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The Naming of Jemima
By Roalee

“C’mon, Rosco, tha’ there moggie won’t go nowheres. Let ‘er down now.”

“A’right,” replied a hulking brute of a human. He delicately let down a purring ball of fur. She stretched, wound around Rosco’s legs a couple of times and sprung onto the one soft chair in the room.

‘My pet is just a bouquet of tastes and smells today,’ the kitten mused as she put her fur back into place. She was just licking her white chest fur smooth when she heard a familiar noise... the clattering of a food bowl.

“’Ere ye go cutie-pie. That’s a right lass.” Her pet’s huge hand flourished as he presented the food. The small tortoiseshell kitten leapt down quickly and hurried to the supper awaiting her.

“’Ey Ros’ ol’ boy, I don’t know ‘ow ye can be such a big tough guy wi’ such a cute moggie li’ tha’.”

“Oh, don’t let ‘er sweet big eyes fool ya. She be a right scrapper, she be. When I found ‘er she was in a tight spot, she was, backed into a niche in the alley by some right mean cats, they were. She were ‘issin’ and clawin’ and she weren’t scared of them ‘orrible beasts.” Rosco was stroking the young cat as she ate heartily.

“Tha’s why I keeps ‘er. She is a cat after me own ‘art. And looky at the colla’ I gave ‘er. It was part of one of me wrist guards.” He held up the matching leather adornment to show his friend. Rosco’s friend gave it an appraising look and sighed.

“Well, to each ‘is own. C’mon then, if... wha’s ‘er name anyway?”

“Jemima. I named her after me mum.”

“Ah, right. If Jemima’s sufficiently fed, can we go? I don’t want the rest of the boys to know that we were late because their big, brave leader was caught up with a pussycat.” He batted his eyes at Rosco and pursed his lips.

The large man growled and grabbed his beloved leather jacket off the chair. He gritted his teeth and said menacingly, “I can still wallop ye and smash yer nose if ye don’t lay off it. Wha’ do ya say to tha’?”

Jemima listened in amusement as the two humans headed out the door. Her pet was really one of the sweetest, kindest humans she had ever met. But like all males, he had to defend his territory by being tough.

She remembered when she chose her pet. She really hadn’t expected to like him so fast. She also didn’t expect to get into trouble the day she decided to go off on her own. Her sheltered upbringing hadn’t quite prepared her for an encounter with Strays. Besides, she was barely three months old, just weaned from her mother, and very curious. She was also very small for her age.

Sneaking away from Jellylorum wasn’t too difficult. She was just one of the many kittens that the older cat was in charge of watching. The smallest of the group was easily forgotten.

‘I know leaving is a bad idea, but who needs to know all this stuff?’ she wondered as Jellylorum recounted the history of the Jellicles. ‘I’m outta here.’

When she finally inched far enough away, she raced out the Junkyard, and into the city proper. Her bad idea was going to be the worst idea the little tortie would have in all her nine lives. She traveled deeper into the city, avoiding dogs and cars as best she could. Then she headed into a closed off alley.

“Oops, okay I’ll just turn around now.” She started to walk towards the alley entrance when she heard sinister sniggering coming from two strange toms. Her eyes darted from one cat to another as the two started to close in on her from the sides ahead of her.

“Well, well, well, looky, looky, looky. A fresh, young kit lost from its mum, yes? Yes, yes, yes. That’s what we have here, me brother.”

Her hackles rose when she heard that voice. She knew Strays didn’t take kindly to strangers in their territories, especially when the strangers were kittens and the Strays were toms. As her hackles rose, her ears and whiskers flattened. Jemima knew she had no chance against the two older cats. The one that spoke was reminiscent of Macavity. He was a bit darker orange and had a black star burst pattern around his right eye. The other was flat faced and cobby. His longer fur was matted with a mixture of mud and twigs, as if he no longer cared about his appearance. They certainly didn’t look like brothers. The only thing they had in common was the look in both their eyes. It was a look of disregard for life.

The kitten’s small body shivered as the two Strays’ evil looking grins widened. Her multicolored tail bristled to twice its diameter as they slowly inched forward. She arched her back and crab-walked sideways to try to get away from them. Jemima then extended her claws and hissed threateningly, hoping against hope that maybe their instincts would make them be scared off.

‘No such luck,’ she thought as she bared her fangs.

“Oh, what’s this, what’s this?” the orangy cat winked his black outlined eye at the larger cat. “So, what do you think, Fadimba? This spunky little bird should have a bit of mercy, yes? No?”

Fadimba cocked his head and he squinted as he thought. “Naw, boss, let’s ge’ ‘er!!”

The little tortoiseshell’s terror grew as she backed into a corner. All her senses were focused on the two cats as she struck out with her claws. In all her fear she didn’t notice the even larger figure that loomed above the two until too late.

“Oy, you mangy cats. Leave ‘er be!!”

