It was a beautiful morning, the warmth of the sun and coolness of the breeze creating a perfect balance in temperatures. Mooky arched in a tight stretch, flexing out the kinks of the night before padding around the bend of the cul-de-sac. He was heading towards Susan and the Russian's house, hoping for more information on the "Catcher". He wanted to be prepared in case one of them decided to pay the street a visit.

A puzzling sight appeared as the cul-de-sac opened up before him: a cluster of cats sat in the middle of the cement circle, heads held together, surrounded by a bumbling little group of kittens. Lizzy's kittens? He spotted a bushy tail sweeping beside another dark-furred cat with a torn ear. The Kitten and One-ear! He also spotted LoLo's long gray hair, Susan's white coat, and the Russian's bluish-gray pelt.

All of the neighborhood cats in one spot like this? Even Mooky knew that was unusual. Especially given LoLo's cranky disposition and Lizzy's territorial hostility when it came to her kits. What was going on?

Mooky hurried over; as he approached, the cats, who'd been meowing amongst themselves, fell silent. They looked up and treated him to wide, staring eyes. Even Lizzy's kittens stopped playing, straightening and given Mooky that same odd stare.

It was enough to stop Mooky in his tracks, especially when he began to pick up the faint scent of fear. "Wh-what's the matter?" he mewled in bewilderment.

Susan's eyes became sad. "We tried to warn you, Mooky," he said sullenly.

Warn him? Warn him about what? "What're you talking about?" he asked.

"I'm so sorry," the Russian said, his eyes shining with anguish. "I wish you would've listened to us. I wish you would've gone and gotten some owners like we told you."

Mooky's mind spun. What? What? "What're you... I haven't had time to look for any owners ye—"

"It's too late." Unlike the previous two cats, Lizzy's eyes were pitiless. "You're going away, Mooky."

Going aw—? Panic, strong and primal. "Away?" he squeaked.

One-ear growled. "Maybe if you hadn't scrambled around so much, trying to steal everyone's food, you would've found owners sooner."

Mooky's mouth dried, and one kit sprang up and sang, "The Catcher's gonna get Mooky!"

"The Catcher's gonna get Mooky!" another squeaked. Soon, they were all singing the little tune, hopping around him. Mooky went dizzy with horror. The Catcher? The Catcher was coming to get him? It couldn't be!

The growl of an engine came from behind him; Mooky spun around in time to see a large, white truck, carrying some kind of cage in the back, gun into the circle. It screeched to a halt before the group of cats, its tires streaking black marks across the pavement.

Mooky froze, terror rooting him to the spot, as two humans piled out of the vehicle, wearing identically colored pelts. One, armed with a net, stalked towards him. Before the cat could even contemplate running, the net scooped him up, surrounding him in a web of spongy material.

He shrieked. "Unhand me! Let me go! Stop!"

The humans did not reply and did not listen. Mooky thrashed madly, tearing at the net as hard as he could with his claws, but nothing gave — seconds later, the cage opened, and Mooky went tumbling inside. He leapt back to his feet, launching himself towards the door, but it had slammed shut in his face.

The truck rumbled to life around him. Horrified, Mooky clawed at the bars of his cage, desperately trying to break free. He saw the neighborhood cats through the bars, watching him solemnly, not lifting a paw to help.

"Help me!" he yowled at them. "Do something! Get me out of here!"

"Do something?" LoLo snorted. "Please! Now I won't have to guard my food bowl day and night!"

"Hear hear," One-ear said.

Susan, Lizzy, and the Russian said nothing, just watched expressionlessly as Lizzy's kits bounced around them.

"Bye, Mooky!" one kitten called.

"Have fun!" cried another.

The Kitten just twitched his fluffy tail sadly.

"No," Mooky gasped as the truck began to move. The cats grew smaller and smaller as the vehicle gunned back down the street. "No!" he howled. "No!" He turned, once again hollering at the Catchers taking him away. "Wait! Please—"

Then he noticed a dark shape sitting near the back of the cage, four times Mooky's size. It took him a minute to recognize what it was, to breathe in its heavy, pungent scent and realize that he'd smelled it before.

When he did, he went still, petrified with terror. The creature cocked its head to the side at the sight of Mooky's rigid figure, as if it found his frightened, bushy pelt to be amusing. Then, its muzzle split apart, displaying rows of thorn-sharp teeth.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF!" the dog barked before it lunged.

***

"MEOOOW!" Mooky jolted awake so abruptly that he nearly tumbled down out of his tree.

After a long, terrifying second of scrambling, Mooky finally realized that the barking had been a figment of his imagination, a shard from his nightmare, and that he was safe — relatively speaking. No dog was leaping towards him, intending on having his face for breakfast, but his face was in danger of being pancaked by the ground: his limbs were so creaky from crouching up in his tree all night that he was actually having trouble hanging on to his branch.

