The Familiar Read Free Page A

that nothing space where I know I'm dead. I wonder idly if it's final this time. But no, it's only Cat's sixth life done: the transformation begins.
    It happens fast. Claws retract as fingers grow, fur becomes hair, the bones in my legs crack as they stretch and straighten and push their way out.
    For a brief moment, I'm a buck naked man in the middle of the street, blinking at the brightness of the streetlight after the darkness of death. Brief, yes, but it's long enough for Kevin to spot me as he walks back to what he thinks will be a cat's carcass he's supposed to bag and take to the dump. When he sees me, his eyes go round, and the curse he utters isn't a magical one. Then the cat comes back as my body folds into itself.
    Yes, Cat's back as a sweet young kitten.
    I can't resist a quick kitty-wink at Kevin before I run into the woods.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, just like that poet wrote it. But I'm no longer a bad-ass tomcat with years of muscle memory for hunting and killing. I'm a mewling kitten that could barely take down a mouse, much less a gigantic squirrel. The woods, which should beckon freedom, shout out danger now. I crawl into a hollow at the base of a rotten tree to sleep there, dozing then waking, wary of the night noises. An owl hoots in the distance. I cower in my hole.
    In the morning, I run home, tripping once or twice on my tiny, newly unfamiliar feet, and glance both ways before I cross each street. I bet it looks cute as hell. I hate it when Cat loses a life.
    When I arrive back at the shop, I shimmy up the tree in the back, move along a branch that leads to the open window, and launch myself at the sill. I snag it with my front paws, but as I dig in for firmer purchase, I feel like I'm posing for that poster from the seventies—the one with the cat and the branch and the "Hang In There, Baby." I slide down the sill fast, losing my grip and hoping my young bones bend instead of break when I hit the ground two stories below.
    Then, I'm traveling up and in by the scruff of the neck. As Eunice saves me, she starts in. "Stupid, stupid Tom. Another life gone? That only leaves seven, eight and nine, and you could have just lost number seven." She drops me on the floor, not gently, and I skulk away under the bed to spend the morning in hiding.
    I wish I didn't have to return, but where else would I go? I don't want to live the rest of my lives trying to make my way as a mangy alley cat. Maybe it's time to accept I'll never be a man again. In fact, with this latest setback, I'm not even a decent cat.

***
    I wake to the sound of a ringing phone, which Eunice answers promptly.
    "Cassie, stop crying. You're worth ten of him, sweetheart," Eunice murmurs into the phone in the deceptively kind tone she saves for her granddaughter. I hear the girl's sobs from where I'm still hiding under the bed.
    When she talks this way, a listener might think Eunice truly cares, but her interest in Cassie, like her interest in anyone, isn't genuine. She wants something from the girl. I know it, and I want to protect her from it, but I've never been able to figure out what it is. Still, she's been over-solicitous of her granddaughter's well-being since she was eight or nine. Cassie had been hit by a car, and Eunice not only donated blood, she stayed by her bedside for days. From then on, Cassie stayed with us on her summer vacations. She was someone nice for Cat to cuddle with. She never demanded more than I wanted to give.
    "No, dear, no, you don't pack his things up for him nice and tidy. You found him in bed with your best friend! No, his things go on the lawn. Preferably in the rain, with the crotch cut out of all his pants...that's the only thing for it, dear. Are you listening? Go find the scissors now before you forget. I'll wait..."
    Ten minutes pass while Eunice waits. "Lovely, dear. How did it feel? Yes, I said so, didn't I? Granny Eunice always knows what to do...and remember, on the lawn once you're finished.