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One could easily have mistaken the Rum Tum Tugger for an impatient fellow. It was true that he had a few immutable habits and routine, and, yes, a personality that could border on… Difficult, for lack of a better term. But though his flaws were numerous - as he was the first to admit - being unnecessarily impatient was not one of them.
In fact, it was rather the opposite. In most situations, Rum Tum Tugger was very much willing to wait as long as needs be, if it meant getting his way in the end. It was all a matter of it being worth the effort. Being of particularly headstrong feline extraction, it was no wonder he enjoyed seeing through whatever it was he undertook, whether important or trivial. In his mind, it was not a show of stubbornness : it was simply his way of showing that something was important to him.
The task at hand was a remarkably important one indeed, and it therefore involved a certain level of patience. For a few minutes now, Tugger had been singing (empathically, and at the top of his lungs) a heart wrenching melody of his own composition. Now, had he been amongst Jellicles, he would have certainly added mimics, gesturing, and an appropriate amount of dancing, in order to turn his little number into a full-fledged masterpiece. But he was at home, amidst humans whose awe of him he did not particularly care for… What he wanted was their attention. And singing had proven to be resolutely efficient at achieving just that.
His efforts did not immediately bear fruits ; it was rare when they did so quickly. But he was in a comfortable position, warm and recently fed, sat on his haunches in the home’s hall, howling an aria at the front door. It was a position he could hold for a while without much trouble.
And so, he did. He sang, and sang, and sang some more, adding variations in tempo or key whenever he fancied : he leant into the vibrato, belted the last few notes as he finished another complete run of the piece —
« I swear to our Lord in heaven, one of these days they’ll find this beast skinned. »
At long last ! His patience, rewarded.
There was an approaching, aggressive « swish, swish » of felt slippers against floorboards. Soon enough came into view Ms. Prescott, his human’s carer, whose spotty apron proved that she had just been baking in the kitchen — something rather cinnamony, his nose told him. As she reached the front door and found him there, purring in all his feline glory, her blonde, almost invisible brows knit together into a scornful frown.
« So now you want out ? After I just let you back in ? »
She’d been working for his human for quite a while now, and yet, she still seemed surprised by his demeanor. He really couldn’t get enough of humans’ sense of novelty.
« You’re insufferable, » she sighed, wiping her floured hands on her apron and unlocking the front door. « Now, go on. Shoo. Get. »
Rum Tum Tugger looked out, into the street, where the air was fresh and full of interesting smells, then back up at her. He then proceeded to brush up against her and purr madly, decidedly not moving.
Of course, if patience was a virtue, it was only fair to balance it out with some crookedness.
« Oh, you menace, » she said, and picked him up in her arms, most likely to drop him off onto the sidewalk. « I’ve had enough of you. »
As if he had been terribly hurt, he let out a shrill, harrowing meow that echoed through the house.
« What seems to be the matter now, Joy ? » immediately came his human’s disgruntled voice from the kitchen.
« Nothing, Ma’am, » replied Ms. Prescott, exasperated, while putting him back down. « It’s Sir Tigris, being a nuisance as always. »
« Won’t you stop bothering that cat ! He was perfectly calm a minute ago. »
Ms. Prescott rolled her eyes and closed the door with a resounding « thomp ». She then bent down and shook a finger at Rum Tum Tugger.
« Keep getting me into trouble, won’t you. Big silly beast you are. »
He gave her finger a cheek rub, purring all the while.
« You’re lucky you’re so cute. »
He gave her an approving meow and laid down on his back, just to prove how much cuter he could be. It was no secret that Rum Tum Tugger knew his way around dames : just as he expected, she treaded her fingers through his fur and pet him gently.
« Joy, dear, » came his human’s voice from the kitchen, « could you pass me some more greens ? »
« Sure thing, Mrs. Lisiewicz. »
Ms. Prescott crossed the corridor into the large, sunny kitchen, with Rum Tum Tugger hot on her heels. Sitting at the far end of the table was the aforementioned Mrs. Madelina Lisiewicz, regal as always in her hot pink tailleur. She was a very, terribly, extremely old lady (Tugger did not know how old exactly, but she had seen many a season fly by, that was for sure, perhaps even as many as Old Deuteronomy himself), and she could not walk very well anymore ; yet, she always sat with her back ramrod straight, and with as dignified an allure a woman could attain. No hair ever strayed out of her white, highly-perched bun. She smelled like powder and peonies on a rainy day. Rum Tum Tugger loved her greatly.
