Insanity Plea

"Take it back!" Pouncival snarled, groping for a hold around his opponent's neck with his teeth. Tumblebrutus reeled in defiance, cuffing Pouncival's golden-brown and black mane. "Never!"

A mere few feet away, two other toms: Plato and Admetus, watched the fight without concern. Plato, his lean silver-brown form stretched fully out in the grass, yawned and dumbly scratched his ear. "Who ya got your 'nip on, Metus?"

Admetus licked a paw and wiped his white face a moment as he considered the options. "Umm....I'll take Pounce."

The two watched calmly as Pouncival and Tumblebrutus went at it again. Their petty brawls were a common thing nowadays. The slightest insult or incident fed on that rush of tom-feeling welled up inside them, and it exploded in a fight. They could go on for hours, Plato knew. On occasions, they had.

Pouncival finally had Tumblebrutus down, pummeling his face with a volley of cuffs. Each pound against the bigger kitten's muzzle or face enunciated the words as he growled them out. "I--am--not--a--rat--lover!"

Tumblebrutus squirmed and struggled to escape the blows, rolling over to finally knock Pouncival off of him and climb to his feet. Exhilarated by the rush of battle, the two snarled and charged each other head-on. But Tumblebrutus did something unexpected.

Using his young but powerful muscles, Tumblebrutus leaped at the last possible second. He flipped over Pouncival's head, landing neatly opposite where he'd been charging only a moment ago. Pouncival was taken by surprise, which was all the time Tumblebrutus needed to knock him down from behind.

"Lemme up!" Pouncival howled. "Lemme up, T.B., or so help me I'll--yeow!"

Tumblebrutus silenced the slightly younger cat with a quick snap to the ear. "C'mon, say it! Who's the Main Mouser? C'mon, fess up!"

Pouncival swore and struggled for all he was worth before finally confessing the other's superiority. Only then did Tumblebrutus let him up, grinning.

"Darn," Admetus mumbled, snapping his claws. It was Plato's turn to look smug. Tumblebrutus settled down contentedly, but Pouncival refused.

"I'm not gonna hang around with a bunch of wimps," he muttered bad-temperedly, smoothing his ruffled fur. "Besides, I'm hungry. I'll catch you guys later." He hung his head and growled as he slunk away to sulk. "Maybe."

"Now there goes a sore loser," Tumblebrutus rolled onto his back, rolling to get at an unreachable itch then to bite at a flea on his tail. "So what'cha guys wanna do now?"

Plato yawned, stretching his paws out to knead the ground with his claws. "I dunno. Now that Pounce mentioned it, I'm kinda hungry myself."

"Jeez," Admetus went on. "There's nothing to do around here anymore."

Tumblebrutus grinned, suddenly coming upon an idea. "Hey, I hear there's a new litter that came in over at the Shop. Think we should pay 'em a visit?"

Admetus chuckled wickedly, rising to his paws. "I'll get there before you."

"Ya comin', Plato?"

"Naw, you two go ahead. I'm gonna find some food."

The two trouble-makers dashed away to their business. Plato remained a moment where he was. He didn't want to get up just yet. The day was too nice. Plato loved the wind. He never really could explain it, but the cool air ruffling his fur gave him a sense of comfort and freedom. The wind was strong today. Strong enough to rip a newspaper from a human's hands and mess up a female human's fancily-styled hair. Strong enough to blow Plato's whiskers flat against his face as he turned into it, swatting lazily at the flying tree seeds and leaves that flew by. It was a warm day for fall, and the semi-strong wind added just the right touch. Plato loved days like these: when the air was crisp and cool from the previous night's rain, but warmed by the bright sun shining through the bare trees. The green carpet of grass covering the park was turned into a patched quilt of red, orange, yellow, and brown as leaves made their annual trip downward. A light coating of dew not yet vanquished by the sun covered the ground, reflecting the sunlight like tiny diamonds. Indeed, it was all too perfect.

It was the dull pang of hunger that drove Plato to his feet. Making a spectacle of a stretch, he finally padded off into the alleys. Maybe he could stir up some old bird that wouldn't be hard to catch, or steal a meaty bone from a little dog, or maybe just snatch a few slices from the butcher shop window that was always open, letting the bloody smell out and drawing all the local dogs rather than stifling the humans inside. Yesterday he'd gotten a whiff of some delicious-smelling hamburger. Maybe there was some left.

But that wasn't what Plato found first.

Not only cats and dogs were drawn to the bloody meat thrown out behind the butcher shop. There was the odd straggling human, cockroaches galore, and rats. Last night's rain had left the thrown out cuts of meat soggy, stinking something horrible, which Plato realized the moment he rounded the corner. Not even a dog who respected himself in the least would go near it. Rats, on the other hand, were a different story.