A burly, leather clad human stepped into the alley and swung his jacket at the toms. Startled, they hissed at him and ran between his legs to get away. The young cat cowered and her large eyes widened even more as the human approached. Although most of the Jellicles had human companions, humans were notorious for being more dangerous than any other creature in the universe.

“Where’s yer mum, little one? C’mon now,” he said gently as he took his jacket and wrapped her up in it. “I s’pose yer orphaned then, just li’ me. You can come live wi’ me. It’s no’ much, but it’s cozy. Me name’s Rosco, by the way. Wha’ should I name ya, now?” he wondered aloud as he walked out of the alley in down the street.

The kitten relaxed slightly when Rosco picked her up in his jacket instead of grabbing her with his hands. She relaxed even more when he mentioned he was an orphan. She was quite snug and safe and found she liked listening to Rosco’s voice. It soothed her nerves so much, she began to purr.

“Well, I guess that means you like me then,” the human uttered as he opened his front door. “But I can’t name ye until I get ye to ‘ospital.”

And that was that. She was of course found to be female and perfectly healthy, if a wee small for her age. The veterinarian told Rosco about collars, feeding, grooming, exercise, and...

“Make sure she has a bit of gravel.”

“Ta’ very much, Dr. Herriot.”

The newly examined kitten waited expectantly for Rosco to choose a name.

“I’ll name ye... Jemima. I thin' me mum woulda li' tha', bless 'er soul. Now wha’ should I do for a colla’? I won’t be gettin’ ye one of those nancy pants plastic things.”

‘Jemima,’ the tiny cat thought. ‘I like that. Jemima, Jemima, Jemima. Yes, I like that very much. I’ll have to tell the others when I can.’ She mewed and wound around Rosco’s legs. ‘He’s my pet now.’

She saw him smile down at her and he suddenly snapped his fingers. He looked at his wrist and took his leather spiked wrist guard off. It was about the right size. All he had to do was cut it a bit to get just one row of spikes and it would be the perfect collar. She knew it would be great, but she had to show her pet what all good cats know: cats are not dogs. So as soon as she saw the homemade collar in his hand and head towards her, she ran.

Rosco straightened from his kneeling position, puzzled. He shook his head and smiled sweetly.

“C’mon now, sweet’art. I just want to put this little ol’ colla’ on ya.”

The big man strode towards Jemima and just as he started to reach out to her, she shot between his legs and beneath the bed.

“Ah-choo!! Boy, I bet he never cleans under here. Ah-choo! Ah-choo! Ah-choo!” Jemima’s nose wrinkled as the dust flew. She kept her eyes tightly shut and let her ears and whiskers gather what they could. Her ears swiveled in the direction of Rosco’s deep voice.

“C’mon, luv. Come out from under there.”

And this game went on for nearly an hour. Through it all, Jemima found nooks and crannies, a few knickknacks that Rosco lost and a fair bit of coin. The most important thing she found was that her pet was extremely patient.

Not once did he yell at her. His deep voice was coaxing, yet firm. He tried to lure her with food, toys, even a bit of catnip. She chuckled to herself and thought, ‘This guy is absolutely wonderful!’

Then after crawling on his belly to try to reach her under a bureau, Rosco gave up with a hearty laugh.

“’Kay, sweetie, I’ll leave i’ for now.”

He laughed again as he lowered his bulk into an old green arm chair. Jemima peeked from beneath the old wooden piece of furniture, watching to see what he would do next. She was grinning from ear to ear, nose still tingling from the odors and dust she stirred around the tiny flat.

When she saw that he was just sitting with his eyes closed, the tiny kitten crept out stealthily. Her ears were perked and eyes focused on her pet’s most attractive feature... his inviting lap. She crawled quietly forward, inch by inch, all the while keeping a wary eye on Rosco’s relaxed form.

“Humans... always letting their guard down.”

When she was close enough she bunched her back legs, let out her loudest “Meow!” and leapt into her human’s lap.

“Wha’ the bloody...?” the tough guy exclaimed in surprise. “Oh, it’s ye lass. Ye cheeky thing.”

Rosco was delighted when Jemima began to purr and rub her head against his hand. Then she started to paw at the homemade collar that he had put back on his wrist when it was apparent that she would not accept it easily.

The kitten was trying valiantly to undo the clasp on the collar.

“My collar,” she corrected herself. “You can put my collar on me now.”

“Ye certainly ‘ave become quite chatty. Now, wha’ is i’, kitty?” He removed the leather collar from his wrist and she batted at it. “Well, since you’re so interested in i’ now...,” and with that, he placed it around her neck.

As soon as he did that, Jemima licked his hand in approval, jumped down from his lap and thoroughly cleaned herself. She was wondering how long it would be before her pet was fully trained. ‘Not too long, I hope. I have to get back to the Junkyard before the others get too worried.’

It wasn’t long before she taught him to set the telly to the channels she liked, set out food and water when needed, play when she wanted, and most important of all... open the door so she could come and go. It all took about a fortnight.

‘Yes,’ she mused, ‘now I have my third name, an amazing pet, and a brand new collar to call my own. Am I lucky or what?’

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