The Catbyrd Seat Read Free

they do always have kids. Maybe we could force the kids to move out on their own as soon as they reach a certain age.”
    “Now that seems like a more sensible suggestion.” Cociel recognized the voice of Grady, agreeing with whoever had put forward the latest motion. He was appalled that anyone could think of such a thing, but it was no surprise that Grady supported it.
    “I have a much better idea,” said another voice. This time it was the calm, commanding sneer of Whiska. Unmistakable and recognizable to every mouse in the Reservation, seeing as they were forced to listen to it every Sunday in the Prime Minister’s weekly announcements.
    Whiska was a tall, thin cat, with shiny, sleek black fur and deep brown eyes. He’d been Prime Minister for nearly a decade now, and ruled with an iron paw. Cociel couldn’t remember life before Whiska, but he certainly wanted to see a life after Whiska. He wanted a new leader who actually cared about the needs of his people, rather than simply being interested in himself and his own sport and enjoyment.
    “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long, long time,” the ruthless Prime Minister continued speaking. “Section D is completely useless. A waste of space. Throw the mice that live there out of their homes and elephant the entire area.”
    Cociel and Tails both grew tense at what they were hearing, pulling away from the gap in the fence and staring at each other with wide eyes.
    “They can’t do that!” Tails gasped.
    “Shh!” Cociel hushed her so that they could listen some more, to find out how the motion was getting received by the others in Parliament.
    “What would happen to the mice who live there currently?” one of the cats was asking.
    “I don’t know,” answered Whiska. “And I don’t care. They can get redistributed to Sections A, B and C. Does it really matter where they live?”
    “And what will you do with the area once you elephant it, Prime Minister?”
    “Turn it into my own private playground, of course,” Whiska laughed. “A cats-only zone. Or even better, a Whiska only zone. Maybe I can invite some special guests in when I want to.”
    “We can take mice from the prisons and hunt them,” suggested Grady with an evil cackle of excitement.
    “Yes!” cried Whiska. “That’s even better! Those mice in the dungeons are useless; just rotting their lives away down there not doing anything. Much better for them to be hunted and die glorious deaths!”
    “In between our teeth!” laughed Grady.
    “Yes, yes!” cried Whiska delightedly. “This motion stands! Section D will be demolished by elephants and turned into a private hunting ground for cats. All in agreement, raise your paws.”
    There was a murmur around the other cats in the Parliament. Even if some of them hadn’t agreed with the motion, or had put forward other suggestions initially, none of them would dare publicly stand up against Whiska and say they disagreed with his proposals.
    After a pause, during which Cociel imagined all of the other cats raising their paws in agreement, Whiska seemed pleased with the result. “Excellent. Then it’s decided. There is an election coming up in two weeks time. We’ll put the plan into action after that. For the time being, all focus needs to be on my campaign.”
    Cociel nearly laughed, even though he was angry about the demolition plans. It was just so ridiculous to think of the election campaign.
    Whiska held ‘elections’ every once in a while, to give the impression that they were all living in a democratic and free society, but there was never anyone else on the ballot paper except for him, and everybody knew that it was a swizz, a fake. The mice occasionally expressed frustration at being treated as second class citizens under his rule, but nobody had ever been truly brave enough to stand up to Whiska and do anything about it. The frustration never went further than the occasional bicker behind closed doors or a complaint with