “So, you know a word I don’t know. She got up and faced me. “My maama said the bašar at that place created a eikonigow for Bast who had a body like a mollie bašar and a head like an amait.” She flopped on the floor and stared at me. “Gaylord, I have a lot to teach you.” She yawned. Incredible teeth and the prettiest tongue I’d ever seen. Her ears flattened when she yawned, and she squinted her eyes shut. She went on. “My maama said the bašar loved us so much that when we died, they’d shave their eyebrows because they were sad. How’s that for weird? And, if someone killed us for any reason, the killer bought it. I think she said they cut his head off. And, get this: after we died, they wrapped us in some kind of cloth and buried us. What about that?”

  “What’s a goddess?”

  “A mollie god.”

  “Wonder if she was fixed.

  “Please shut up and listen. You might learn something and silence the rattling in your head.” She signed, licked her chest, and went on. “Bast protected a'maar after the Time of Owls when it’s dark outside.”

  “Whoa. That’s sounds freaky. How do you protect a'maar?”

  “I said shut up. I’ll knock you into next Time of Owls if you don’t.”

  “Okay, grouch.”

  She slammed a paw on my tail and stared at me like you do sometimes, Chubby, then said, “They made lots of different eikonigow of her, maybe like those eikonigow you saw on the table or that thing on the wall at the cemetery.”

  “Seminary.”

  “Whatever. They bowed down to them, my maama told me. They gave them gifts, like perfume and stuff. They even killed animals for Bast, thinking she got off when she smelled the meat burning. Creepy, huh? So, that’s the story. Now you know.”

  “I knew about Bast, but you told me a lot more. Very interesting. Was that place your maama talked about the only place where amai were found?”

  “Dunno. Maama didn’t get that far. Listen, I need to sleep before we go out again. Wanna curl up together? Get’s kind of drafty in here.”

  Oh, wow, Chubby. It’s impossible to tell you how I felt with that invitation. My teeth itched. I’m not lying; my teeth itched.

  “And, look,” she said, standing over me now, “if you have feelings you don’t understand, Gaylord, I understand them, and if you get some kith-brained idea that I’m easy, forget it. I’ll slice you up like so much liver. I’m not ready and won’t be for at least another three weeks. Understand?”

  “Not really.” But, my attention came together like clumping litter as she stood there.

  “Oh, brother. Now I gotta tell you about that, too?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Let’s just get comfy and stop talking.” She dropped down and rolled to her side.

  “Belly to belly, Bombay boy? Oh, kissing’s all right. I like kissing. But that’s all. Dig?”

  I crawled over and put my belly next to hers. We wound our tails together before kissing and washing each other’s faces. Sleep swallowed me whole.

  Chapter 4

  The cat could very well be man's best friend but would never stoop to admitting it. Doug Larson

  Over the next few days Adele taught me how to take care of myself on the street. Never trust a kilaab, she told me, which was new to me because I’d never met one.

  “That screaming, whining, barking lump of filthy red hair over by the door of the pizza parlor is a mongrel of some kind. Kalb are retarded, stink like rotten meat and bark constantly. They’ll bark at nothing, or themselves, or their leg, which they think is attacking them because it’s scratching their ears. And there is nothing between those ears except an eternal whistling breeze where a brain should be. And, they’ll eat anything including their own vomit, their own khara and ours. They’re constantly ramming their noses in each others butt holes trying to figure out whose is whose. Oh, and did I say that kalb are worthless, nature’s biggest mistake? Sorry. I meant to.”

  Mongrel meant nothing to me, but when she said that they eat amai, I got it. She jumped to a dumpster.

  “You know about dumpsters, but never eat anything out of here that smells like your khara.”

  “My what?”

  “Khara. That stuff you bury whenever you go.”

  “Oh, that’s what my maama called aha.”

  “Call it what you want, but if anything smells like that, don’t eat it. It could be khara because some amai don’t care where they drop it. Here, I’ll show you.”

  She dug to the bottom of the dumpster and came up with something that looked like a huge hairball.

  “Take a whiff.” She pushed it under my nose and I gagged.

  “What is that?” I rubbed my nose and washed my face.

  “Who knows, but don’t eat it. If it doesn’t kill you, you’ll get the throbbing hunches.”

  “Throbbing what?”

  “It’s pain in your gut that throbs like crazy and makes your back hunch up all the time.”

  “Oh. A belly ache.”

  “Not just a belly ache. A pain that’ll make you wanna die. Trust me; I’ve been here a long time.”

  “Okay.”

  After we found a sack with my first half-eaten piece crunchy meat, Adele proceeded to tell me about herself.

  “I was like you, once,” she said between bites. “Lived in a house, what you call an apartment, and was bored so bad I slept most of the time under a bed. Oh, I got food. Good food, I was petted, bathed—something I hated like poison–and cuddled. I sometimes got taken to some awful mollie bašar in a white coat that I hated. I wore a collar with a bell and had a lovely litter box that cleaned itself. How, I don’t know.”

  “So, you were kidding about going to where I used to live?”

  “Yeah,” she grinned. “Just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing.”