Mooky shivered — partly because his nightmare had woken him up earlier than usual, and the air was cooler, and partly because of the nightmare itself. He must've been thinking about Susan and the Russian and the Catcher way too much before he'd drifted off to sleep. Truly, the bad dream was warranted — he really was worried about what the two cats had told him yesterday, and he really was frightened at the prospect of being scooped up by humans, thrown in a cage, and taken away to the unknown, just like Tiger.

The thought of sharing that horrible ride with a dog scared him even more.

But after a brooding moment, Mooky let his fur lie flat. He was being foolish. If the Catchers came for him, he'd run and hide, wait for them to leave. He hadn't in the dream — he'd been too stupidly terrified to do so — but he wouldn't be that cowardly in real life. The Catchers couldn't actually be that scary.

Right?

Feeling a little better, Mooky checked to make sure that Kenny's stupid dog wasn't out before descending from the tree, stretching out in the grass when he reached the bottom. The cul-de-sac was still shaded in the receding shadows of the night, and above the trees, the sun was slowly turning the horizon pink.

But there was activity — with some surprise, he saw that there were some humans out, the same ones that had been unloading the moving truck at the yellow house yesterday. They were outside again, one man and one woman this time, pushing a couple of large boxes out of the truck and onto the grass. Several others already lay in the yard, along with a minefield of other strange items: furniture, it looked like from here. It appeared they hadn't finished moving in yet.

A dark streak in Mooky's peripheral vision suddenly caught his eye: he picked up the scent of the Kitten before making out the young tom's bushy tail. He was heading towards the yellow house, where the humans were unpacking their items.

"Hello," Mooky called out to him.

The Kitten paused, then continued towards the yellow house. "Good morning, Mooky!" he called over to him. "Hey, wanna come with me?"

Mooky paused, checking the street both ways for the feline's father. His ear hadn't forgotten the cuff it had gotten the last time he and the raggedy-eared tom had spoken, and he was in no mood for a repeat.

Luckily, it looked like the coast was clear — maybe One-ear was still sleeping. "All right." Mooky padded over and fell into step beside the Kitten. "Where are we going? The yellow house?"

"Yeah!" The bushy-tailed cat sounded excited. "I saw them moving stuff around the other day, and some of it looked kinda interesting. I wanna check it out!"

"But what about the humans?" Mooky asked, eyeing the two people moving about the yard uncomfortably.

"Don't worry, we'll be careful!" the Kitten reassured him. "C'mon!"

When they reached the dewy edge of the yard, the humans had disappeared into the house with a large cardboard box, grunting and yapping as they shoved it through the door. The Kitten padded forward excitedly.

"Wow, look at all of this weird stuff!" The Kitten gazed around, eyes shining in wonder at the assortment of odd things sitting in the wet grass. He paused before a circular, plastic object and hesitantly bent forward, sniffing it. "What's this thing?" he asked Mooky.

Mooky had seen something like it in his old home, except it had been much larger, clinging to the ceiling of the den like a large flower. "That's a fan," he explained.

"Really?" The Kitten batted at it with a paw. "What's it do?"

"On really hot days," Mooky said, "the humans turn it on and it makes wind."

The Kitten's eyes grew huge. "It makes wind?" he said in disbelief. "Wow."

His awe was fleeting — a second later, he bounded over to another item, sniffing it cautiously before leaping atop its flat surface. "What's this thing?" he asked. "It looks like a giant spider!"

"That's a chair," Mooky said, purring in amusement at the fluffy cat's fascination. "Humans sit on them." He paused, suddenly curious. "You should know that. You have owners, don't you? Don't they have some of this stuff?"

The Kitten bristled — Mooky blinked in surprise at the reaction. Had he said something wrong?

"Uh, well, yeah, she...she does." The brown feline sounded more embarrassed than angry. "I just, uh...I wanted to make sure."

"O-kay." Mooky didn't press on the subject — he didn't want to find out whether or not the cat had a temper like his father.

The Kitten leapt down from the chair. "Come on, Mooky! Tell me about this other stuff."

Mooky followed the young cat through the maze of boxes, sating the Kitten's curiosity as he explained, in turn, what each item was and what humans used it for. As the Kitten bounced around, eyes shining with excitement, Mooky began to feel wistful — again, his mind drifted to his blasted owners, to the comfortable, predicable life he'd lived with them. Seeing all the furniture, so similar to the things he'd had in his house... He felt his stupid heart again aching with nostalgia and the longing to go home.

Fool! he snapped at himself. Have you forgotten that they dumped you on the side of the road and left you to crouch in that drainage pipe all night? You should be glad they're gone! You're a free cat now!

Then he sighed: Yeah, until the Catcher comes for my fluffing behind.

