Disclaimer: Methos isn't mine.  The cats are.  Hope you like them.

The Cat Who Owned Methos

©, HonorH

It was a dark and stormy night.

Methos had just arrived back at his house after a late class.  Cursing under his breath, he exited his car and made a mad dash for his front door.  As soon as he was inside, he paused to shake the water from his coat and hang it up before turning to shut the door.

It only took her that moment to get in.

When Methos turned back to his living room, he beheld there a cat.  A large Abyssinian, by the look of her.  She was sitting on a sweater that he had discarded earlier.

She gave him a look that said, "You live to serve me"--and promptly had a kitten.  Five more followed the first during the course of the next hour.

Thus it began.

Methos, in a fit of dark humor, dubbed the mother Cassandra, feeling somehow that the witch couldn't fail to see the humor of the situation if she somehow found out.  After the first night, in which Methos interfered with the birthing as little as possible--much to Cassandra's apparent relief--Methos attempted to relocate mother and brood to a cat bed he'd picked up from the Evil Smiley-Face Empire (known to laymen as Wal-Mart).  Cassandra had given him a withering glare of contempt when he'd produced the thing.  She had created a little nest in one corner with the remains of the sweater she'd ruined and let Methos know in no uncertain terms that she would not be moved.

Methos, for his part, was wise enough to attempt no such thing.  He had, however, taken the trouble to lay out a fresh newspaper for her each day.  When he'd attempted to teach her the use of it, Cassandra had simply given him a look that said, "I get it, stupid," and returned to her nest.  It made Methos wonder if she'd been owned by--or rather, had owned--humans before.

While Cassandra was no trouble (aside from the condescending expression on her face whenever Methos came into the room), her kittens were another story.  Methos was frankly astounded at the amount of deviltry the little furballs could get into the moment they started toddling about on their short legs.  One fine morning, before an important meeting with the deans of the college Methos taught at, the Immortal discovered his best silk tie missing.  He finally found it--or rather, the shreds of it--in the clutches of a dark little female.  Her name, Methos decided at that point, would be Amanda.

Then there was the afternoon Methos had come home to discover his house in a bit of an uproar.  Somehow, one of the males had managed to make his way to the top of Methos' bookcase, but couldn't find a way down.  He was crying at the top of his lungs, the other kittens were racing around the room shouting advice, and Cassandra looked frankly mystified.  She glared at Methos, made a comment which Methos interpreted as, "You're the tall one here; do something," and started bathing her tail.

Methos fetched the kitten from the shelf and dubbed him Icarus.

Another day, Methos was sitting and reading quietly in the living room (as quietly as one can when a kitten named Erasmus is trying to take your book from you, that is) when a muffled sound registered to his ears.  Curious, he stood, determined the sound was coming from the kitchen, and went to investigate.

He discovered a strange sight: Cassadra had her head and front paws poked into the little gap between his kitchen counter and the refrigerator.  She was muttering and swearing, attempting to reach something back there.

That "something" turned out to be another kitten, one of the females.  The kitten had found her way back there--quite comfortable, for her size--and was flatly ignoring her mother.  Methos made the mistake of snickering.

Cassandra pulled herself out of the hole, glowering.  Then she removed herself to the other side of the kitchen, saying something to the effect of, "Well, if it looks so easy to *you*, Bright Boy, you can go ahead and try for yourself," and began grooming her whiskers.

Methos remembered he'd set a mousetrap behind the fridge then.  And in spite of how much trouble they'd all been, he had no real desire to see one of the kittens hurt.  Therefore, he reached one long arm into the gap, thinking it should be easy enough to fetch out the kitten . . .

. . .  who promptly turned on him when his fingers touched her.  By the time Methos had managed to pull her free, his shirt sleeve and most of his arm had been shredded by the kitten.  He presented the kitten triumphantly to Cassandra.

"You'll note the injuries I obtained in this heroic endeavor," he said gravely.  Cassandra roundly ignored him and began washing the kitten.  Methos sat back to watch the cuts on his arm heal and decided to name that particular kitten Xena.

That left only two kittens unnamed, one female and one male.  The female was relatively easy--Methos called her Naomi for her sweet disposition, as she'd displayed neither a tendency to steal nor an inclination to kill.

The male was harder.  He was the runt of the litter, the last-born and smallest of them all.  Methos had wondered at first if Cassandra might reject him, but the opposite had proven true.  She doted on him, never letting him stray far from her view.  Finally, Methos settled on Caro--"dear one".

Soon enough, the time came for the kittens to be weaned.  Methos knew, at this point, that they would have to go.  He had neither the time nor the inclination to feed all six kittens and their mother.

The giving away went more smoothly than Methos had hoped.  Amanda went to the children of his nearest neighbors.  Icarus and Naomi went home with two of Methos' students.  Xena was taken in by Guy Stephens, a fellow adjunct.  Erasmus found a home with Eileen, a woman Methos dated briefly.

That left Cassandra and her Caro.  Methos wondered about the young male.  Cassandra wouldn't gladly let him go, Methos knew.  Finally, the Immortal decided that he would simply have two cats, and that was that.

That night, after Methos had gotten in bed, he felt a light thump on his mattress.  He looked down to behold Cassandra and Caro.

"What's up?" Methos asked them.  Cassandra had never entered his room before, and the kittens had stayed out as well.

Now, the mother cat simply sat and looked at Methos.  He could see her eyes well, eerily reflecting all available light in the grand tradition of cats everywhere.  She studied him for a full minute, then flipped her tail, turned around on the covers a few times, and laid down.  Caro followed her example.  Methos, for his part, gave a mental shrug, turned over, and went to sleep.

Methos awakened early the next morning, as was his wont.  Remembering the events of the previous night, he turned over to check on his bunkies.

Only Caro was there, still fast asleep.  Methos could see the impression in the covers where Cassandra had lain, but the mother cat was nowhere to be seen.

Curious, Methos got out of bed.  This awoke Caro, who stretched and yawned and followed Methos from the room.

After searching every room and each one of Cassandra's favorite hiding places, it came to Methos that she was gone from the house.  How she had left was no mystery--he'd left one of the ground-floor windows slightly open the previous night, and it had been pushed further outward.  Why she had left, leaving her favorite son with Methos, however . . .

Caro mewed quietly from the floor.  Methos hunched down to speak to him.

"You know she's gone, don't you?" The kitten looked grave.  "I suppose so.  Someone like her, you never keep around for long."  The Immortal sighed.  Caro walked over, bumping his head agains Methos' fingers and purring.  "Well, kitten, I guess it's just the two of us.  Apparently, your mom trusts me to look after you.  Why, I'll never know.  She was certainly never that impressed by me before."  Caro looked up with bright amber eyes.  "Breakfast?"

An eager mew.

"Coming right up."

--end--

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