[story] cat school
author: meg
Every Sunday, Madame would take a few of the kittens to church. She smoothed their whiskers and twitched their ribbons into place, and allowed them to watch as she put on her lace fichu. It was real, human-made lace, passed down through many generations. She was very proud of it. It lay soft and white against her grey shoulders.
"Tails up," she commanded, and the kittens lifted their tails and marched behind her to the bus stop.
"Good morning, Madame," said the human who always waited at the bus stop. "Good morning, little ones."
Madame was graciously pleased to twine around their feet. The kittens purred. At a look from Madame they sat in a line, tails curled decorously around their feet.
Madame's daughter, Mademoiselle, took after her father, a famous familiar. Her fur was as long and soft as her mother's, but inky black. She taught Familiarity and Aloofness.
"Please, Mademoiselle," said a kitten, "Is it true your father jumps up on his human's shoulder on command?"
"But no, little one," replied Mademoiselle, shocked. "He does it at exactly the right time, which is much harder."
As the bus arrived, Madame frowned at the kittens to let the human enter first ("one must be polite to the things, after all, my little ones") and then waited until the kittens had scrabbled their way up the steps. She herself cleared them with a single leap. The bus driver waited until the kittens were all settled, and then the bus began to chug and puff its way toward church.
Madame Tabby's Select School for Familiars and Housecats of Quality shared the pew - and indeed the grounds - of a finishing school for human girls. The humans walked to church, but Madame considered riding the bus valuable training for her kittens, many of whom would be required to ride public transportation in their professional lives. As they entered the church, they fell in behind the students and the kittens leaped to their places on the pew. Madame took her place at the end, arranged her tail, and squeezed her eyes shut as the congregation began to sing.
Madame of course was very careful about the kittens she accepted. There was a rumor - and a plaque for merit - that suggested that once she had accepted a puppy for training. As a special favor to Monsieur's human, of course. All the kittens were properly roly-poly and playful, with just the right air of reserve to make everybody who saw them know they were well bred and mysterious.
Sunday afternoons were devoted to a walk outside, which generally turned into a romp winked at by both Madame and Miss Bibbet. They knew that after all the little ones must have their play, but afterwards, everybody must come in quietly and sing their hymn, standing in line at the supper table with their hair smoothed neatly back.
Sunday evenings were for letters home (the girls) and purring exercises (the kittens) and works of devotional literature read aloud (both). Madame sat in Miss Bibbet's lap to supervise the purring exercises, rigorously conducted on various laps across the room. The room was warm. The book was full of measured periods.
Madame's eyes drooped. Her rich purr rose above the smaller purrs of the kittens, and began to fade as she sank into sleep.
the end
Every Sunday, Madame would take a few of the kittens to church. She smoothed their whiskers and twitched their ribbons into place, and allowed them to watch as she put on her lace fichu. It was real, human-made lace, passed down through many generations. She was very proud of it. It lay soft and white against her grey shoulders.
"Tails up," she commanded, and the kittens lifted their tails and marched behind her to the bus stop.
"Good morning, Madame," said the human who always waited at the bus stop. "Good morning, little ones."
Madame was graciously pleased to twine around their feet. The kittens purred. At a look from Madame they sat in a line, tails curled decorously around their feet.
Madame's daughter, Mademoiselle, took after her father, a famous familiar. Her fur was as long and soft as her mother's, but inky black. She taught Familiarity and Aloofness.
"Please, Mademoiselle," said a kitten, "Is it true your father jumps up on his human's shoulder on command?"
"But no, little one," replied Mademoiselle, shocked. "He does it at exactly the right time, which is much harder."
As the bus arrived, Madame frowned at the kittens to let the human enter first ("one must be polite to the things, after all, my little ones") and then waited until the kittens had scrabbled their way up the steps. She herself cleared them with a single leap. The bus driver waited until the kittens were all settled, and then the bus began to chug and puff its way toward church.
Madame Tabby's Select School for Familiars and Housecats of Quality shared the pew - and indeed the grounds - of a finishing school for human girls. The humans walked to church, but Madame considered riding the bus valuable training for her kittens, many of whom would be required to ride public transportation in their professional lives. As they entered the church, they fell in behind the students and the kittens leaped to their places on the pew. Madame took her place at the end, arranged her tail, and squeezed her eyes shut as the congregation began to sing.
Madame of course was very careful about the kittens she accepted. There was a rumor - and a plaque for merit - that suggested that once she had accepted a puppy for training. As a special favor to Monsieur's human, of course. All the kittens were properly roly-poly and playful, with just the right air of reserve to make everybody who saw them know they were well bred and mysterious.
Sunday afternoons were devoted to a walk outside, which generally turned into a romp winked at by both Madame and Miss Bibbet. They knew that after all the little ones must have their play, but afterwards, everybody must come in quietly and sing their hymn, standing in line at the supper table with their hair smoothed neatly back.
Sunday evenings were for letters home (the girls) and purring exercises (the kittens) and works of devotional literature read aloud (both). Madame sat in Miss Bibbet's lap to supervise the purring exercises, rigorously conducted on various laps across the room. The room was warm. The book was full of measured periods.
Madame's eyes drooped. Her rich purr rose above the smaller purrs of the kittens, and began to fade as she sank into sleep.
the end