Page 2 of Me and My Christmas Familiar

The chicken tasted divine. Better than anything he’d had in months.

“I’m Lachlan,” the man said, but he didn’t approach the cat, as if knowing any movement would cause the cat to flee. “I work here in the bakery with my siblings. I’ve got nine of them. It gets pretty loud and chaotic during the day in here, especially with the customers. But right now, it’s just me and it is peaceful.” He smiled.

The cat half listened as he ate. He kept his eyes darting over at the man, ensuring the man stayed where he was.

The man squatted. The cat tensed, gaze fixed on the man’s legs and feet. But the man did not move any more. Another memory flitted through the cat’s mind.

I had legs before. Like this man. I walked on two legs. I had no fur either.

And I had a name too. What was my name?

The cat couldn’t remember. He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten so much. It had been a long time since he’d heard his name that his parents had given him. They’d been furless too and walked on two legs.

Or had they?

The cat considered. He thought they walked on two legs. But as he thought, he seemed to remember they only walked on two legs sometimes. And sometimes they walked on four. Sometimes they had fur. Sometimes not. Sometimes they’d been humans. Sometimes they’d been cats.

The cat tried to think that through whilst scarfing down the chicken.

After a moment, he shoved those confusing thoughts away.

None of that matters now.

That was all long ago, in the before. Before the streets. Before the alleys. Before all the people.

Before, he’d lived amongst trees. And in the long before, he’d lived somewhere else, near fields of crops and in a big wooden building with his parents.

“You don’t look so good, kitty.” Lachlan eyes ran along the cat’s form. “What happened to your tail?”

The cat tensed. A dog had chased him. He’d scampered, legs working as hard as they could as the dog’s mouth snapped and gripped. Pain tore through him as half his tail had been ripped from his body. There’d been blood. So much blood.

He’d hid for days, licking at the wounded remains of his tail until hunger had forced him out again.

“You poor thing,” Lachlan spoke softly, gently, as if he could hear the cat’s thoughts. “And you’re missing part of your ear too.” His eyes held notes of sadness and concern. “I could look after you…if you wanted.”

The cat paused. What did the man mean? That Lachlan would give him more chicken? He liked that idea.

The cat finished the food. He paused, staring at the man. The man seemed kind.

He wondered how far that kindness extended. A strange tug grew inside him. He didn’t want to leave the man. He wanted to go to him. He wanted to enter the building and be warm.

But no. The cat should not trust so easily. Whatever urges he felt, they must be ignored. The cat began to slink away.

But maybe he’d come back tomorrow. Then he’d find out if the man’s kindness lasted more than one day. He darted into the shadows.

“Bye, kitty,” Lachlan called out.

CHAPTER 2

Lachlan’s brother, Jack, snored in the bed opposite him. The room lay in darkness. No rays of sunlight filtered through the drawn curtains. It would be hours before the sun rose. Still, Lachlan stood and began his day in the dark.

Silently, he dressed and left the room he shared with Jack. He made his way to the front door. He pulled on his robes and pointed hat, left the apartment, and climbed down the rickety stairs to their bakery below.

Whilst many considered a witch’s hat and robes old-fashioned and more appropriate for witches two generations older than himself, he felt they suited him. He liked to think of himself as an old-fashioned witch, even if some gave him odd looks. He paused halfway down the stairs and rested his hand on the cool railing. He glanced around the empty alley.

No movement or sign of the cat. Not yet, anyway. But it was still very early. The cat had been returning the past few days. The brief moments with the kitty had quickly become the highlight of Lachlan’s day.

Lachlan walked down the rest of the stairs and moved towards the bakery door. He didn’t bother reaching for the handle. The door swung open, welcoming him.