“Are you not entertained?” cried Ginger as she stood atop the tower above the cheering crowd below. “I have come here to conquer, and that I have!”

She jumped down into the midst of the crowd. They scattered as she snarled and slashed through them toward The Great One. 

“I bring you mice! I protect you from birds and bugs! And this is what I get?” She shoved another cat aside. “Am I not good enough for you?”

The Great One swept a stick toward Ginger. “Away!” The Great One called. “Get you away!”

“I have been every thing you asked for and yet you push me back!”

The stick swung back toward Ginger. She gripped it and tugged. It slipped from The Great One’s grasp. The Great One cried out as Ginger tossed the stick aside and continued closer, screaming and spitting in her rage.

The Great One fled and hid in the lower chambers, slamming and barring a door to keep Ginger away. Ginger paced at the door for a while, then headed back to her favorite place to sit, a high perch in front of a window where she could observe.

The sky was graying toward night when Ginger awoke hungry. She jumped down, ready to head to the kitchen, and was startled to see that the door between her resting room and the kitchens was closed. She lifted her nose to the air and caught scent of some fresh food. She followed the scent to a dish piled high with her favorites. She dug in excitedly, savoring every morsel as much as she could for eating as though she might never eat again. 

She was sitting to the side, licking her paws, when she realized that something was not right. Her arm felt weak and tingly. She shook it off, but the sensation came back. Her whole body became heavy and the noises of the room faded. 

Ginger was suddenly desperately tired. She stumbled off to find a soft place to lay down. She wasn’t sure if she ever got there.

Ginger awoke in a tiny cage with a water dish and a toilet. She inched to the bars and peeked out. Around her were rows and rows of similar cages, some empty, some occupied by other cats.

The other cats looked lethargic and depressed. Some had tubes and wires passing through the bars. One cat - no two - had a giant cone affixed around its neck. It was pathetic.

She looked around and realized what she was seeing. These cats were sick. But she wasn’t! What happened?

Ginger threw herself at the cage door. It rattled, but did not open. She tried again. And again. 

A noise arose out of sight in another room. A One appeared. Not the Great One with which she was familiar, but a different One. A second One followed. The stood outside the bars and watched Ginger and glowered and growled back. 

Ginger screeched and attacked the cage door, reaching through to attempt to slash at the Ones nearby. They backed away and left.

She waited. The Ones came back with stick and a dish. They opened the cage door and held her a bay with the stick as they placed a dish of food in the corner of the space. She hissed and cried out angrily until they left. 

After a short pause, she investigated the dish. It had some food on it, but not food she’d eaten before. She was hungry, so she ate. And then she waited. 

She wanted out, but the Ones seemed to only be willing to come feed her twice a day and would not allow her out of the cage. She wasn’t used to being trapped like this, and she felt her frustration growing by the moment. Every time the Ones would enter and take a defferent cat out of a cage, Ginger would become even more furious. 

She hated every one of them. Given the chance, she would attack, screaming and clawing until they backed away. The Ones whispered to one another. Decisions were made, but Ginger didn’t know what they were. She scowled.

The Great One appeared in the door. It nodded. Ginger hissed. The other Ones ushered the Great One away. 

Ginger waited. More days passed with only food and water being brought into the cage. Then something happened. A One she’d never seen before opened the cage and reached. 

The fool! Thought Ginger. She attacked. 

This One was persistent and somehow moved Ginger from the cage into a box with a handle. She screamed and slashed at the walls of the box as it was lifted and she was taken away.

The new One walked into the room. Ginger hissed and snapped, then ran under the table. The other cat dove aside as well, cowering under a chair. The One put down a couple of food dishes and sang at the cats. Ginger watched the other cat, who was staring wide-eyed at the One. 

The One left and Ginger slid out from under the table to eat. This food was better than what she got in the cage. And this One didn’t yell at her or chase her with a stick. 

Ginger eyed the other cat. She wondered if he was another gladiator. He looked like it. He bore the scars of many fights, and had the thick coat of a cat who’d spent many winters outside.

He didn’t want to fight though, and gave her a wide berth. In fact, this place smelled of peace, not of arguments and anger. Plus, there was plenty of food and water, and the litterboxes were always clean. Ginger was not sure what to make of the new accomodations, but she liked not having to fight all the time.

The One came in on this day and sat down. The One carried a small container that it rattled as it called out for the cats in the room. Ginger crept forward, skeptical of the One’s intentions. The One opened the container and placed several small bits of food out. 

The best kind of food!

The tastiest!

Little sweet morsels of deliciousness!

Ginger got excited then pulled back. Was this a trap?

The other gladiator watched the One from his hiding place under the desk. The One chirruped and called gaily, pointing at the snacks. Then the One tossed a snack toward each of them. Ginger slinked forward and gobbled up the treat. The other gladiator did likewise. 