  “Those mollie bašar in white coats?” I said while she munched. “Harriet called them vets, whatever that means. I hate vets. They stick you with sharp things, open your mouth, and make you gag, probe your belly until it fills with gas and stick things up your butt. I give them a time, hey. I mean, when I’m finished, so are they.”

  “Mess yourself?”

  “To the max. Makes ‘em puke.” I went back to eating. I really didn’t like the yellow crud on the meat, but the other stuff was tangy and sweet.

  “Anyway, I had a good life,” Adele continued. “I could even roam the back yard, which was pretty nice. I could eat grass, flowers and leaves. I could even drop my khara in the garden without going to my box. But, I was numb from boredom. The attention my pet parents, as they called themselves, was thorough but brief. Know what I mean?’”

  “Yeah. Pick you up, cuddle and scratch your ears, sloppy kiss, put you down and forget about you for hours. I know what you’re talking about.” I’d finished eating and started to wash, which always ends my ability to talk.

  “You got it. So, one day I’m outside, sniffing around, and I don’t know why because I had scent-marked the entire territory and nothing had changed, except for a few rain damaged spots that I took care of
. Suddenly, as I rubbed my jaw against a post, I got the strong scent of another amait. When I looked up, there he was peeking though the slats at me. Now, I knew about other amai because of going to the . . . what you call it?”

  “Vet.”

  “Vet. But this was the first amait I’d seen loose. I was shocked.”

  “You saw other amai at the vet, didn’t you?”

  “Nope. Heard ‘em, smelled ‘em, but never saw them. You saw other amai at the vet’s?”

  “No. They came by the apartment. Never went out to them.” I finished washing and sprawled out to catch some sun. Adele came over and flopped beside me.

  “Although, come to think about it, I was jolted outta my wits once when I saw an amait out the window,” I said. “At the vet I was a snarling mass of teeth and spit, so she never let me get away. If I went completely nuts, she’d plop me in this tiny basket with holes in the top and cover it with an old shirt. And there I’d be for hours until she decided I was sane again. Hated that thing. I sat as far back as I could and pouted and glared at everyone who looked in. I hissed my guts out.”

  “I love hissing,” Adele said and turned on her side facing me. “The look on their face is priceless. It’s like they’re afraid we’ll attack and rip and tear. I mean, we’re little and fuzzy, but they’re scared we’ll kill them.”

  “I would rip and tear if I had a chance. The worst thing about seeing a vet is cleaning myself later. What a sickening task.”

  “I know exactly what you mean. But, I love how they gag and run from the room. I plaster my ears against my head and hiss away, and then let off a stream of khara that smears all over everything in site—I can clear a room in seconds. Love it, loved it, loved it.”

  We laughed so hard we couldn’t stand up.

  Wiping tears from my eyes, I said, “So, go on. You’re in the back yard, lucky amait, and you see this other amait peeking in.”

  “Right. So, I run to the fence and shout, ‘Eih axbar?’

  “He—it turned out he was a tom—turns to me and says, in a broken kind of language, ‘Uh, wazzup? Like the sky, hey, or maybe a tuyuur who’s lived long enough. Who are you?’”

  “Just wanna talk.” I explained who I was and what I was doing there, so he sidles over to the fence and pokes his nose between the slats. We nuzzled, like we’re supposed to do when we meet other amai, and began to purr. Ralph, his name was Ralph, which to me was weird. I mean Ralph is a bašar name, not an amait.”

  “What about Gaylord?”

  “Told you I liked it. Anyway, he was a street amait. Always been a street amait. Born on the street. A tough guy, lemme tell you. Scruffy! Looked like a worn out broom.

  “Anyway, he told me what his life was like and I told him mine, which he thought was sick because I couldn’t roam around like he was doing. But he did like the part about the food. He wasn’t keen on bašar, but he could put on a good show, he said, if they had something he wanted, like food. He told me how he’d meow, roll over and let them rub his belly for a few seconds until he could snatch the food and nip them before he ran like hell. Said he never drew blood, but they were so surprised they’d jump back, let him go.”

  “Sounds like a pretty clever guy,” I said.

  I met an amait like that, Chubby. A best friend. I’ll tell you about him later.

  Adele went on: “Really clever. So, after listening to Ralph, I decided to jump the fence, something I knew I could do all along, and go with him. I looked at it this way: I could always come back. My pet parents would miss me, and if I didn’t like it, I’d go home, meow, roll over and get back in without a hitch.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I figured when I escaped. Bašar are so easy it’s disgusting.”

  “Meow and they melt. I’m so glad we amai don’t meow to each other. So stupid when rubbing heads is much more sensual.” She got up and rubbed my head with hers. “Mmm. So, good,” she said with a quick lick to my nose.

  “Okay, you and Ralph . . .by the way, he ever tell you his amai name?

  “Yeah. Some weird name that I don’t remember. Ralph came to him when he heard a bašar call another bašar Ralph. Said he just liked the sound. I hate it because it sounds like a kilaab barking.”

  “All right, so you and Ralph are on the street. Continue, please.”

  “Well, we struck up a pretty good friendship at first, until I came in.”

