Cats
Not dedicated to T.S. Eliot or Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Buffy turned the corner onto Revello Drive, whistling a jaunty tune. It had been a good night; slaying three vampires, followed by a round of lovemaking with her personal bloodsucker. Life was on an upswing.
A large tabby cat appeared from the bushes, and rubbed against her leg. “Hello, kitty,” Buffy said, rubbing it behind the ears. It purred with pleasure, then let forth a loud meow. A large ginger emerged from the same bushes and approached the Slayer. It was followed by two very large calicos. Suddenly, there were cats everywhere, and they didn’t want to be petted. They jumped on Buffy, swarming her, nipping at her. They were biting at her hands, her face. She tried to bat them off, but she was overwhelmed. The horde knocked her to the ground. She screamed as a Manx tore a chunk from her cheek. She knew they would devour her.
Buffy opened her eyes to find Miss Kitty Fantastico perched on her chest, licking her with a sandpaper tongue. The young woman jumped with fright and the cat flew off the bed. The Slayer lay in her bed, shaking.
“What’s the matter, love?” Spike asked, wrapping his bare arm around her. “Bad dream?”
“Cats,” she replied. “Everywhere. All over me. They looked like pets, but they were wild. They were eating me.”
Miss Kitty jumped back up on the bed and settled on top of the lovers’ feet, appearing to doze off. “Prob’ly because of that thing,” he said, pointing to the intruder. He held Buffy close. “My poor pet. Nasty dream. Sounds like feral cats.”
“Watsit cats?” she asked, snuggling close and trying to kick off the supine feline, who refused to budge.
“Feral cats. Domestic cats gone wild. You should see the ones in the Roman forum. Huge, untamed things.” He was having no more success than Buffy kicking Miss Kitty from her lodging place of choice. “What’s she doin’ here, anyway? Thought Tara had ‘er.”
“Willow’s week for visitation.” Giving up, Buffy sat up and reached for the cat, scratching it behind the ear. “I sympathize, child of divorce that I am.” Rising reluctantly from the bed, she picked up the cat and put it in the hallway. “Go see mommy.” She shut the door behind it, and climbed back in the bed. She wrapped herself around Spike. “You remind me of a cat. Wiry and sleek, and stubborn as hell.”
“Then that makes two of us.” He nuzzled her neck and licked it.
“What are you doing?” Buffy giggled.
“Trying to make you purr.”