PUSS (not a chance) IN (hell would she ever wear) BOOTS

“Abigail, get in here and put your boots on,” Cathy yelled from the balcony door. Clearly frustrated, her disappointment evident by the scowl on her face, she was quickly running out of patience with her feline cohort.

Abigail had already agreed to embark on a journey with her human friend, an adventure which would, if planned properly, provide a veritable happy ever-after ending for both.

Cathy would find her prince and her castle. Abigail would have a room with a king-sized bed with fuzzy blankets and throw pillows, multiple cat trees, more toys than she could ever imagine, and most importantly, an endless supply of treats.

They had the plan worked out. With Cathy’s wisdom and Abigail’s kitten charm, they would have the power to trick anyone into giving them whatever they wanted. And if that didn’t work, they had the magical fairy boots; the original footwear worn by the iconic Puss In Boots himself, who some say, was a fairy in disguise.

They had one problem however, and it was a big one. Abigail adamantly refused to wear the boots. No amount of persuasion, promises or offers of treats was going to change her mind. She squealed and squirmed and hissed and snarled whenever Cathy attempted to slip Puss’s boots onto her furry little feet.

She even went so far as to insist that Cathy wear them. Obviously, since they were designed for a cat, they certainly wouldn’t fit a human.

“Put them in your pocket,” Abigail suggested.

“They must be placed on the body, Abigail. Putting them in my pocket won’t work,” Cathy informed her feline friend, whose response was the furthest thing from friendly.

“So, stick them up your…”

“Hey! Watch it,” Cathy yelled, the tone of her voice warning Abigail that she shouldn’t continue that thought.

Cathy reminded Abigail that she had already agreed with her plan, and questioned why she was being so difficult and uncooperative.

“No, I agreed to go with you and use my magic powers of persuasion. I never agreed to wear those stupid boots,” Abigail protested.

“But the fairy boots are what gives you your powers,” Cathy replied.

She attempted to explain, once again, that these magical boots would help them on their journey. She had been informed so by her 24th cousin twice-removed who lived in France and insisted these were Puss’s original boots, and that they had been bequeathed to her in her 23rd cousin twice-removed’s will. All she had to do was pay the equivalent of $5000 Canadian dollars to the French lawyer and the boots would be hers.

“That’s a load of crap,” her feline friend replied. “I can’t believe you fell for that, oh great wise one.”

“What?” Cathy snapped.

“I said, I’ve always had magic powers and I don’t need no dumb fairytale boots,” Abigail replied before asking for a treat.

“No, I gave you treats a little while ago,” an increasingly frustrated but suddenly amused Cathy responded. “What are these magic powers you speak of? I’ve never seen them.”

Abigail refused to answer, instead insisting that she would show Cathy if she just looked into her eyes.

“Why?” questioned Cathy as she peered into Abigail shimmering green eyes.

When Abigail requested more treats, Cathy verbally admonished her with yet another refusal, while simultaneously filling the bowl, unaware that she was even doing so.

They left for their adventure the very next day.

Well, I guess I can’t really call it an adventure. Unlike 17th century France, where la chat botte and his master may have had to travel over hill and vale, encountering all sorts of trouble and possibly even having to partake in a sword fight, this was 21st century Canada. All Cathy and Abigail had to do was hop on a bus and travel to King’s Park, where the rich folk ruled the province.

When they arrived at their destination, they were stopped by a burly security guard who insisted they state their business before receiving permission to enter. Cathy had already thought of a brilliant response of a gift of sacred land to the king so he could build yet another castle (his favourite thing), but before she got a chance to speak, Abigail blurted:

“Take me to your leader!”

The burly security guard let out a condescending laugh and began to demand that the strange woman with the tiny boots on her thumbs and the talking cat leave King’s Park immediately.

“This is a hallowed place where Kings and Queens have sat,” he boasted. “This house, where Premiers and honorable members have conducted the business of our fine province for over 150 years, will not tolerate these shenanigans…”

“Dude, I’m about to hack up a furball,” Abigail interrupted his rant with a blech, blech, as she leaned over his shoes and attempted to vomit.

The burly guard jumped backwards and reached his hand to push the retching cat away from him. When he did so, she caught his eye. He couldn’t look away.

Shadows fell upon the palace gates as the towering guard bent his massive frame closer to the tiny grey and white tabby. She immediately stopped retching and massaged her furry butt against his legs. Still locked eye-to-eye, the two continued to stare at each other for what seemed an eternity.

In reality, it was probably just a few seconds, after which the guard straightened himself up and led Cathy and Abigail through the gates, personally assuring their unfettered access to the government palace and all that lay within.

“How the heck did you do that?” Cathy asked, astounded by the scene she had just witnessed.

“With my magic powers,” Abigail nonchalantly informed her human cohort, as she sashayed her furry butt along the corruption-stenched corridors of power.

“But how?” Cathy demanded.

“You don’t need to know!” Abigail curtly replied. “Besides, If I tell you, I’ll have to kill…”

She was cut off by her human friend who seemingly had reach reached her own conclusion.

“It’s the boots!” she squealed. “I bet it’s Puss’s boots. I knew they were magic,”

Abigail rolled her eyes so hard that she could have sworn she saw her own brain, which she preferred at that moment to the smug look on her human’s face. She decided it was best to just play along.