  “Came in?”

  “I forgot you’re dumb as a kilaab: the time when we can become queens. About every three or four weeks for me, but other mollies are different and in for longer times before they become queens. I stay in until I get settled. It’s been a while. No tom around here turns me on, except for you, Gaylord, and we’ll talk about that later.”

  “But you told me not to touch you or you’d hurt me. What’s with that?

  “That was me waiting to get to know you.”

  “Oh. How am I doing?”

  “Not bad. When I first warned you, you turned white and for a black tabby amait, that’s not easy.”

  “Am I a tabby?”

  “You got that frown all the time. Yeah, I’d say you’re a tabby. Have you ever looked at yourself in a mirror?”

  “No. I’m not sure what a mirror is.”

  “It’s glass like a window, and … wait a minute. The amait you saw from the window, what did he look like?”

  “I don’t know: black hair, dark coppery eyes, worried expression, a frown maybe. Large ears with black tufts. I don’t remember too well.” She looked at me with a puzzled expression, then dropped over on her side and laughed like she was insane.

  “Oh, sweet Bast! You saw yourself in a mirror. I cannot believe this.”

  I was getting a little pissed at her now, Chubby, because she was always cutting me down, someway. Okay, I was a greenhorn, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew a few things, but she always made me feel small, like I was so dumb I didn’t count.

  “Look, can you get on with your story of Ralph,” I said with just an edge of anger in my voice.

  “Okay, okay. It’s just so funny, though.” After she recovered, she went on. “Okay. Ralph saw that I had come in, and I guess he assumed I was his. You know, I belonged to him. Now, and I know you don’t know this because you’ve never been around a mollie before, but…”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “I had a maama and a sister.”

  “Were they fixed?”

  “Dunno, but they’re mollies, right?”

  She sighed and laid down again, facing me. “Okay, nice and slow, little kith. When mollies come in, we get nasty. I mean we are very scary. It’s not that we hate everyone, but we ache, we rub our backsides raw on anything that’s tied down, and when toms come around, we get really testy because we have to choose one to get the honor first. And only the best will do. Don’t want a bunch of idiot kiths sucking on you.”

  “Honor?”

  “Just shut up and listen. I’ll explain later. Anyway, Ralph decides he’s gonna to get the honor, but in spite of the screaming fire raging in me, when I looked him over, I found him disgusting. He was dirty, he stunk, he didn’t wash his face a lot and he only did a casual swipe of himself after he dropped a load or took a whiz—he was dumpster that never got dumped. I started to ask what she was talking about, but she put a paw in my mouth and hissed. “I rejected him for a beautiful fluffy orange guy who was new to the neighborhood like you are. Ralph goes ballistic. Screaming at me, yowling, hissing. He was a wreck. So, I’m done with fluffy yellow guy whose name I never learned . . .”

  “Done with fluffy guy?”

  “Okay, if you have to know, mollies get settled three or four times. Don’t know why; just know that’s the way it is. Dig?” I was clueless. “So, Ralph is screeching his lungs out, and goes around back of me, mounts me, grabs my neck and starts to put it to me. I screamed, rolled over and caught him right across his eyes with full claws. I was so mad I started in on him, and I gotta tell you, I messed him up pretty good. Ripped his le
ft ear, pulled out some faraawi on his side, which tasted like puke, and slammed him hard about a dozen times while I scraped his belly with my back claws. He took off like he’d had his tail stomped by bašar, and I haven’t seen him since.”

  My mouth must have been open because she pushed my jaw up and I caught the tip of my tongue. After I pulled myself together, I said, “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. Just remember what I said in about three weeks when I go nuts. Best thing to do when that happens is to move away and let me make the moves. You’ll be safer and happier.”

  “One question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Did you have kiths?”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  Chapter 5

  I put down my book, The Meaning of Zen, and see the cat smiling into her fur as she delicately combs it with her rough pink . tongue. “Cat, I would lend you this book to study but it appears you have already read it.” She looks up and gives me her full gaze. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she purrs, “I wrote it.” Dilys Lai

  “Just wondering. Where are they?”

  “Who knows? Around. When I get tired of being sucked on and mauled every minute of the day and night, I run them off.” She smiled at me probably because I was so awestruck at her story that I looked stupid. “I’m not like your maama, trapped with kiths. Here, we do or die. I hope they’re doing okay, but life goes on.”

  By mid-afternoon we’d eaten all we needed, so Adele continued to teach me what she called tricks, the way to live the easy way on the street. “I want you to meet somebody” She walked, tail up, toward a building that looked ready to fall over, and you know where that is, old friend.

  “Yup. Right here.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh.” She stopped and turned to me. “Your name, Gaylord, is not going to work with Chubby, who thinks fixed toms are light on their paws.”

  “I told you I’m not a gib. I’m whole.”

  “I know, I know, but with Gaylord, Chubby might think you are. Do you understand what I’m saying?” She came straight at me and stared right in my eyes.

  “No.”

  “Look, trust me?”

  “What else can I do?”

  “All right, let’s rename you.”

  “You name me. You’re the expert out here, so you do the honors.”