« It would be much more efficient to install a cat door at this point, ma’am, » said Ms. Prescott as she filled Madelina’s plate with some more greens. « Sir Tigris keeps begging me to let him out, and then back in again, all day long. It’s impossible to get any work done. »
Her interlocutor raised a perfectly comma-shaped eyebrow.
« A cat — you mean that I should ruin my poor front door, and for what ? So I can turn my home into one of those old ladies’ shacks, one that any stray could just waltz into whenever they feel like it ? You can’t possibly be serious. I think a young woman such as yourself should be able to manage opening a door every once in a while. »
You tell her, Madelina.
« Well, I’m only saying, » grumbled Joy Prescott, who was not the type of woman to simply be walked upon. « This here cat is way too spoiled, if you’ll ask me. It’d do him good to be more independent. »
More what now ?
« Spoiled ! How is Sir Tigris more spoiled than any other cat ? That simply is preposterous. » Mrs. Lisiewicz took a sip of barley wine — her preferred accompaniment for lunches.
Joy Prescott shrugged, returning to the kitchen’s work plan and finishing up the laying of cinnamon biscuits upon a baking tray.
« I just think most cats in most households don’t get a bedroom all of their own. That's all. »
« Well, that’s just common sense, » immediately replied Mrs. Lisiewicz. « I would hate to wake up to find my bed covered in fur. Besides, I have my sleep apnea machine on all night long. How on earth could the poor dear sleep if he were in my room ? »
Simply couldn’t, Madelina darling, you’re absolutely right.
« Fine, » Joy said, putting the cinnamon biscuits into the oven. « Fine. I suppose you’re not wrong… You know, Mrs. Lisiewicz, if you keep picking at this here chicken, I’m going to think you don’t like my cooking. I finished eating ages ago and you’re still at it. »
« Oh, don’t take it like that, dear. In my old age, even the most tender of meats feels tougher than a car tire… Do tell, today’s the 22nd, yes ? Did my son give any news ? »
« He did. He rang this morning, saying that he was just then boarding his train. He should be arriving around 3 this afternoon. »
Mrs. Lisiewicz let out a long sigh.
« Right when I am supposed to be visiting Theresa and playing cards… This boy really does pick his timing, doesn’t he. Just the same as the day he was born. You know, it happened when I was out kayaking in Sweden with a few friends. And precisely as we were going over this steep waterfall — »
Noticing that he was no longer the center of attention, Rum Tum Tugger meowed at his human, not in his usual, raspy and loud way, but a series of tiny little « mee » that he assorted with a stroke of his head against her elbow. Madelina Lisiewicz clicked her tongue, seemingly irritated at being interrupted so rudely, but she picked a piece of chicken with her fork and gave it to him anyway.
« Little charmer, you, » she grumbled, and kept on telling her story. Tugger, of course, could not have been bothered to listen.
What a productive start to his day, he thought, feasting on the chicken meat. A victory on all fronts !…
Well, almost all fronts. He still had to figure out how to leave the scene before Madelina’s son showed up. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the fellow : in fact, he had never met him at all, so, any opinion he could have had of him was null and void. However, he had met Madelina’s other son, Tobias, who had brought his daughter and son along last time he had come over. And, Everlasting, those kids simply did not leave him one moment’s peace ! Apparently unaware that the Rum Tum Tugger did not care for a cuddle, they had attempted to hug him, brush his fur (read : tear it out by way of human comb), put little plastic-beaded necklaces on him, not to mention carry (!!!) him places he didn’t want to be. Needless to say, even if he didn’t know that new son from Eve, he certainly would be better off avoiding him altogether.
Now, of course, there were a few places he could have gone to spend a nice little afternoon. One of them was the Junkyard, an obvious pick : he was sure to find good company there, even if the weather getting colder meant most Jellicles with humans and homes would spend the nights inside, more often than not. There was, however, one place he knew would have good surprises in store for him, and would break him out of his routine a bit.
He had recently heard that he needed to be more independent, after all.
With a few graceful leaps, Rum Tum Tugger reached the window and began pawing at it, meowing out his song with renewed energy to be let out. Joy Prescott looked up at him, her eyes a fiery red, and for a split second, she was certain that she could have seen the cat smile.
