When Mooky climbed down his tree the next morning, he was surprised to find Susan sitting at the bottom, waiting for him.

"Morning," the white cat said.

"Susan!" Mooky greeted him. "Thanks for distracting LoLo yesterday."

The white cat snorted. "Not a problem. It was fun, making that old furball spit."

Mooky envied Susan's arrogance regarding LoLo — when he'd headed back to his tree yesterday, the elderly cat had been sitting out in his driveway again, his fur bristling in hostility. Mooky wasn't sure whether or not the feline knew that he'd been warming up to his owner, but the cat's furious blue gaze had been enough to make Mooky scurry past.

"What're you doing here?" Mooky asked. "Did you need something?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to share some food with me," Susan asked. To Mooky's surprised look, he said, "Our owners fill our bowls three times a day! I don't know what the Russian does with all of that food, but I'm not interested in gaining weight. And I can't let the ants have it now, can I?"

Mooky nodded. "Thanks," he said with some relief — his belly had been growling uncomfortably last night. "Shall we go?"

As they padded out into the street, Susan said, "Russian told me about your performance yesterday. Going to see that old human again today?"

Mooky hadn't thought about that. But he supposed that if he wanted the old woman to take him in when LoLo died, he had to be persistent. "I guess," he said.

"Good! I'll distract LoLo again for you."

Mooky gave him a wry glance. "You really do like tormenting him, don't you?" He actually began to feel sorry for the old cat.

"Can't help it — LoLo was a bit of a bully when I was younger. It's nice to see the roles reversed." The white tom suddenly paused, going stiff. Mooky turned to see that he was gazing into Lizzy's yard. The tortoiseshell she-cat was resting in the shadows beneath the enormous hedge, watching as her kits tumbled about in the yard. One of the tiny little cats noticed Mooky and Susan standing in the street and padded forward — the rest followed, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Susan!" a kitten squeaked. "And Moobie!"

"Mooky," Mooky said in exasperation.        

"Hello, little ones," Susan said. Something about his voice changed, making Mooky's ears prick: the white-and-ginger tom's tone became warm and very gentle. "How are you all doing?"

"We were having a jumping contest!" one kit said. She straightened her spine proudly, her tail high. "I won!"

"No she didn't!" another kitten protested. "I did!"

"No, I did!" another kit squeaked. "I almost touched one of the clouds!"

Mooky glanced at Susan in amusement, and the white tom said, "Hmm, looks like we need a tie-breaker, eh Mooky?" He lifted his orange tail and said. "How about this? Whoever can catch the tip of my tail wins."

The kittens eagerly leapt forward, but some of them seemed to have forgotten that they were supposed to be aiming for Susan's tail: they launched themselves at his chest and flank, and before Mooky knew it, the tom was covered in tiny, writhing cats.

"I win!" a kitten squeaked.

"No, I did!" another said.

"Nuh-uh, I did!" said a third. "I've got his tail!"

"That's my ear, you lump!" Susan cried. Mooky purred with mirth when he saw him struggling. "Get off of me, you little furballs!"

"Kits!" An angry, high-pitched cry made Mooky flinch. "Back in the yard!"

Mooky turned to see an angry-looking Lizzy marching towards them, her bared teeth and flattened ears radiating hostility.

One kit looked up and said, "But Mommy, we were just—"

"Now!"

Quailing beneath her angry hiss, the kittens quickly crawled off of Susan and scurried to her side. Susan crawled back to his paws, licking his rumpled white pelt.

"Relax, Lizzy," he said. "They were only playing."

Lizzy said nothing, but gave an angry lash of her tail. She flashed Mooky an annoyed look before abruptly turning, herding the kits back towards the porch. Mooky watched them disappear through the cat-flap in the door, bewildered at the she-cat's furious hostility.

"In a bad mood, as usual," Mooky said to Susan. The white-and-ginger tom didn't reply, simply stared at the cat flap. His eyes were narrowed into frustrated green slits, surprising Mooky.

"Susan?" he asked uncertainly.

Without preamble, Susan said, "Those kits are mine."

Mooky's tail stiffened in shock. "What? Really?" He recalled some of the kits having creamy white spots and said, "So, er, Lizzy is your—?"

"Was." Susan continued licking down his ruffled fur — Mooky noted that his voice had softened, becoming wistful. "Would you believe that she was once a sweet, friendly cat?"

That was a stretch. "Um...what happened?" Mooky asked.

