Everything is so loud here. So many others, too. They’re everywhere. Like everywhere. How’s a girl supposed to take a break when every time you turn around there’s another cat? And another? And another?

At least the food is good, even though the service is unresponsive and slow. And the bathroom conditions are terrible. Terrible, I tell you.

But then again. 

I miss the old place. It was just me and her. We were happy. I wonder what happened? It got strange. So bizarre. I miss the old place.

This place is active. In a constant state of motion. Everyone is everywhere. And that fat one. Ugh, the fat one. No respect for elders, I tell you.

“Tell us a story, Annie,” said Possum. “We want a story.”

Arthur yawned and stretched. “Stories are nice,” he mumbled.

Annie was tired and in no mood for storytelling. These kittens were persistent though, and tended not to go away.

Toast tucked his legs under his body. “I’d like a story, too.”

The comfy pillow beaconed from beneath the shelving unit. Oh, how good it would feel to rest her aching hips on it. She eyed it longingly.

“A story about the olden days,” Possum cried. 

Annie tried to ignore him. Possum was not to be ignored. He jumped up into her face. “Have you been in a car? I was once! It was loud. What do you think of cars? Is outside safe? Do you like going outside?”

Annie hissed. Possum froze.

“I like your fur,” Possum whispered. “It’s very pretty.”

Annie straightened. She wasn’t the only black cat in the house, although that other guy had some white patches so, yeah, he wasn’t really black either. But he was plump and glossy. She missed her glossier days. Those had been good days. Now everything ached. And everyone was a kitten, compared to her. 

Dappled Sunshine ushered the younger cats to the couch. Annie had less disdain for Dapples than for the others. Dapples seemed to just know that Annie wanted to be left alone. And Dapples knew the rules. She’d raised kittens of her own and knew how cats were supposed to act. Clearly some of the other cats in the house had been taken from their mothers too early and simply didn’t know how to act. 

Annie chuckled as Dapples sat on Possum to get him to hold still.

“Maybe,” Dapples smiled, “Maybe Annie can tell us a quick story if we all just sit still.”

Possum squirmed for a moment, then settled. Toast curled up next to Dapples, snuggling in yet eagerly awaiting an exciting tale. Arthur plopped down on the other side of the couch, curiously eying the pile of cats on the opposite end.

Annie stretched and yawned. “If I give you a story, you’ll leave me alone, yeah?”

“Story!” said Possum.

Dapples rolled her eyes and nodded to Annie. They both knew that there was to be no ‘leaving alone,’ but maybe a story would be a temporary respite.

Annie sat, a light from behind made her presence a brilliant silhouette. 

“Once,” she began, “all cats were black.”

“Ooh,” said Possum. “What happened?”

Dappled Sunshine shushed him. Annie continued.

“We were creatures of the night. We owned the shadows. We were invisible. The world was our feast! The mice and the snakes were all ours for the taking.

“Our great father cat, Midnight, owned the night. He sent his followers all through the world to make sure that the dark places belonged to the cats.

“The wolves kept the light places and slept while the cats did their work, ridding the landscape of vermin. But the wolves befriended the people and the people liked the wolves. 

“Wolves are useless, though, except for guarding cattle and sheep. The vermin destroy the people’s stores and the people suffered anyway. The cattle and sheep suffered over winter when the vermin ate their food.

“Midnight sent his minions to the people, and said ‘We can protect your sheep in the dark. We can protect your food in the winter.’ But the people swatted at the minions. Evin shadows, the people called them. Darkeness with teeth and claws. 

“People believed that we stole the souls of babies, that we were the dirty carriers of disease. They chased us away. Disease was rampant.”

“People are awful,” said Arthur. 

“I don’t disagree,” said Annie.

“But our person is good,” interjected Dappled Sunshine. “We like our person.”

“Our person’s kindness is the result of Midnight’s plan,” continued Annie. “For he knew that the people would never trust the dark minions, the creepers of the night, the vermin-eaters. He had a plan.

“One day he called his minions to him. They gathered and Midnight smiled. Gold, green, and blue eyes shown in the darkness, eagerly awaiting his decree. ‘My loves,’ said Midnight. ‘We must win the day. We must take it from the wolves.’

“The minions were fearful. ‘But how?’ they cried. ‘We are night and they are day.’

“Midnight nodded. ‘We are night and we will soon be day. I bid some of you - half, perhaps - to sit in the sun as night comes or as day begins. Lighten your coat. See the color of the land.’

“The minions gasped. But they understood. They returned to their forests and swamps, the barns and roads. They kept eyes on the sun, though it was painful. Some could not bear the sun’s rays - those cats stayed black and maintained their life in the darkness. Others sat my streams at dawn and saw their coats lighten. Those of the desert turned the color of the sand. Those of the forest turned the colors of light and dark shadows through the trees. Those of the far north and south turned the color of the snow.”

Arthur raised his paw. “What about me? Where do gray cats come from?”

Annie smiled coyly. “The gray cats are those of the mountains, for their coats are the color of the rocks.”

Arthur puffed up. “I’m a mountain cat.”