“Yes, yes that it,” the cat replied. “It’s definitely the boots.”

The two friends spent the next little while exploring the inner sanctums of King’s Park. They roamed freely through the member’s private offices and the press galleries, all the meeting rooms, and even the legislative chamber. They took turns sitting in the King’s (Premier) seat and the throne of the Speaker.

Every human they met just smiled and nodded at them. It was as if a woman with boots on her thumbs and a sashaying grey and white cat were as common in this place as the King himself. Truth be told, they were.

Cathy noticed that it was getting near time for the legislature to open. She encouraged Abigail to hurry along so they could be assured a good seat in the public gallery, and a chance to meet the King himself.

“Are you sure he’s even going to be here?” Abigail wondered.

“Yes. Don’t worry,” replied Cathy. “Whenever the house is in session, the King comes here to take a nap.”

As they continued along the corridor toward the legislature, an ominous shadow fell over them. The floor began to vibrate, the walls shook, and a booming voice echoed treacherously through the hallowed hallways.

“HAHAHAHAHA,” He laughed. The King himself was here. Strutting down the corridor like he owned the place, laughing with his ministers while dismissing his servants like the pests they were.

An awesome specimen of blond and bulk, exuding an arrogance that made the very walls shiver. Some say he was a jovial man, even compared his laugh to Santa Claus, but most knew that he was much more likely to eat the children than fill their stockings.

“Dafuq you want with this guy?” Abigail was shocked that this man, this beast waddling toward them, was the reason her human dragged her along on this journey. It couldn’t be possible that Cathy wanted this man for her prince.

She was right of course. Cathy never went to King’s Park that day looking for a Prince. She was already happy with what she had. She just wanted to have a conversation with the King, a conversation that she hoped would change his thinking on his policies.

She hoped that with the help of Abigail and her magic thumb-boots, that the King would come to realize that his policies were harmful to the people of their province and benefited only his rich friends. And if he so happened to gift her a castle of her own, even better.

As the King drew closer to the thumb-booted woman and her feline cohort, the smile fell from his face and was replaced with a look of cowardly anger.

“What are these two vagrants doing in my palace?” he bellowed, then instructed his guards to arrest Cathy and Abigail.

Cathy attempted to inform the King that she and Abigail were not vagrants and meant him no harm. They just wanted to talk. The King would not listen, instead insisting that they be removed from the premises immediately and brought straight to jail.

Abigail, sensing that even though Cathy had stated they meant the King no harm, the King certainly did wish to harm them, scratched the guard who was holding her and screamed for Cathy to run.

The pair escaped the clutches of the guards and ran for their lives. Through the hallways and out the door they bolted, onto the lawn of King’s Park, where Cathy tripped on a rock and fell. As she sat there, massaging her swelling ankle, she wondered why her magic boots didn’t work on the king.

“There’s no magic in the stupid boots!” Abigail screamed. “It was me. The magic is in my eyes.”

“So why didn’t you stop them?” Cathy questioned, not understanding why, if the magic came from Abigail, the King still tried to have them arrested.

“Because magic only works on people who have a heart,” Abigail sadly informed her human Mom, encouraging her to pull herself up off the lawn before the guards found them.”

“Look into my eyes. I'll help give you strength.”

As Cathy, with help from her feline friend, was pulling herself up, she caught the terrifying sight of two large wolfdogs running at them from across the lawn, the guards urging them on. Before she even had a chance to scream, the wolves were on them. The last thing Cathy saw, before passing out, was one of the wolves snatch Abigail up in its powerful jaws, snapping her neck.

Three days later…

Cathy sat alone in her apartment reliving the terrifying scene, while icing her sprained ankle. She couldn’t believe how stupid she had been. Abigail was right. How could she have fallen for that “magic boots” crap? How could she have thought it was possible that she could ever change the mind of a politician? And worst of all, how could she have put her friend in such danger?

She couldn’t get the vision out of her head. That horrible vision of Abigail in the jaws of the wolf, the sound of its teeth crushing her bones and the scream from her feline friend before the beast snapped her neck. It was a nightmare that would stay with Cathy forever.

But it wasn’t a nightmare. It was reality, a reality that she was sure would destroy her sanity and break her heart. She couldn’t get it out of her mind and was sure she never would.

As Cathy sat, wallowing in grief and self-flagellation, she heard a scratch at the balcony door and a familiar meow. She jumped from her seat, ignoring the sprained ankle, and ran to open the door.

“Abigail, you’re alive!” Cathy screamed joyously, then scooped her kitty up for a hug. “And you smell like a wet dog.”

“Well, I just climbed out of the belly of the wolf…literally,” Abigail smugly answered.

“But how? But how?” Cathy couldn’t understand, for she had watched in terror as her feline friend was murdered by the wolf.

Abigail replied “Let me first say that I’m glad you learned your lesson about fairy tales. Most are not real. So next time you wanna fall for some stupid email from your 24th cousin twice-removed (who doesn’t exist, bye the way), think about it! And if you can’t figure it out on your own, ask me.

“Secondly, there are some fairy tales that are true. Cats having nine lives is one of them. Now get me some treats ‘cause you just cost me one of mine.”