Ferdinand jumped effortlessly onto the bed and surveyed the situation, the tabby’s ginger and white tail gently sweeping back and forth as he eyed his humans. The long-haired one was rolled over on its ride side with sheets pulled up to cover everything but its face.
The short-haired one was on its back – covers twisted around its knees and mouth agape – emitting strange, rhythmic noises.
The cat walked over both people – gently – getting no response from the long-hair but prompting the short-hair to grunt, snort, and gracelessly shift.
Ferdinand crept toward the footboard and peered at the door leading out of the bedroom.
“It’s OK, Tinker … come on up.”
The small moggy, still a bit unsteady after just seven weeks walking the planet, wobbled forward.
“Too high,” he squeaked. “It too high.”
Ferdinand jumped down and nuzzled the kitten.
“That’s why you have claws, little dude,” said the older feline, who had lived in the same house with the humans for almost nine years. “You have to latch onto the side of the bed and climb up. That’s how I learned way back when the humans picked me up from the Giant Cage.”
Tinker stood on his hind legs and placed his front paws on the bed’s comforter.
“Now,” Ferdinand said, “just let your claws out. And then dig in. Once you do that, you just keep moving your paws up, up, up, and next thing you know, you’ll be on the bed. It’s as easy as that.”
Tinker was able to attach himself to the fabric but once hooked, he simply hung there, staring at Ferdinand.
“I scared.”
Ferdinand jumped back on the bed, his head directly above Tinker.
“Nothing to be scared of. Even if you fall, it won’t matter. Know why? Because you’re a cat. We jump, and sometimes we miss. When we miss, we fall. And when we fall, we get back up and jump again.”
Tinker put one paw in front of the other and slowly worked his way up the comforter – his fluffy, chocolate-colored tail curling with each movement. Finally, he hoisted himself on the top of the bed next to Ferdinand.
“It big,” said the kitten. “It big and soft.”
“It is,” Ferdinand said. “And they get on it every night. They talk, and then they nip each other on the face, and then they get quiet … like we get quiet throughout the day.”
“They rest?”
“They do. And we let them rest for a while because they need it.”
Tinker slowly walked between long-hair and short hair, taking quick sniffs. He then rolled up into a ball near their heads.
“Be ready, Tinker,” Ferdinand whispered. “If long-hair wakes up, it’ll grab you and bite you on the head. If short-hair wakes up, it’ll start rubbing you there. Not sure what it is about them, but they seem drawn to our heads. Watch this …”
Ferdinand made a quick jump and landed on short-hair’s chest, causing the human to open its eyes. He then tapped short hair on the face, causing it to mumble and start scratching Ferdinand’s chin. The scratching was brief as the human closed its eyes and fell back asleep.
“It sweet,” Tinker said, looking up at big brother.
“It is,” Ferdinand said with a purr. “It likes to bite our heads and rub our heads, and it also gives us food and cleans our bathroom and lets us stay inside where the water monsters from the sky can’t hurt us. Short-hair and long hair have been very good pets for as long as I’ve had them.”
Tinker rolled over on his back.
“Ferdinand,” he asked, “they stay with us forever?”
Ferdinand stretched and yawned.
“Forever and ever. They’d be helpless without us.”