The One tossed a few more snacks then left, leaving a couple of piles near where they had been sitting. The One closed the door and Ginger and the other gladiator were alone.

“You have obviously been successful many times, Gladiator,” Ginger said to the other cat as they hurriedly ate the treats left by the One. “I was victorious often as well.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the other, smacking his lips as he ate. “I’ve only ever tried not to get killed.”

“But you’re obviously a warrior.”

“Hardly,” he muttered, looking around. “I always wondered what the inside of One’s homes looked like.”

“You lived outside?”

He sat down and licked his paw. “Outside forever. Then one day the Ones came. I thought they would kill us all.” He shrugged. “Now I’m here.”

“The Ones are fools,” said Ginger.

“The Ones can kill us,” snarled the other. 

“I don’t think this One will.”

“I’m starting to think that. I like being warm.”

“Do you think we’ll have to fight?”

“What, each other? I hope not. I’d rather not.”

“I think there are other cats here. I think I smell them.”

The other cat nodded. “There are. Sometimes they come in here and One removes them.”

“Do they look healthy?”

“They look… happy.” The other cat shrugged and ate the last snack in front of him.

Ginger sat on the rug as the One came in with the usual container of snacks. As the snacks were laid out on the floor the One continued to talk, cooing and crooning at Ginger and the other gladiator, that Ginger had learned was named “Big Red.” 

Big Red was hidden under the table as always, but Ginger had decided to sit in full view of the One, just to see what would happen. 

The One tossed snacks at her, which Ginger ate hungrily, warily getting closer to the One, who for some reason had not moved away from the line of snacks on the floor. 

Ginger crept forward and ate one of the treats, keeping an ear trained on the One. She sneaked another, but lurched back when she saw the One move. The One cooed an apology and Ginger felt bolder and moved in for another snack.

Ginger shrieked and lashed out. The One had touched her! She dashed away, abandoning the snacks, and crawled under a desk, wild eyed and angry.

The One yelped and gripped its hand. Blood oozed from its fingers. 

Now would come the stick, thought Ginger. The stick, the stick.

Instead, the One calmly stood and left. After leaving a few more treats on the floor.

Ginger cowered under the desk when the One came in again. As always, the One cooed and called. Their hands held only dishes of food and the container of snacks. Ginger waited.

The One sat and sang to the cats. Big Red crawled a short ways out and was rewarded with a shower of snacks. Ginger felt envious, and dared herself to peek out. But she was too nervous. The One was probably still angry, and there were now bandages on their fingers.

She took a cautious step forward then cowered back when the One saw her.

There was a click and a snack slid right in front of Ginger’s nose. She looked up as the One tossed another, but she didn’t move. Ginger stared at the One and the One blinked back slowly.

Ginger took the snack.

Weeks passed. The One had opened the door and Ginger and Big Red met many of the other cats of the house. Some were overly friendly. Some were polite but distracted. And a couple were downright rude.

The One continued to visit the room with treats and singing, but Ginger wasn’t always there any more. She had discovered other places to hide and sleep. She’d also found other food dishes and liked this fare much better than what was served in the other room. 

Ginger had a favorite spot where she could sit and observe the other cats and the One. Most of the cats gave the One space and were all too happy to move if the One asked them to. Ginger watched the daily ritual of feeding and cleaning, trying to better understand what motivated this One and whether trust was deserved. 

She chuckled when the One picked up an elderly blind cat and danced with her. Or the time the One wrestled with the kitten - at least until the kitten bit, then wrestle-time was over. Ginger began to sincerely wonder if this One was really just a very large gangly cat. 

Occasionally, the One would care for a cat in a way that the cat didn’t like. Ginger gasped as the One tolerated being bitten and scratched just to loosen a mat or trim an overgrown claw. Ginger herself had not allowed the One to touch her. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But she remembered when she’d bitten and scratched the One on those early days, and maybe felt a little bad for the pain she’d inflicted.

Ginger was exploring on this morning when she heard a yowl from the other room. She turned an ear and heard the One yelp. There was a growl and hiss and the One’s voice grew alarmed. The One yelped again. 

This was Ginger’s call to action.

She raced into the room to see the One sitting up on the bed wrestling with an unhappy - no, angry - mostly-black cat. The black cat swatted at the One again and Ginger leapt into action. She jumped onto the bed and launched herself at the black cat, swatting angrily.

“Back off! Don’t hurt the One!” she cried.

“The One hurts me,” growled the black.

“The One is our friend,” Ginger hissed back.

The One pushed the two cats apart. The black one jumped away. Ginger growled at him as he left. Ginger looked back at the One, ears still back and fuming.

The One blinked slowly and stroked her fur. And sang.