I Hope You Like Fish

When I first heard the scratching sound, I ignored it. I figured it was probably just some lizard bumping into the solar window on its search for tarantulas to eat. I kept my focus on the tomatoes, carefully separating the seeds from the flesh. Less rot for the seeds, more tomato for me.

But the scratching continued.

Maybe it was a flock of tumbleweeds swarming past the dome in hot, harsh winds. The tumbleweeds were getting bigger and more numerous all the time.

No, this scratching was too methodical to be blamed on the wind.

The seeds could wait a moment.

When I rose from the workbench and started looking around, an unfamiliar sound made me jump: "MROW!"

I froze. It sounded again. "Mroww. Meooow." Loud, but… small?

I peered between the dense foliage of the hydroponic farm to look through the solar windows. Sienna dirt stretched out to the vague purple horizon, which in turn faded into the bright azure sky.

Scratch, scratch; "Mow?"

I kept looking around the perimeter of the farm, following the strange sounds, until I spotted the creature. It made eye contact with me in a friendly way, then placed its paws on the glass and made its strange sound again.

"This way," I said. I had no reason to believe it understood me. But, I had no reason to believe it didn't understand me. I walked towards the door, and on the opposite side of the glass, it followed.

I marveled at the creature's smooth, light step. It was a black little thing with a white underside, and its hind paws were white from toe to knee. It had a long tail held high, its tip curving; and triangular ears on top of its head. Its abdomen seemed to be especially large, given its otherwise bony frame. I hoped it wasn't carrying some sort of parasite.

I had no idea when the door had last been opened. Probably before Mom and the baby brother-or-sister she said I'd have died. I couldn't remember Dad bothering with the door since then. I definitely hadn't touched it.

"Mrow! Mow!" The little creature was insistent now, scratching at the door. I wiggled the dusty locks loose. I gave the door a healthy shove, but it wouldn't move. Maybe years of sandstorms had sealed it shut.

"Meow? Meow?"

I shoved the door again and it just barely cracked open. Dry, hot air immediately attacked me. The creature slipped in. I pulled the door closed and locked it again, gasping as the air around me normalized.

The creature rubbed against my legs. It made a pleasant, low rumbling noise. I crouched down, and it shoved its face against my hands. I reveled in the feel of its soft fur.

"You're pretty," I told it. Then I froze. Something about applying that word to that animal sounded very familiar. "Pretty… ditty… jittery?" That wasn't right.

It continued rumbling and pushing itself against me. Now, its tail coiled on the floor behind it.

"What do you eat, Little Friend?" I asked it. "I hope you like fish. That's the easiest thing to share."

It just kept rumbling pleasantly. I stood up, and it gave me an expectant look.

"Come on, I'll show you the aquaculture tanks." It followed me downstairs into the subterranean living quarters, and further down into The Pond.

"This was Mom's pride and joy," I told Little Friend. "Besides me, anyway. All these tanks are connected together, and the pumps and stuff all run on solar energy." I picked up a net. "The plants grow and feed the little fish. The little fish feed the big fish. The big fish feed us. And all the waste and stuff get composted or feed the bottomfeeders."

I netted a tilapia. Little Friend started vocalizing excitedly again. "Mrow! MROW!" It was so insistent that I laughed.

When had I last laughed?

"MEOWWWW!"

"Yes yes, you may have some dinner," I laughed. I drove my knife quickly through the fish's brain, killing it as cleanly as Mom had taught me. "The bottomfeeders keep the tanks clean and all the fish healthy." I gutted the tilapia over the tank, just like Dad used to, allowing the parts I didn't want to return to the self-sustaining system.

I made my way back up to the living quarters. Little Friend slipped between my legs on the stairs, beat me to the kitchen, turned to me, and vocalized again.

I placed the fish on a plate, washed my hands, and picked up the plate.

"I still have tomatoes to seed, Little Friend. Come with me."

We returned to the ground floor dome. I placed Little Friend's plate on the floor beside the table and watched for a moment as it ate. Yes, those little pointy teeth were well suited for fish.

One fish, two fish. Pet the pretty… city?

"I don't know what you are, Little Friend," I told it, "But you're very familiar."

I finished my seeding. I salted and ate the tomato, and cleaned up. Little Friend finished its dinner and searched the room. Its tail slowly swished back and forth.

