The Basket of Seeds
by Ska St. Julian
Swiftly the word began to spread that Füzzy was going out for the Mystery Cathood. The news traveled among the beauti cats, and the cutie cats. Füzzy’s kitty friends knew of his decision for much long and long much: they knew even before he realized it himself. One of his most especialest friend who knew is Pistil. Füzzy had never before met such a furry, such a fluffy, such a silky cat, so long and majestic, with fur of beautiful colors, a white spot on his back as if someone had dipped a paintbrush on him a bit, and a long, long, and beautiful tail. The tail curled like a floateen string. And Pistil was veti furry.
Füzzy spoke to him much, and tickled him under chin, and petted his twitchy ears. “Pistil,” he said, “it can see the whole world inside your ears.”
“Füzzy, you so cute and silly. You veti smart.”
“It should like to be a cat like you, I want to do all the things you do and go all the places you go. I want to be a cat in somebody’s sleep.”
Pistil thought this was good idea; good good, veti good. He looked up with his eyes to the sky and saw floateens hanging there, and said, ”It can make me tail like a floateen string. I can stand it up and twitch it, and curl it like a curling string.”
Füzzy said this was beautifil, and Pistil said, “It has seen bats hang upside down. I know how to pose like a bat.”
Füzzy said, “So do I. I do too.”
Pistil stretched himself out and put one back paw facing in each direction, east and west, and let his tail be veti flat. “See?” he said. “Now I’m a bat.”
Füzzy said, “Wa, this is most beautifil. Can you pick up things with your ears?”
Pistil said, “Ee, I hear everything. I hear all the sounds of the forest.”
“No, the other way. Can you hold things in you ears, and grasp them?”
Pistil chuckled, “No, it don’t do that. You veti silly. But we can teach you how to be a cat!”
Füzzy said, “It would love to be cat. It want to be a cat in people’s sleep. How can I learn?”
“We can take you to the cat school, and you can learn. It will take a long time. Can you sit perfectly still?”
Füzzy gave this some thought. “Donno. But to be a cat, it will try.”
* * *
Cats always noticed Füzzy, in the forest, in the sleep, in general, but now they take particular notice of him, including a local kitty named Celeste, a tabby with beauti striping, lovely white paws, and a charming white bib.
Celeste is out walking one day with her human daddy Von (this part of the forest is a bit off the beaten path, and so he accompany her) when she first lays her green, green eyes on Füzzy. “Wa!” she says. “Who is that pretty dream?”
“That is Füzzy, of the purple sleep,” Von replies.
“That is Füzzy, the human dream who wants to be cat?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
She wonders: go and talk to him? Stay and watch him? Send an admiring letter in screen? While she is wondering, Füzzy assumes his snaily form. Celeste is amazed: “Did you see, Daddy Von? He a snail!” And she made sure to have his purple sleep that night, his furry purple sleep, hoping he would make this transformation again.
Also that night, Füzzy said to Baby Bud, ”When I became snail, I heard a little voice admiring me and calling me pretty names. Was it you, Baby Bud?”
“No, but you is a pretty snail.”