-
Mr. Moretti’s shop was renowned in town for being a magical place, full of wonders and trinkets the type of which most had never seen. More than an ordinary antique shop, of which there were a few in the village, Moretti’s Honest Heirlooms was a treasure trove where the curious and intrigued could wander for hours, digging through piles of strange metal apparatuses, extravagant varnished woods and various creatures or things dipped into formol. The shop itself was rather small, and incredibly crowded with big and small items of every kind, and visitors had to be very careful with how they snaked through the high asymmetrical rows — backpacks were to be carried in hands, to avoid knocking down anything of value.
Mr. Atanasio Moretti reigned king in his little shop. Not only was he the proprietor as well as the general director, he also accounted, advised, managed sells and stood at the till, every day of the week until nightfall, when he locked up and walked, cane in hand, to his little home near the edge of town. A bachelor of 47, Mr. Moretti had no family of his own in the village, but enjoyed a wide array of friends and acquaintances all over the world that he still wrote to regularly enough. He was very well-known around town — and even in the neighboring burgs ! — not only for his wonderful boutique, but as well for his previous career as a magician and illusionist, which the numerous, colorful posters hung on every wall of the shop could attest.
Despite being a quite famous figure in his own right, Mr. Moretti’s life could sometimes be a bit lonely, and his routine as a shop owner allowed him very little free time these days. He supposed that such was the life of a young retiree : spending less time out in the world and being free to enjoy one's hobbies.
Thankfully, he could always count on his best friend of all — which was currently enjoying the sleep of his life near the tiny electric heater of the westmost row.
« Excuse me ? »
Interrupted in his fond gazing, Mr. Moretti tilted up his head and finally took notice of the client, standing in front of him on the other side of the till. He’d seen him enter a few minutes ago and wander through the rows with a terribly bewildered look on his face. He didn’t seem to be part of his usual clientele : in his fourties, with a dapper little suit and sleek auburn hair, he seemed quite lost in the atmosphere of the shop.
« How may I be of assistance, Sir ? » inquired Mr. Moretti with a wide smile, very much aware that new clients were to be treated with the utmost elegance (as did old clients, and everyone in between).
« Um, » said the man, absentmindedly twirling his moustache. « I’m looking for a present for my mother. Do you have anything that could… »
« Certainly, certainly ! Let me think about it just for a second… Is your mother interested in taxidermy ? »
« I… Doubt that she is, to tell you the truth. »
« Better to err on the safe side, then. How about History ? Ancient Roman History ! I have this set of whiskey glasses right over here… If you fill them up and look at the bottom of them, you’ll find those marvelous little paintings of antique thermal baths ! »
The man did indeed look inside of the glasses, and blushed to the tip of his ears.
« Ah, perhaps something a little less… risqué. She’s an older lady, you see. »
« Of course, of course. Hmm… We’ll find something, don’t you worry. How about — »
Mr. Moretti kept on talking as though nothing had happened, but the gentleman’s attention was suddenly caught by a rather loud, unexpected noise that echoed through the shop. The vibrato of a motor seemed to come from the western corner of the shop. Caught unaware, clutching his collar, the client blinked and looked around for the source of the noise.
« What on earth was that ? »
Mr. Moretti’s eyebrows rose, until he realized what the client meant.
« Oh, that ! » he chuckled amicably. « That’d be my dear Pierrot here. He can be a bit loud, but truth be told, I barely even notice him anymore. »
And having said that, Mr. Moretti pointed to something the client hadn’t noticed before : a small, black and white tuxedo cat, which lounged cozily near a buzzing electric heater. The tom seemed very comfortable indeed, and it took the gentleman a short moment to realize that the loud motor noise was coming from him. The cat was purring like a madman !
« How can an animal so small be making such a ruckus ?… »
« Ah, that’s simple, really. Pierrot is no ordinary cat. Like everything here, he’s full of magic. He simply showed up at my door one day — I am now certain that it was fate — and we’ve been inseparable ever since ! »
The gentleman stared at the cat, then back at Mr. Moretti’s joyful face. A little smile slowly came to his lips.
« I see. Well, it’s a wonderful shop you have here, magical cat and all. »
Upon being mentioned, although in passing, Mr. Mistoffelees’ ear reflexively twitched. He was used to clients’ conversations, and had proved to be able to sleep through even the most disquieting of occurrences ; but whenever someone brought up his name, he felt it was only polite to acknowledge it.
« Psst ! Hey ! Mr. Mistoffelees ! »
In most situations, at least.