"You want water," I realized. "I could go for some, too."

Back down to the living quarters. I grabbed a glass for myself and a small bowl for Little Friend. But the moment I turned on the faucet, Little Friend leapt up on the counter and stepped to the edge of the sink. It tilted its head and lapped gratefully at the running water.

"That was quite a jump," I told it. It didn't respond. "City. Ditty. I know what you are. I've seen pictures of animals like you before."

"Meow?"

"I just can't remember."

It rumbled and pressed its face at my hands again.

I got myself a glass of water, and decided to fill Little Friend's bowl, just in case.

Realization slapped me in the face: kitty. "'Pet the pretty kitty,'" I said. "That's why I thought, 'One fish, two fish, red and blue fish.'"

"Meow?"

The living quarters had a circular floor plan, with the kitchen/sitting room leading to the bedrooms. Since Dad's death, I barely ever stepped foot into any bedroom but my own. With my Little Friend here, I just had to go to the nursery.

Little Friend followed me again.

How could a room that was barely ever touched become so dusty? I knew the mechanics of shedding skin, I just didn't realize an abandoned room would accumulate so much.

I pulled a cardboard box down from a bookshelf and examined its contents. There were several by Dr Seuss, including the fish book and two about a cat with a hat.

Little Friend made a chirrup and leapt into the crib.

"You're a cat," I told it. "Just like this one. Don't eat any cake in the bathtub." I laughed again.

Little Friend kneaded the crib bedding with its front paws, rumbling again. Purring.

There were cats in other children's books, too, including the one that gave the instruction, "Pet the pretty kitty." And there were other creatures I had never seen before. A coyote-like one with a long snout, floppy ears, and slobbering tongue, labeled "Dog." A tall one with spindly legs and brown spots, "Deer." I recognized "Bear" from a toy Dad had given me.

Something else bubbled up out of my memory. A song I sang with Mom, when I was very little. She had explained that before the land got too hot and the oceans turned to poison, people used to have outdoor farms with all sorts of animals. Each animal made its own distinct call.

"With a meow, meow, here," I tentatively sang, "And a meow, meow there." Little Friend was lying down now, but it watched me sing. "Here a meow. There a meow. Everywhere, a meow, meow."

"Mrow!" it agreed.

I belted out the ending. "Old MacDonald had a farm. E! I! E! I! O!"

My cheeks were getting sore.

I was smiling so much that my cheeks were getting sore.

Little Friend rolled onto its side, giving me a full view of its distended belly and six nipples. She purred contentedly.

"I haven't thought about any of this stuff in years," I told her. "Not since I graduated from these books to Mom and Dad's library. I can tell you all about companion planting, well maintenance, and troubleshooting the aquaculture tank. I know how to forage all sorts of wild plants and mushrooms that stopped growing outside around here." I leaned into the crib and stroked Little Friend's soft head. "But the only thing I know about cats is to pet the pretty kitty."

She settled into the bedding and closed her eyes.

"All right, then," I told her. "Welcome to Albany, Little Friend. That's what Mom and Dad called this place. They said there used to be more people around here, but." I shrugged. Little Friend seemed to be sleeping, anyway.

I still felt the pull of old memories. I crossed over to Mom and Dad's room. Pictures of Mom's parents and her mother's parents smiled down from a high shelf. The chest of neatly folded blankets and the wardrobe of Dad's clothes remained exactly as they had been before his death. I opened Mom's jewelry box and ran my fingers over her old treasures, stopping on the golden heart-shaped locket.

I knew what was inside. I opened it anyway. A single infant face looked at me. "This was you," Mom had explained, some fifteen years ago. "And this side will be for your baby brother-or-sister."

I dropped the locket. Mom's belly had been distended. She was supposed to give birth to my baby brother-or-sister but something went wrong.

Little Friend's belly was distended.

I dashed back to the nursery and found Little Friend awake in the crib, purring loudly and convulsing slightly. One kitten lay beside her. Another emerged before my eyes. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. I watched as another three tiny creatures entered the world.

I wasn't aware of stepping closer. I simply found myself kneeling beside the crib, staring in awe as Little Friend bathed her newborns with her pink tongue. They wiggled, their tiny noses leading their way to their mother's milk.

Little Friend purred and gave me a satisfied look.

"Hi, little friends," I told her babies. "Welcome to Albany. I hope you like fish."