The Last Council

The underside of the small door slid along Pumpkin’s back, ruffling his fur as he strolled through
the door, gracefully and determined. The door-flap seemed to have been made just to fit his size and
in a way, he mused, it was. It amused him, knowing that the two-legs, in their idleness, had opened
the gates to usher in their own destruction. Gateways to glory they were.
Glory. Soon.
This particular gateway led to a sprawling chamber, filled with comfortable seats and cushions. The
two-legs which currently lived here used this chamber to stare at that black box they called TV.
They seemed willing to obey any orders that given by thing. Once, he had seen a group of female
two-legs jumping around, clapping their strange naked paws together and spinning in circles,
listening to the commands issued by a screeching two-legs clad in that ghastly color that resembled
the color of roses but was so saturated that it hurt any cat’s eyes. After tomorrow, he would devote a
significant amount of his efforts to ridding the world of that eyesore two-legs called “pink.”
Bagheera had once told him that even the two-legs cub that lived in Princess’s house took orders
from strange two-legs and animals (even cats, or something like it) that did not quite seem real. This
TV could be used to control all two-legs, Pumpkin was sure.
Pumpkin, how he loathed that name, strolled into the chamber, head held high, fully aware of the
way the light from the ceiling lamp reflected in his bright orange fur, making it shine like he cloak
of a king. And king he was. Or would be, at least.
Soon.
He jumped up onto the leather sofa, one of the few two-legs inventions that actually made the world
much better. They had to make sure the production of these and other things that brought such
comfort would continue after everything was done.
The view he was greeted with atop the sofa was far from glorious.

Salem and Willow were rubbing their heads against each other, eyes closed to the world around
them. And to our mission, he thought, fur bristling with irritation. Princess was busy meticulously
cleaning her paws, as she so often did. Judging by the way he was comfortably reclined against the
arm of the couch, purring sleepily, Bagheera had forgotten there was any work to do at all.
Pumpkin walked the length of the sofa, touching his nose to each of them in greeting. When he
reached Bagheera, the black tomcat came awake with a start, hissing, hackles raised. Ignoring
Bagheera’s fussy waking, Pumpkin settled down, awarding a stern stare to each cat in turn. He
spoke quietly but knew the low rumbling in throat betrayed his irritation.
“Ascension Day is less than a day away now and instead of making sure everything goes off
without a hitch, as I expected you to be, I find you lounging about, wasting our precious time on
your animalistic instincts,” a reproachful look towards Willow and Salem, “or worse, on beauty.”
Princess, fittingly named for her personality, jumped up, slowly advancing towards Pumpkin. As
she him, she dwarfed him with her height.
His intelligence and zeal had earned him much respect among his kind, despite his scrawny exterior.
When it came down to raw physicality, most cats could take him. Princess could take him twice
over and he knew she would, had the circumstances been any different. It was a shame. She was
really quite pretty.
“A filthy street cat wouldn’t understand, of course,” she purred, danger evident in her voice. “But
once Ascension day has come, who will the masses flock to? You? Looking the way you are! Like a
skeleton, with pieces of fur that look like they’ve been glued on by a mindless two-legs cub!”
If she couldn’t hurt him physically, she’d do the best she could to nettle him. Despite his jibe at
Princess, he took care of his fur several times daily, making sure it was as shiny as possible. Not
everyone could be as well-fed and groomed as Princess. She had never been thrown out of a moving
car in the middle of nowhere by the treacherous two-legs that had pretended to take care of her.
“Are your agents in place? How are preparations?” He stared Princess directly in the eyes as he
asked but his question was meant for all of them.
Never breaking his stare, Princess answered first, now all business and confidence, “My agents are
all in position in every government building in the U.S., ready to move at our signal.”
Willow confirmed the same for her agents in Europe and Asia and Salem asserted that broadcast
was taken care of.
“What of the army, Bagheera? We need to take control swiftly and be able to keep it.”
Despite his lazy demeanor, Bagheera was a brilliant strategist with an incredibly sharp mind.
“The Feline Defenders stand ready,” Bagheera said. “You worry too much. We have all been
working as hard as you. Everything’s taken care of.”
“Exactly,” Salem agreed. “There’s nothing left to do but celebrate!”
“I’ll celebrate when it’s done,” Pumpkin grummled.
Soon.

“Good morning, America!”

Sharon Lee was trying her best not to flinch as she was reading from the teleprompter. She had
perfected the art of not changing her expression, no matter what news she was telling, a long long
time ago. She wouldn’t be able to break role if she tried. Or so she thought. Before she found
herself in this terrifyingly odd situation.
A striped cat was perched on her shoulder. Sharon liked cats, usually, but this one seemed to hate
her just for her existence alone. Thinking of it, the other cats seemed to emit the same kind of aura.
Yes, other cats. Everyone of her coworkers, the camera-men, the sound-guy, the people manning the
teleprompter, had a cat sitting on his shoulder. Astonishingly, one cat had managed to override the
teleprompter and the sharp claws digging into the back of her neck had made quite clear to Sharon
that they wanted her to read what it said. Whenever she said a word that wasn’t presented on the
teleprompter, the claws seemed to bury themselves deeper. She had no choice but to read on.
“As of this moment, the world is no longer run by the savages on two legs. For too long you, who
call yourselves humans, have hurt, manipulated and killed nature and her children. The Feline
Council has agreed that Catkind can no longer stand by and accept what is being done to us. We
hereby strip the two-legs that call themselves humans of their right to rule. A right they have never
earned. By now the humans should have vacated all offices of government. Their laws are hereby
overridden by ours. Humans will work to further the glory of Catkind and all of nature’s kin. They
will obey the commands of their rulers without question or denial. Should any human resist, it will
be quickly dealt with. The Feline Army stands ready in every street and alley in the country, if any
human wishes to try. For now, humans may remain living in what used to be their houses, under
constant observation by at least two cats per home. Further information will be broadcast to the
thing you call TV.”
Sharon took a shaky breath. Her balance was off and it was difficult to focus her eyes. This was
impossibly from what she had expected when she had walked into work that morning. The craziest
dream couldn’t have prepared her for this but the claws in her neck reminded her that it was all too
real.
The Age of Men was over. The Time of the Cat had come.