« Mr. Mistoffeleeeeeees ! »
Loathing to leave his most treasured spot near the heater, Mr. Mistoffelees decided that, before making any reckless choice, he would first do a long stretch, maybe even claw at the floor a little bit. It would do good for this curious cat to wait.
The call was soon replaced by the soft « thud » of pawing at the window ; and just as expected, once Mr. Mistoffelees looked up, he saw none other than the Rum Tum Tugger, sitting pretty on the windowsill, his pawpads pressed against the glass. Mr. Mistoffelees, having stretched and clawed his fill, jumped up on a table covered in frames of shiny beetles and strange old-timey toys, and from there, reached the window.
With the cold months fast approaching, it seemed that Tugger’s fur was even more dense than usual. He looked positively wooly.
« What are you doing here ? » asked Mr. Mistoffelees. « Is there something going on at the Junkyard ? »
Rum Tum Tugger had only come by the shop once or twice in the past, and usually, it had been a group meeting with others from the tribe.
The other tom scoffed and shook off some water condensation from his fur.
« Am I only allowed to come by in cases of emergency ? »
« I suppose not. If you’re looking to buy, though, it’s not me you should talk to, but Mr. Moretti. I’m only his assistant, you see. »
« Hah. I’m a little short on coins at the moment. I think I’ll just be browsing, thank you. Can I come in ? »
« Well, it depends. You know how to open this ? »
He looked up at the sash window currently separating them. Tugger blinked.
« Part of me was hoping you knew a trick for windows, I’ll admit. »
« I’m not wasting my magic on window-opening. »
« Come on ! Aren’t I worth a little bit of magic ? »
« You know I love an occasion to show off, but I usually play for bigger audiences. »
Mr. Mistoffelees jumped down from the windowsill, prompting Rum Tum Tugger to mrow out his discontentment.
« Mean ! You wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave me out there in the cold, would you ? »
« Calm down, silly, » said Mr. Mistoffelees, proceeding to get off the table. « There’s a cat door in the back. Go around the house, I’ll meet you outside and show you. »
Tugger’s eyes lit up at that and he quickly jumped down, with a hurry that made Mistoffelees snort out a laugh.
After a little bit of a trot around the building, the pair met right outside Moretti’s Honest Heirlooms ; Rum Tum Tugger noticed Mr. Mistoffelees’ head poking out from the cat door, calling out to him with a chirp. He immediately came to join him, bumping foreheads with the tom and purring madly all the while.
« You wouldn’t be able to tell we saw each other just three days ago, » said Mr. Mistoffelees, though he did gently headbutt Tugger right back.
« Well, you’re gonna show me around your place or what ? » said the titular Curious Cat, huffing a little. « I’d hate to think I walked all this way in the cold and wet just to stay outside. »
« I mean, I didn’t exactly invite you. »
Tugger tilted his head to the side.
« Mhm ? Your point ? »
« … Pfft. Right. Well, do come in, then. »
The cat door did funny things to Tugger’s fur. Though he was an imposing size, he was a rather lean cat under all this fluff ; and the door, having been set for the smaller Mistoffelees, pulled all of the Maine Coon’s hair backwards like a gust of wind, making him appear terribly wee until he ‘popped’ right into the house, finally free from this devilish, tiny door.
« Well, this is it, » said Mr. Mistoffelees upon entry into the shop. « I could’ve sworn you’d been here before, though. Why come visit today ? »
« I was bored, » replied Tugger, swatting at the sleeve of a velvet-robed mannequin. « And desperate to escape family functions. »
« Ah, lovely. So this is no courtesy call. Here I was, thinking it was me you wanted to see. »
Tugger turned around, a smug expression about him.
« It might not be courtesy… But who knows, there might be… ‘courting’ involved. »
« Eugh. Hairball, hairball. »
« Come on ! » Tugger huffed, bumping the tuxedo cat’s side. « It was funny. I’m very funny. »
« You are, » admitted Mistoffelees. « Though not necessarily in the way you think. »
All silence and velvet-paw, he strolled back to the electric heater, listening to Mr. Moretti at the other side of the shop — still in deep conversation with the mustached client. Rum Tum Tugger jumped up on a table, inspecting some of the items curiously.
« Sorry if I don’t show you around much, » said Mistoffelees, yawning as he plopped down in his favorite spot. « It’s been a long night gavotting around. »
« Oh, that’s no trouble, » replied Tugger. « Those strange little things are no mystery at all to me. »
Mistoffelees grinned, stretching out and pawing at the air.