He half-expected that Susan wouldn't answer, but the cat shrugged and said, "Things. I don't like being tied down."

With that, he turned and headed down the street, tail low. After a moment, Mooky followed, still surprised at the revelation that Lizzy and Susan had once been mates. It brought up all sorts of questions, such as: why did Lizzy seem to be trying to keep the kits away from Susan if he was their father? Did they know that Susan was their father? What had happened to separate the two cats?

I don't like being tied down. Had Susan mated with another cat? Mooky didn't know much about she-cats, but he suspected that might be enough to drive Lizzy away. With a look at Susan's drooping tail, he wondered whether or not the tom missed his mate.

***

Susan recovered his good spirits soon enough.

After they shared a meal on Susan's porch and chatted, while washing, with the Russian, they headed over to LoLo's house. Mooky hid under the hedge while Susan trotted up to the porch to provoke LoLo.

It wasn't long before the two were racing out of the yard, angry screeches filling the air: "SUSAN! GET BACK HERE!"

Not long after, the LoLo's old owner again creaked out of the house, brandishing her broom. Mooky hurried out from his hiding spot, scaling the steps of the porch. He caught her attention early this time: she paused in her sweeping as he reached the top of the steps, meowing out a greeting.

"Back again, are you?" Her hostile tone gave Mooky pause; he realized that he'd appeared beside LoLo's food bowl and, after what had happened yesterday, he could guess how that looked.

"Go on!" the woman snapped — Mooky shrank back at the anger in her tone. "Go find your own food, you little thief! There're plenty of those trifling squirrels about! Go catch one of them!"

Would that I could! Seeing no other choice, Mooky raced back down the steps, not stopping until he was certain that the woman wasn't following with her broom. He thumped down into the grass, feeling discouraged at the old woman's rebuff.

Why doesn't anything go my way?

***

He returned to the Russian's house and, when Susan eventually returned after outrunning LoLo, spoke of his embarrassing failure. Both cats regarded him sympathetically as he spoke, and the Russian encouraged him, saying that he wouldn't win the old lady over in a day. But with enough persistence, it could be done.

Mooky wished he shared their confidence in the matter. But he couldn't help but feel tense as he headed back to his tree later that afternoon, hoping to sleep away the day's stresses. He remembered his nightmare, of how the Catchers had roared, out of the blue, down the street and had scooped him up and tossed him in that cage. What if that happened tomorrow, just as suddenly? Mooky's persistence wouldn't do anything to save him then.

Mousetails! He needed new owners. And soon.

"Mooky."

He paused, abruptly brought out of his brooding. It was Lizzy's voice that had called out to him, and he could see her padding through her yard towards him, eyes narrowed. Behind her, her kits were playing up on the porch, squeaking and tussling, while others dozed off in little groups.

Mooky paused to lick down his bristling fur. He couldn't help it — the she-cat's thorny attitude made him wary. "Hi, Lizzy," he said. "Something wrong?"

The cat glanced suspiciously down the street — with a jolt, Mooky realized that she was looking for Susan. "He's at home," he said.

She bristled, as if offended by his comment. "I saw you at LoLo's house today," she remarked. "What were you doing?"

"Uh..." Mooky explained, though he couldn't fathom why the she-cat was interested. "Why?" he asked when he'd finished. "Something I should know?"

Lizzy said, "That won't work. That batty old human's had LoLo from since before I was born. I doubt she'll take a liking to another cat after he's gone."

Mooky's tail twitched in surprise — and despair. Lizzy's bleak and harsh assessment of the matter wasn't really helping his fleeting confidence. But he suddenly felt more curious than disheartened. "Um, no offense, but why do you care?"

Lizzy dug her claws into the grass and again looked up and down the street, as if afraid that someone would hear her. Uncomfortably, she said, "I can help you."

What? Mooky was taken aback by the sudden offer. "Really?"

"Yes, really," she snapped. She glared at him. "Well?"

"Okay... What do you suggest?" He was stunned at the turn this conversation had taken.

Lizzy shifted uneasily again, glancing once back at her kits before saying, "My owners want me to have more kits." She paused.

"Okay," Mooky said uncertainly.

Lizzy cleared her throat. "But I don't have a mate, so at the moment, I can't."

Mooky cocked his head, puzzled. "Have you talked to Susan about it?" he asked.

Lizzy bristled again, her eyes burning with anger. "How do you know about that?"

Mooky shrank back. "He...he told me!" he stammered, wondering if he should run while he still had all of his fur.

