Menagerie of Philosophy

This piece was selected as an Honorable Mention in the First Chapters Contest, hosted in partnership with Penguin Random House and Electric Lit.

In Which Cat Opens the Bag

“We’re all going to die,” Cat blurts out while in the middle of a yawn. The animals ignore him. Cat, the “honorary” member of the Assembly, is sleeping on the job as usual, while everyone else is hard at work mobilizing the animals, protecting the woods, stopping the humans.

To the right of the circle is Bear, the Assembly’s expert linguist, who is responsible for writing rebellion pamphlets in Animal Morse Code, a language consisting of sounds common in their respective dialects. Among the branches is Yellowhammer, the Assembly’s messenger, who circulates the pamphlets across the forest, sends requests, and receives calls for help. On the left is Stag, the Assembly’s guard, who is better at camouflage than combat. Next to him is Platypus, hydraulics extraordinaire, who maps out the water pathways for escape and for floods. In the center standing on the stump is Fox, surveying all of the Assembly’s operations.

And its shenanigans.

“Cat, focus,” she says. “We have no time for your death threats.”

“But, Fox,” he whines as he saunters his way to her stump. “This is my volition. Call it my,” Cat waves his paw in the air, “my sense that my ninth life is nearing the end.”

“It will end if we waste our efforts fearing death.” Fox stares down at him with no warmth in her eyes. “We must prepare for the next human attack.”

The rest of the animals bark, yap, tweet in agreement. Her words, confident and assured, weigh heavier than his. After all, when the Assembly was a fledgling of an idea, it was Fox who recruited the animals, Fox who organized them, and Fox who trained them.

While Cat…Cat was just her kit, her scant evidence of a domestic life outside of the Assembly. Fox took him in as a kitten and tried to raise him to be a ruthless, cunning animal like her. Instead, he grew up to be a temperamental cat, who rather play with his food than eat it. Yet Fox offered him a seat at the Assembly, and he accepted it at once. As a member, maybe he could be treated as an equal than her pet, maybe he could finally belong in the woods, maybe he could be the kit she always envisioned for him to become. But now, here he was, sitting and doing nothing while every other animal had a part to play.

He observes Fox as she barks senseless orders to the animals, hoping to find a flicker of disappointment or resentment in her stoicism. Of course, there’s none.

Silly Cat, he thinks, you’re her little kit, her nepotic guest. You’re not important enough for her emotions.

“Code red! Code red!” Yellowhammer whistles, breaking his reverie. “There’s a wildfire, 10 miles out in the northwest region.”

“See?” Cat laughs. “We’re all going to—”

“Places, everyone.” Fox deftly jumps from the stump. “Yellowhammer, fly to the site and guide the animals to Eastern Creek, where Bear will take them to the nearest haven.”

They nod.

“Stag, take the quickest route to the area and remove the debris.”

He exits.

“Platypus, reroute the Silver River to extinguish the fire. The beavers will be there to remove the barricade.”

He bows.

“And Cat.”

His ears perk up.

“Return to the den. This is too dangerous for you to handle.”

“No—”

But she is gone before he can finish his thought.

He lets out a second laugh, mirthless and sweet. It sounds even frailer in an empty Assembly, where only the obedient weak are left behind.

“They’re all going to die,” Cat tells an outside audience. “The story is spoiled milk, so why drink it? Go on now. Buh bye. Find some other animals to personify.”

No one responds.

Cat trudges to the den.

Alone.