« Ah, so you’re an expert in human technology. »
« Precisely. I know everything one needs to know about it. »
Tugger circled a particularly venerable looking coffee grinder, which was adorned with a bear-shaped handle.
« This thingamabob, for instance, which I most definitely know how to use and what it’s for. »
« Most definitely. »
« Most definitely. Or else I wouldn’t be an expert in human technology. »
« That makes so much sense. »
Tugger tilted up his chin, in such a proud way it prompted Mistoffelees to laugh — which only made Tugger even prouder.
The little bell at the door rang, announcing the client’s leave. Mistoffelee’s ears perked up.
« What a sweet gentleman, » came Mr. Moretti’s approaching voice.
« Get down, » whispered Mistoffelees to Tugger. « Hide under the table ! »
« Uh ? »
« Quick ! »
After a hesitant beat, Rum Tum Tugger did jump down (with all the grace and poise a Maine Coon could muster) and hid behind one of the tables’ large wooden legs. Mr. Moretti arrived precisely then, carrying a little box filled with various items of tableware. He bent down slowly (his knees had given him trouble as of late) to give Mistoffelees’ head a pet.
« Wasn’t he nice ? He bought the set of cutlery with the engraved sunset moths. I hope his mother likes it. Not to toot my own horn, but I do believe I wrapped it most wonderfully. »
Mr. Mistoffelees mewed softly, and his human smiled.
« Well, yes, he was very lovely. But he’s only visiting, he said. Maybe he’ll drop by again before leaving ? That’d be nice. »
He scratched behind Mr. Mistoffelees’ ear and rose, box under his arm.
« Ah, no point in standing around and waiting, huh ? There’s much work to be done ! Onward ! »
And onward he went, whistling a cheery tune, through the crowded rows of his shop.
Once the way was safe, Tugger came out from under the table unnoticed, his face positively glowing with joy.
« So we’re lovers in hiding ! » he said, absolutely delighted. « Oh, the secrecy, the drama ! You know, that is terribly romantic. »
Mistoffelees’ tail swished at his face.
« He’s very nice, » the tuxedo tom said, « but me letting other cats in might have made him upset. I know him to be rather private. »
« And you didn’t want him to throw me out right away. Is that it ? »
« Well, since you’re here, you might as well stay a little while and get warm. »
« Ohhhhh, Mr. Mistoffelees. »
« Hush. »
But all the hushing in the world could not have held back the waves of purring coming from Rum Tum Tugger.
« You come here uninvited, » Mistoffelees said, leaning into Tugger’s grooming at his cheek. « And I have to risk my trusting relationship with my human for you… You didn’t even bring me any treats. »
« I can go back outside. Try and catch a bird for you. »
« You smell like flowery perfume. They’d feel you coming a mile away. »
« What ! Really ? Is it that strong ? »
He proceeded to sniff himself thoroughly. Mistoffelees looked at him, slightly (dare he say it) endeared.
« You should tell your human to slow down with the fragrances. I mean, I like it, but that must make sneaking around more difficult. »
Tugger stopped his sniffing endeavors and turned back to Mistoffelees.
« You like it ? You do ? »
« Don’t make a thing out of it, please. »
« Oh, I will. I will make multiple things out of it. »
« Everlasting… Just lie down and stop talking. I want to sleep. »
Tugger gleefully obliged, spreading his long body in front of the heater and letting his fur warm through. Mr. Mistoffelees repositioned himself to be close to him — only to get warm faster, he said, through the cuddling and the intertwining tails. Dozing in the heat, Mistoffelees began absentmindedly grooming, first himself then Tugger.
« Bleh, your fur even tastes like perfume, » complained the tom mid-lick.
Rum Tum Tugger’s response was to knead at his back and chirp out :
« Such is the life of a truly glamorous cat. »
-
A short while later, they were both pulled from a deep catnap by Mr. Moretti, who had just now showed his last client out and was about to lock shop for the day.
« Now, Pierrot, what’s… Well, goodness me ! »
Both cats rose from their slumber and yawned. Chuckling delightedly, Mr. Moretti bent down to take a closer look at Rum Tum Tugger.
« Wowie. Aren’t you a big fellow ! »
Tugger turned on his back, shimmying on the floor — very pleased with the attention.
