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The first thing I think about after my eyes open for the first time after the big sleep is food. A nice juicy mouse or even a little fish would be nice right about now. My tummy rumbles. I think I’ve been napping for a long while- a really long while. I’m not in the Sunny Land with the Big River anymore, in the courtyard I used to patrol for mice and spiders and those slimy, slithery long fellers with no legs. I didn’t have any dreams, which is unusual, and for some reason, when I wake up I have some brittle strips of linen around my paws and wrapped looped across my chest and belly. The last thing I remember is feeling very, very tired and going to sleep in my favourite shady spot beneath a statue of Osiris, and the humans making eye water about it. I nibble the bandages away and look around, but I’m trapped in a funny see through box, so I meow a little, pacing around and around like I used to when I wanted the humans to let me into the house. Clearly this trick still works, because a human comes along- he’s wearing that tall golden crown that means he’s very very important and all the other humans have to bow to him and give him shiny things, and I purr at the sight of him. He’s not familiar, but I can tell he’s one of my people, which means he’s going to spoil me rotten. Maybe I can get him to give me some fish. Being a cat is pretty amazing- humans will just give you things, and when you get angry and scratch their hands they always apologise first.
Next to him is another human. This one looks like a right dour rotter, with his big dopy face and daft navy uniform, and I smirk at him, in as much as a cat can. He looks like he will be fun to mess with. Some humans are easy to irritate, and watching them bumble around trying to catch you, red faced and cursing, is always a delight. I resolve to cause a little mischief down the line.
The human in the stupid outfit opens my box, and the one in the crown lifts me out, slow and gentle. His jewel encrusted paws are soft and warm, and when he holds me to his chest I immediately butt him with my forehead, purring as loud as I can. He smells of incense and wood and some kind of lotus perfume. I snuggle up, and suddenly I feel very sleepy again, listening to the sound of his heart.
“Her name is Nedjem,” announces the important human, and my long, gold studded ears perk up. He’s right!
“How do you know?” It’s Stupid Outfit. I have the urge to hiss at him, but I’m worried they will send me out to catch mice, and I’m really not in the mood.
“I just do,” he says conspiratorially. He pets my head, and I lean into his touch. “I have had cats all my life, at least three or four at a time. And besides,” he laughs, “it says on that plaque.”
I’m not sure what a plaque is, or why it talks, but looking around I don’t see anything that needs to be murdered, so I settle back down into the human’s arms. He gives me a gentle scratch under the chin, before handing me over to Stupid Outfit. I go limp for a moment, giving him the illusion of safety, before sinking my teeth into his wrist, wriggling free, and bounding away, claws clacking on the polished floor. It’s nice to run again. Near the end, before the long sleep, I felt very tired indeed, but now I feel like a kitten again. Behind me, I can hear Stupid Outfit yammering on and on in his gormless, grating voice, complaining about something, probably the fact that I’ve just bitten him hard enough to draw blood. My human- yes, he’s mine now- is comforting him. He’s just a little too sweet with it, not at all stern or commanding like an important human should be (you know, ‘son of Horus,’ and all that) and I wonder if the two of them are the kind of humans that are always pressing their snouts together and holding paws. I was hoping my human would have better taste. Stupid Outfit? Really? Eugh. I know a dud when I see one.
***
Tiny humans. Tiny humans everywhere.
They scatter before my wrath. I deftly dodge their little pointy sticks and darts and all their other pitiful projectiles. By Bastet, this is cathartic! Payback for all the times I was conned out of fish. I fling a tiny human with a preposterous crest of red feathers on his metal hat against the side of the diorama with a single swipe of my tail, before returning to my carnage. I’ve already flattened a few of their pointy roofed buildings, simply by flopping down on top of them and taking a quick power nap while they try in vain to think of a plan.
One of their leaders- a man with a shiny metal thing on his chest, like the shell of a beetle, and a strange hat, like that of his little friend, who is currently laying in a heap against a wall- throws himself between me and another quivering battalion of juicy morsels. He stretches out his shaking hand, slowly resting it on my nose, no doubt under the mistaken belief that he is some sort of animal whisperer. To make what comes next all the sweeter, I let him have his moment, before head-butting him with all my might. He goes flying into his blonde chum, who squeaks something out in that shrill accent of his, which sounds suspiciously like the sound a mouse makes. The two of them clutch at each other in terror, patting each other down frantically, looking for injuries, once the one with the silver carapace manages to righten himself. They’re just a bit too close to each other, too. Are all the humans in this place bumping snouts and holding paws?
The humans barely put up a fight, and my new game gets boring all too fast. It turns out they’re not edible- I give one an experimental nip, and find that not only are their shells extremely hard, but their bodies themselves are not at all soft and fluffy, like mice. I yawn; a few of the tiny humans scatter, yelling something about toxic fish fumes. There’s a big oval building to one side of the diorama, and, looking inside, I notice a nice Nedjem sized divot. It looks comfortable enough, so I curl up in there, giving the tiny humans a warning hiss, before falling asleep.
I am rudely awoken by Stupid Outfit, prying me from my spot and hefting me into the air. I lash out at his face, but he holds me at arms length, so all I can do is attack his paws, though he seems to be protecting them with an old rag, putting something, however flimsy, between my deadly claws and his fragile fingers. Maybe he’s not as dumb as he seems, but nevertheless, I still don't like him.
“Jed? Octavius? You two alright down there?” I try to bite him again, but to no avail. He looks me dead in the eye, which would be mildly intimidating were he quite literally anybody else. “Behave yourself, kitty cat, you hear me? Just cause Ahk worships you as a goddess doesn’t mean I do. If you don't sharpen up your act you and I are going to have a problem.”
In response, I summon all of my strength, lunge forward, and bite his nose.
***
I like my human’s house. His bed is a box, and if there's one thing I love its boxes. Maybe I was wrong about him having bad taste. I like sitting on his lap when he presses the clickey buttons to control the glowing window box on the reception desk, I like his chin scratches, but most of all, I like his fish. It comes in a little round container, with a lid he peels back to reveal untold wonders. Sometimes, when he’s gone, I mess with the Anubis Guards, climbing up their legs and onto their shoulders as they slap each other, trying in vain to throw me off. Dogs are so easy to rile up.
I’ve been here a dozen nights, maybe more- I’m a cat, you can’t expect me to be good at counting. He’s gotten me a big, fluffy pink bed, and though that's all well and good, I like the box it came in more, and I mostly sleep there now, though he carries me back to my own spot in the Egyptian gallery every morning. Even Stupid Outfit is growing on me, just a little bit. He hasn’t reached the appropriate level of worshipful adoration yet, but he seems to be getting there. If I don’t get caviar within the next three nights, though I’m going to leave a dead spider in his lunchbox.