Lizzy looked outraged. "That was none of your business!"

"I-I'm sorry." How was it his fault that Susan had decided to tell him that he and Lizzy had once been mates?

Fortunately for him and his fur, Lizzy seemed to realize that fact: after a moment, her fur flattened, and she said in a rough meow, "It doesn't matter. That's over. Right now, I need a new mate." She stared at him, her eyes wide for once, waiting for him to catch her meaning.

Alarm jolted through Mooky. "Me?" he said shrilly. Disbelief washed through him as Lizzy nodded — disbelief because this was not how he'd expected to mate for the first time, and disbelief because she was so blatantly asking him to betray Susan.

"I can't do that!" he cried. "What if Susan—?"

"Relax," Lizzy said, sounding annoyed. "It would just be for pretend."

"Pretend?" Mooky shook his head. "Then what's the point?" A thought suddenly reached him, and before he could stop himself, the words were out of his mouth: "Are you doing this to get back at Susan?"

Too late, Mooky realized his mistake: fury burned in Lizzy's eyes, and her mouth parted in an enraged hiss. Her claws leapt out of their sheathes, and her muscles bunched, ready to spring at him.

Oh, mousetails! She's going to eat me! But before Mooky could make himself scarce, she seemed to deflate: her shoulders drooped, and her tail gave a disheartened sweep.

"No," she mumbled, suddenly looking three times smaller than she had seconds ago. "I'm not. This has nothing to do with him."

Right, sounds like it. Mooky couldn't help but note the way her voice broke at the mention of her former mate. The prickly she-cat seemed to still have feelings for the white tom, however much she tried to hide it.

Lizzy abruptly straightened, fire returning to her eyes as she glared at him. "If you become my pretend mate," she said, "my owners will provide you with housing. Food. Water. Shelter. Isn't that what you want?"

Mooky's fur prickled at the sound of those necessities. He was tired of searching for food and water. He was tired of crouching up in that tree at night, exposed to the elements. What he wouldn't give for a food bowl, a cat bed, and a permanent roof over his head.

But what Lizzy was suggesting...to get those things, he would be betraying his friend, Susan, who had done nothing but help him since he'd stepped paw into this cul-de-sac. The thought of biting him in the back by becoming Lizzy's mate, even for pretend, soured his tongue.

But maybe, just maybe... The two cats were separated, right? Maybe if Mooky just explained the situation to Susan, told him why he was doing it... Susan had to understand, right?

"Okay," he said, sounding less than confident about his decision. "I guess I can do that."

Lizzy's eyes narrowed. "Hang on," she said. "I never said that I'd do it."

What? "What're you...what do you mean?" Mooky demanded.

"You have to do something for me first."

Mooky snorted. "Becoming your mate isn't enough?"

Anger flashed through Lizzy's eyes, but she said, "If you want to become my mate, get new owners, food, water...you have to get rid of that." She flicked her tail, gesturing to something over Mooky's shoulder. He turned, scanning the opposite side of the street and, to his dismay, saw that the calico cat had been gesturing towards Kenny's dog, who was pacing restlessly behind its fence.

He whirled around, incredulous. "What...the dog?" he exclaimed. "You want me to get rid of that?"

"Yes." Lizzy's reply was deadpan. "Can you do it?"

How could she even ask him that? "No, I can't do it!" he snapped. "What on earth is the matter with you? Do you hate me that much? Do you want to see me get torn to shreds? Is this fun for you?"

Lizzy's tail lashed. "Nothing about this is fun!" she snapped. "You think I want that stupid thing here, on the same street where my kits play? You think I want it breaking out every other day, chasing my friends? Because I don't!" Mooky shrank back, stunned at her outburst, and she said, "The humans won't do anything about it. It breaks out and wreaks havoc, and they say nothing when its owner drags it back to its yard. Unless we do something, it's going to keep breaking out, and soon, it's going to kill another kit—" She faltered at the end, her voice dropping out.

"Kill another kit?" Mooky echoed. He saw Lizzy look down at her paws, working the grass in distress. "Lizzy, what... Did something happen to one of your kits?" He glanced up in horror at her kittens, all of which had collapsed into furry heaps, tuckered out from play-fighting.

"Lizzy?" he asked again.

The cat abruptly whirled around. "Do something about that dog!" she snapped. "Or I won't help you, and you can stay on the streets!" She returned to her porch, tail twitching in aggravation.