“The people saw the cats of the day,” Annie went on. “The cats matched the world around them, and the people were less afraid. They liked the white cats, and the striped cats, and the orange cats, and the gray cats. The cats let the people touch them, pet them, and groom them. The people made beds for the cats in their houses. This was not a bad arrangement. The cats liked the comfort. And the people liked how soft the cats were. 

“The people did not know that the cats would wake while the people slept and go about their business of killing vermin. Cats would step past and over sleeping wolves - who continued to be useless, especially at night - and catch the mice in the house that nibbled on the people’s food. 

“Cats would creep out of the house in the night and clear vermin from the grain stores and barns. The people did not know this. They only ever saw the cats sleeping peacefully. The people began to wonder why they were letting the cats share their space.”

“People like us because we’re cute and we play,” announced Possum. “That’s all people want.”

“Perhaps today,” said Annie. “But when cats first joined people, the people lived in fear and struggled every day against the world. The world wanted to kill the people. The house wolves protected the people and the people’s herds. Cats. The cats were interesting to the people, but in their minds were no substitute for the wolves. 

“Midnight was perturbed. Surely the people understood the values of the cats in their homes. His minions came night after night, telling Midnight of their work and of how people treated them. Yet he was disappointed. Wolves were still in the houses. The cats had boxes and corners, but no fluffy beds. They were kept out of bedrooms and forbidden from being near babies. The dogs had no such restrictions. 

“He gathered the minions again. ‘The people do not know what we do for them! The people are fools to put so much faith in wolves and so little in us. We must show them our work! We must prove our value to them!’ The minions nodded and left, returning back to their boxes and barns to contemplate how best to show people their value.

“The people woke to find mice on their porch step. And squirrels at the foot of the bed. The cats smiled, pointing to their prizes. ‘See what we did for you?’ the minions meowled. ‘We saved you from this!’

“The people were revolted. The shrunk back in horror and the tiny lifeless bodies gifted them by the cats. The mice and squirrels and birds were tossed aside in disgust. The minions shrugged and waited.

“Day after day, week after week, year after year, Midnight’s minions hunted in the dark and brought offerings in the mornings. People were slow to understand, but one day they did. The grain stores were less ravaged. The sheep were healthier. Food stored in the kitchen was less often chewed on. It was the cats doing this, for the dogs were too stupid, loud, and slow to be able to fend off such tiny trouble-makers.

“When they finally understood, the people suddenly made their homes compatible for the cats. Tall things to climb on. Places to scratch. Soft beds. They knew our worth and we were all happier.”

“I’ve never caught a mouse,” said Possum.

“I have,” said Toast. “They taste like chicken.”

Possum was silent for a moment, then shook off the comment. “We don’t bring mice to our people do we? I’ve never seen a sheep.”

“They have chickens,” said Stanley, who had been listening sleepily from the back of the couch. He had sneaked in while Annie was speaking. 

“Which also taste like chicken,” said Toast with a giggle.

“Have you brought our people mice, Mr. Stanley sir?” said Possum.

Stan sighed. “I used to, but not here. This is a different place. And that’s a story for another day.”

Annie cleared her throat. “Midnight taught his minions to show their value to people. Then the people let us in. Now the people keep us inside and safe and call us part of their families. Things are much different now.

“Today, people don’t keep sheep or cows. I guess our person has chickens - I didn’t know - but people don’t keep cats to work so much any more. They keep us for friends.” She pointed at Possum. “You’re not here to catch mice. You’re here to help the others. To be a friend. And, yes, to be cute. But your heritage is in the fields and in the dark. You are a hunter and are best off to remember that.”

“Some of you have never experienced living without a person,” said Dappled Sunshine, “to live without shelter or food or clean water.”

Arthur nodded. “I did that once. It was hard and I got hurt. People helped me, but I still don’t like them.”

Stan nodded his agreement. “Some people still need our help to keep the vermin away. That’s what I did before coming here. You are lucky, kitten,” Stan pointed a claw at Possum, “that you haven’t experienced starvation.”

Possum patted his over-round belly. “I met my first person on a road in the rain. I miss my mother, but I’m glad the person brought me here.”

Annie cleared her throat again. “Today, Midnight’s minions - that is all of us - are still hunters of the night, though our coats are changed to please the asthetic of people. People have taken us all over the world, which is why that in this house we have striped cats, spotted cats, orange cats, gray cats, white cats, and black cats.” Annie sat taller and puffed up. “Those of us who are black are closer to the First Cat, Midnight, but we are all his descendants. Today, people gather food at stores and no longer remember the fear of vermin eating their crops. But they do still remember how soft our coats are and how pleasing we are to look upon. And we remain in their homes, just as we do in this one.”

Annie stood and stretched. “Now. I am tired. My bones are achy and my voice hurts. Please leave me be that I might sleep.”

“Thank you Annie,” said Dappled Sunshine as she shooed the cats off the couch. “Thank you for reminding us of our heritage.”

Annie waved her off and ambled over to her favorite pillow. She was proud of her history, but she was glad she didn’t need to catch mice any more.