« Oh, he noticed my winter weight. This is a lovely human you’ve got there, Mistoffelees. »
« Isn’t he ? » said Mistoffelees, licking behind Tugger’s ear. « I raised him well. »
« You’ve got a collar on, I see, » said Mr. Moretti. « Let’s check where you’re from so I can get you back home… »
Saying this, he picked up Rum Tum Tugger right from where he lay, holding him with his front paws up — in what was, ultimately, a very embarrassing way to be held.
« Hey ! » meowed Tugger in discontentment. « I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced ! »
« Such a pretty cat, » said Mr. Moretti, pulling Tugger into his arms in a more comfortable position. « And you have such nice fur. Your family must be worried sick about you ! »
Rum Tum Tugger, forgetting to keep protesting, « hmph-ed » in pride.
« Alright, he called me pretty, he earned the right to touch me. Not for long, though. »
« Sometimes, I think you might be a little too easy, » said Mistoffelees.
« Elmwood Lane… » continued Mr. Moretti, inspecting the medal on Tugger’s collar. « Well, that’s not too far from here. I can get you back to your people on the way home. What do you say, Pierrot ? »
« Does he think I don’t know the way back ? » remarked Tugger. « Do I really look that incompetent ? »
« Human’s perception of things can be a bit limited, sometimes. Don’t take it too personally. »
Very soon, all three of them were off : Tugger, cozily nestled in Mr. Moretti’s arms, and Mr. Mistoffelees escorting them on foot. It was only a short walk to Elmwood Lane, but the wintry breeze was rather crisp.
« I have to admit, not having to walk on the cold ground is quite comfortable, » said Rum Tum Tugger, nuzzling into Moretti’s big coat.
Mr. Mistoffelees rolled his eyes.
« I’m sure it is, you big baby. »
« 23, 25… » counted Mr. Moretti. « Ah, 27. There we are. »
« I suppose this is goodbye for now, » sighed the Maine Coon as they reached the front door. « I’ll see you at the Junkyard ? »
« I should be there tomorrow night, » replied Mr. Mistoffelees. « If you can wait that long. »
« Heh, I’m not — » began Tugger, woefully interrupted by the door’s sudden opening, after only a couple of knocks from Mr. Moretti.
And the aforementioned Mr. Moretti was taken aback in more than one way as he noticed who exactly it was that stood behind te door : the client from earlier that day, with the auburn hair and the small moustache.
The man blinked, his eyes wide.
« Oh ! Mr. Moretti ?… »
The magician’s face lit up in immediate recognition.
« Mr. ‘sunset moths’ ! What a surprise ! »
« Sir Tigris ! »
Mrs. Lisiewicz did not hesitate to push her son out of the way to get to her cat, immediately snatching him from Mr. Moretti’s arms and into her own.
« Oh, I’d never seen you gone so long ! I was horribly worried. You little runaway, you ! »
« I don’t think I’ve ever been carried that much in one day, » sighed Tugger, now smushed against his human’s chest. « It’s getting a little old. »
Mistoffelees licked his front paw and washed behind his ear.
« Truly the most rebellious cat of the tribe. »
« Thank you so much, » said Cyril Lisiewicz (for that was his name), shaking Mr. Moretti’s hand, « for getting my mother’s cat back ! She’s been worried sick about him all day… »
« I swear, » Tugger interrupted, « I usually don’t stay inside all day. They’re trying to besmirch my reputation. »
« Oh, it’s no trouble at all, » replied Mr. Moretti, a little flustered. « I was on my way home anyhow… »
« Would you like to come in ? We ought to offer you a little drink, as thanks for bringing Sir Tigris all the way here. »
« Yes ! » said Tugger.
« Golly, » said Mistoffelees.
Mr. Moretti shook his head, the tip of his ears red.
« Oh, I wouldn’t want to be trouble… »
« Not at all ! » intervened Mrs. Lisiewicz, « I would fail every hostess commandment if I let you get away without a little drink. Now, let’s get inside ; all the cold is getting in ! »
Cyril and Mr. Moretti exchanged a look and small, embarrassed smiles ; but in the end, everyone obeyed Mrs. Lisiewicz’s command and got inside, where it was cozy and warm.
Rum Tum Tugger was finally allowed to go free and stretched out his legs while Mistoffelees sniffed around, eager to explore this new environment.
The humans, chatting merrily, all went into the living room, while the cats remained in the hall for a little while longer.
« Seems you won’t be rid of me yet, » said Tugger, back paw shaking as he made himself comfortable on the carpet.
Mistoffelees rubbed his head against the tom’s, his eyes bright as a starry sky.
« I suppose I’ll live. »