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“Well, of course I do. Kittens are fine when they’re very small but they are very selfish and do nothing but take all of your milk and time and attention and then go to some other home. I wish you had done that too, instead of spoiling my work and angering my crew. Kibble is good to me and takes care of me and loves me. All you do is cause trouble.”

“The boy was good to me and took care of me and loved me, and your girl took me away from him and brought me here,” I said. “And if that’s the way you feel, I won’t even let you know when I leave. I’ll just be gone and then you’ll be sorry.”

Kibble let loose of her work long enough to reach over and stroke my mother’s beautiful soft fur. My mother didn’t love me anymore! But she didn’t understand how much I needed to find my boy. I could have done without my tail more easily because he had been half of what was me. Now he was gone and I was left with nothing but a lot of heavy boots waiting to step on me, faces I had to crane my neck to see, and small dark places made of metal. No trees, no chickens, no cows, no brothers or sisters, no reading under his blankets at night, just a mother who hated me.

I didn’t mean to do it. I meant to be haughty and disdainful, to show these people how little their opinions and missions counted to me, that they did not, as they thought, own me. But I was suddenly so sad that a mew escaped my mouth like a mouse might slip through my paws.

Kibble opened the carrier and took me out. I hadn’t the strength to fight her, nor, as she cuddled me and petted me and made soothing sounds, the will.

“There there,” she murmured. “Look, I’ve made you a pretty new harness, suitable for the enormous cat you are becoming. This will keep you tethered to Chessie or me and out of trouble.” And she slipped the web she’d woven over my head and across my back, holding me with one hand and fastening it with the other.

Mother was not fooled by Kibble’s sugarcoated explanation of the new harness. “Now Kibble will walk you like a dog,” she said, her eyes still slitted. “You will hate it but you’ve brought it on yourself.”

So naturally I decided I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of thinking they’d bested me. I pretended to admire the hateful thing and batted—charmingly, if I do say so myself—at the lengthy bit that attached my harness to Kibble’s hand.

Kibble petted my back but told Mother, “I fear he will not like this once we begin our patrol.”

Hah! I’d show both of them. Besides, my other plan hadn’t worked and I needed to think of something else, some other way to escape my captivity and return to my boy. Although I did not understand exactly what the captain meant when he threatened to have me “fixed,” I assumed it involved breaking me in some way first, and that it would not help me return to Sherwood.

So I trotted meekly beside Kibble and behind Mother. Sometimes I made it a point to grab for the tall fluffy plume of Mother’s magnificent tail, making her trot more quickly ahead so that I ran to catch up and leaped toward the target just before she whisked it out of the way. When was my tail going to be that pretty? I wondered. How fast did tails change? When I turned to see if it was growing properly yet, I couldn’t quite see it. It kept getting away from me when I tried to grab it to examine it more closely. For some reason, Kibble and the crew found this amusing and laughed at my efforts. Finally I sat down to wash it and saw that although it was a little longer and perhaps a bit fluffier than the last time I’d looked, it was only a third as long as Mother’s. Maybe they got longer every time you washed them? I began an extensive licking campaign, but was interrupted when Mother and Kibble insisted on continuing the patrol and Kibble unhitched my tether from Mother and picked me up to carry me to the next station.

I very cleverly did not struggle or yowl, scratch or bite, but purred into her ear.

A few days of this and crew members were remarking on what a changed kitten I was. I began hearing words like “adorable,” “cunning,” and “cute.