Up ahead, the Kitten was sniffing at an overflowing box of clothing. "Hey, I've seen this stuff before," he said as Mooky came up. "These are the pelts that humans like wearing!"

"Clothing," Mooky corrected them. "And yeah, they wear it to stay warm." He sniffed at the sleeve of one of the pelts, drinking in the scent. He was surprised with how similar they smelled to his old owners: he could tell that one human man and one human woman was living in the yellow house. He narrowed his eyes in concentration as he picked up a third scent, not as hard as the first two: it was softer, warmer. Sweeter. He was certain that he'd smelled the likes of it before...but he couldn't quite place what it was.

A sudden, different scent overlaid the pungent aroma of humans, and this one claimed Mooky's attention: food.

The Kitten picked it up at the same time, ears pricking in excitement. "Hey, something smells yummy!"

It was coming from the porch. Ruffling and grunting from the interior of the house told Mooky that the humans were still occupied inside, so he padded forward, the Kitten right behind him. Two or three brick steps led up to a low cement patio, and the mouth-watering scent of food grew stronger as the two cats scaled them. Mooky's stomach, who had apparently forgotten that it was fairly empty, began growling, embarrassingly loud: beside him, the Kitten's whiskers twitched in amusement.

Then he turned and said, "I think it's coming from that...that thing."

That "thing" was a paper bag sitting near the edge of the porch: some kind of small, steaming container sat next to it. Cautiously, Mooky padded forward, sniffing at the hot container. A milky aroma was coming from inside, but it was tempered by a bitter undertone that told Mooky he probably shouldn't eat it, whatever it was. As the Kitten took a turn to sniff it, he turned to the bag, putting his nose at its crumpled opening. His stomach let out a harsh growl: aha! The tasty scent was coming from in here!

After checking to make sure that the humans were still at work, Mooky knocked the bag over and thrust a paw inside. His pads brushed against something warm and sticky, and he sank his claws in and, with some effort, pulled it out.

The Kitten cocked his head to the side. "Is that it?" The food item, whatever it was, had a swirled shape, and was covered in a rime of sweet-smelling frost. Mooky had never seen anything like it. The two cats bent slowly, and after a final sniff, Mooky boldly consumed a mouthful. Water flooded his mouth at the taste of cream, and the earthy, underlying taste of bread. The combination was exquisite; after swallowing the mouthful, he instantly wanted more.

"It's good!" he said. Eyes shining, the Kitten bit off a chunk and swallowed, his tail flicking in delight as he did so. Without speaking, the cats continued to tear off pieces by the mouthful—Mooky found himself swallowing too fast to even taste the sticky, overly-sweet food.

"This is...awesome," the Kitten gasped between bites. "What is this stuff?"

Before Mooky could reply, a loud squeak suddenly sounded behind them: "Kitty!"

The two cats immediately leapt to their paws, bristling. A tiny human stood behind them, looking unsteady on thick, wobbling legs. Its eyes were wide, its hair bushy and curly, its mouth agape as it stared down at the two cats with delighted disbelief.

Mooky slowly let his fur lie flat. It was just a baby human. Harmless, in his experience. A nose-ful of the human's warm, soft scent made him realize that this was the strange-but-familiar aroma he'd scented amongst the clothing a few minutes earlier — he remembered when his previous owner, now a wiry, red-headed girl, had worn a similar scent when she'd been much younger.

"Kitty," the human said again. It stumbled forward, footfalls loud and clumsy. It crouched in front of Mooky, reaching out a hand, and he extended his head forward, allowing the tiny human to pet his head. He felt himself purring a second later — it seemed like ages since someone had rubbed his head, and he found that he missed the affection that came with the gesture.

The human turned, reaching out for the Kitten. "Kitty," it said again.

The Kitten hissed — Mooky was shocked to see that the young cat's fur was still bushed out, making him resemble a large, furry tumbleweed. More disturbing yet, his claws were unsheathed, as if he planned to use them.

Mooky flicked the cat's flank with his tail, trying to get his attention. "Hey," he said. "It's all right, it won't hurt you. They're harmless at this age."

He didn't think the Kitten heard him: as the little human reached down for his head, the Kitten screeched and slashed at its hand. The human stumbled back in shock and let out a high, piercing wail.

That did it for Kitten: he bolted from the porch, and was back across the street in Lizzy's yard in seconds flat.

"Molly?" An alarmed roar from inside the house suddenly made Mooky crouch in alarm. "Molly? Sweetie? Where are you?"

Footsteps thundered towards him as the little human, Molly, fell to her rear before him, still wailing. Mooky was tempted to go forward and make sure that she was all right, but he realized that if those big humans came out and saw Molly crying with a slashed hand, they would think that he was the culprit. And the last thing he needed was angry humans chasing after him.

Casting Molly an apologetic glance, Mooky hopped down from the porch, making himself scarce.