Journal of a Les Mis cat

- for Leanne, Sharon and Markus
by michelle zeman

Cats are supposed to be loners. Not me. I for one was afraid of being alone.
The times are hard. The people are hurting. The dark ravenous city can devour
its weakest gamin and its heartiest gendarme. Too many near death encounters
have left me wary of the world around me. Wary - hell, I was scared silly.
Maybe that's one reason that I hung around the ABC cafe. The cafe was always
bustling with young bodies. Plenty of warm laps and spilled food
make this cat a very happy kitten.

The ABC Café

Will you take your place with me?
BOOM!!

Wood creaked and groaned above me- splinters and dust rained down.
He was on the table again.

I hastily back-pawed it to the safety of the now abandoned chair. I began the
newly acquired tedious process of licking my fur free of debris. The table
continued to quake and tremble under the impassioned fiery out-burst of that
student fellow, Enjolras. I could not help but wonder if he would be as
enthusiastic if he could see from my cats' point of view - the precarious
support in which he was placing so much faith. Tonight it held strong - as it
always seemed to.

The rest of the students had scattered to their various homes across the
city. Deprived of the body heat of the rowdy group - the cafe was no longer
protected from the bitter night air. I looked around hopefully for one
lingering lap. Then I saw it. The leader was still here - alone hunched
over that same table. I knew he would be. This one was on some kind of
mission. He also always seemed to be alone. For all the starry eyed young men
that followed him around like puppies - he always seemed to be separate from
the others.

Feeling a bit presumptuous and seeing no other in sight,
I tip-toed up to the chair. Taking one last deep breath, I hopped up
into his lap. Finding myself in unfamiliar territory, I resisted my usual
kneading instinct and settled down quickly. Better not to be too
presumptuous. It was quiet, comfortable and warm. I listened to the
scratching and rustling sounds coming from the table slightly above me.
Gently I found myself lulled into a serene half-sleep.

Without warning- my sanctuary was gone! Finding myself unexpectedly in
mid-air I panicked - claws scrambling for footing. Something caught
momentarily and then I was on the floor. My heart still in my throat, I stood
frozen staring at the pair of legs now standing besides the chair. Staring at
the long scratches now tearing through the trousers. I saw the first seepage
of blood and I bolted for the farthest corner under the bar. Praying that I
would miss the kick that I was certain would flatten my tail.

It never came.

Ears back, eyes wide - I stared at the figure across the room from me. He was
standing but still hunched over whatever it was that he had on that table.
After reaching what was apparently unreachable in a seated position, he sat
back down. It was incredible. He must be in shock. I ran up to the table
and hopped to the top. I was amazed - astounded that he had no reaction. Had
I killed him?

I pawed right up to him staring into his face for the first time.
Then he was staring back at me. Instantly I was caught by beautiful
hypnotic blue eyes. But something in the gaze made me backpaw a few paces.
I gulped. Eternal moments later, the mesmerizing gaze relaxed
and returned once more to the table top - releasing me.

I looked down as well to the space in front of my paws - where I had retreated to
and saw huge sheets of paper. Besides a few new paw prints,
lines and lettering filled the pages. His fingers moved with skill and determination- adding more lines - more lettering. His passion was palpable.
It was also all-consuming.

My whiskers twitched - still thinking of the unintentional and obviously ignored bloody scratches.

At the Barricade

Can it be you fear to die?

The time was here all right. My eyes were stinging with it - my nose burning
with it. The first blood had been shed. The first soul had been lost. The
first attack, although repelled had left its own victims. Victims not in body
but in spirit. I could see it in each shaken figure, each shadowed face. The
taste of victory that had sweetened the adrenaline rush following the battle
seeped away as rapidly as it had roared forward. Cold reality replaced it
with each calculation of the enemies' remaining strength against the
students' remaining ammunition. If the people were going to rise - I wished
they would do it soon.

Night fell. The next attack wouldn't come until the light but everyone was
told to stay awake anyway. The boy - Marius was told to rest.
That seemed to me to be the better advice and I was glad that it
was at least given to Marius.

I watched the rest of the students gather around tables brought from the cafe,
leaving me with a haunting reminder of earlier days - when the world
had seemed conquerable. Only Enjolras was missing from his usual spot
on the tabletop. Instead he took a place at the top of the barricade -alone again.

A few quick hops and I was beside him. Perhaps he didn't share my fear
of being alone - but my night vision was certainly better than his and I wanted to give whatever support a cat can give. At least that is what I told myself.

A few moments after I took my place - he turned to me - resting that powerful gaze upon me once more. I saw apprehension quickly followed by relief in those blue eyes. Then a wry smile on his lips. Then a hand was reaching out to my back.
It wasn't some pathetically condescending gesture - ruffling away a day's
hard work of licking each fur to it's proper place. It was gentle yet strong.
Affectionate yet respectful. It was wonderful.

My eyes turned to the night - searching for shadows that I was praying would never come.

The night that ends at last

Dawn tore across the horizon - streaks of light igniting the barricade -
shattering our night vigil. I watched the troops gathering force outside.
Their numbers sent terror through my heart.

Suddenly I felt hands snatching me from my place. To another set of hands
and then I was hurled through a space in the wood pile. I found myself under the barricade. I looked through the cracks - spotting the figure belonging to
the hands that had thrown me. Marius's boots disappeared from my view
through the wood - joining his friend at the top of the barricade.

I shivered as the day seemed to explode.

A breath away from hell
Bloody bodies everywhere. Blood was all around me. But it was brown - dark,
soiled. It was the blood of death.

I looked up and saw a patch of red - soiled but still bright and bold.
I stumbled over bits of broken wood and debris, oblivious to the painful
splinters piercing my paws. My heart still pounding from the shock.
My ears still ringing from the silence.

As I drew nearer the bright blur of color focused until I could clearly identify it
- a red waistcoat. The figure in the waistcoat was lying sprawled upside-down,
arms flung outward, legs tangled in a fallen flag. Eyes still open
to the world below him. Closer still, I could see the bold redness
of the coat appeared broken as bright spots soaked the white shirt
beneath. Half of the spots had already darkened. His chest still moved
- the soaring spirit ever struggling but the breath was short gasping.
There was no time left.

The day abandoned us - leaving icy breezes to taunt us. I moved closer -
laying my furry body next to his - providing what little I could.
Warmth and companionship was all there was left to give. My head rested on
his bare neck, the weak pulse supplying my own comfort.

The chest that was rising and falling below my paws stilled. My ears strained
to hear the heart that had beat so strong. There was silence. And I was
alone.

I looked down into the open eyes that could no longer see the blood that
surrounded us. The passionate fiery gaze was gone but a peaceful one had
replaced it. At that moment - a new breeze broke the night air - lifting my
fur in a familiar embrace. A warm caress over my body. Gentle yet strong.
Affectionate yet respectful. Tears I couldn't shed glistened in my eyes. My
heart full. Knowledge and hope flooded my soul.

No one is alone. Not when you have friends that will stand with you at the
Barricade. Not when you have people to pick you up when you are hurting and
carry you home. Not when your spirit is so strong it lives on in those you've
inspired. Those who love you.

I would never be alone.