At least a dozen swarmed over the stinking mess, gorging on the spoiled meat and squabbling among themselves in their high, chattering rat speech. Plato's kitten curiosity not yet out-grown made him remain a moment to watch. He honestly didn't know which was worse: a dog or a rat. Compared to cats like him they were both awful, but compared to each other he wasn't sure. Rats were clever, but filthy with disgusting habits and morals. Dogs were stupid as a rule, and rolled in their own filth. But both types of foe stuffed their faces full when it came to eating, the gluttons. Watching these rats now made it obvious.

One stood out from the rest, Plato noticed. It wasn't eating the meat, but rather stood idly by, swaying back and forth, snapping at any rat that got too close. It was terribly thin, he saw, its ribs sticking out from its filthy brown hide. Its tail hung limp and dragged on the ground, as did its whiskers. It seemed to be really focused on nothing, for its eyes rolled back and forth between items, terribly bloodshot. Its tongue lolled from its mouth in a pant, and white foam appeared at its corners.

What was most disturbing, though, was when the rat set its unfocused eyes on Plato and snarled, stumbling toward him at an uneven lope. Plato took a hesitant step back, but simple predator instincts kept him from running. Cats didn't run from rats. Even when the rodent snarled and bristled a short leap away, Plato stayed. It didn't occur to him that something was horribly wrong. All he saw was a rat asking for it. He snarled back at it, and that one small movement seemed to send the rodent into a rage. It bared its yellowed sharp fangs and attacked. Plato saw nothing to do but fight back.

The rat was surprisingly fierce for its size. It immediately sank it's fangs into Plato's front leg faster than he could follow. The cat roared and stumbled, biting and clawing at the rat latched onto him. By luck more than judgement he slammed it into the alley wall, breaking its hold. The rat stumbled back onto its feet as Plato licked the growing red slice on his leg, and attacked again. The rat dove for his neck, clawing and biting through Plato's fur furiously. The feline bucked and reeling, clawing at the rat in a desperate attempt to get it off. A well-aimed thrust pinned the rat to the ground beneath his paw. Plato glared at its struggling form. Raising his other claw set, he lashed down on it mercilessly.

"That'll teach you t' make fight with a Jellicle," he spat when it was dead. Licking the stinging spot on his leg, he limped away from the battle scene as hungry as he'd came. Though not before spitting on the dead rodent and kicking it into the garbage. It didn't enter his mind that no rodent in its right sense would ever attack a healthy cat. He didn't even think about it much as he went to the junkyard in search of more food that would be considerably easier to get.

The weather steadily turned colder as autumn set in, but a cat of any experience could tell it wouldn't be as nearly cold as autumns before. It was a warm season this year, and unusually dry. Dry weather for any lengthy period brought problems of all sorts, as Munkustrap well knew.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call it a drought," he said. "But we'd better be prepared if things get worse. There's no telling how long a drought could last."

Alonzo obviously wasn't worried. He licked his paws and rubbed at his whiskers, ignoring the concerned tone of the silver tabby. Instead he focused, to Munkustrap's annoyance, on the scuffling toms across the junkyard clearing. "Don't those two ever stop?" he wondered aloud. Munkustrap followed his gaze, landing on Pouncival and Tumblebrutus who were going at it again. Growling under his breath, he yelled out to them and Admetus in his best authority.

"Hey! All that brawling you do gets your fur filthy! Don't make me have to call Jenny for your baths!" His threat was responded to as the two tom-kittens immediately broke away. Without looking at him, he addressed his friend. "You've been teaching that brother of yours how to fight again, haven't you, Lonz?"

"I didn't see the harm in it. Poor kit's small enough, he needs t' know something of how to protect himself."

"It doesn't seem to be doing much good against Tumblebrutus."

"Fighting's in the blood, Strap. He'll learn. Say, is that Plato over there? I've been meanin' to...Heaviside, will ya get a look at that cat!" He glanced worriedly up at Munkustrap. "Catnip?"

Munkustrap's golden eyes were focused intently on the cat who just entered into view: dirty and disheveled. Immediate concern rose. The last thing the tribe needed was a catnip addict. With Plato's eyes dull as they were, he certainly looked like he'd been chewing. The two adults weren't the only ones who noticed. Admetus's ears rose in alarm.

"Plato? Y'look like dog poop. What happened?"

"Nothin'," the taller-than-average tom snapped as he dragged his paws past his friends. "Just a little tired." His speech was low and slurred, indeed as one would when chewing. Tumblebrutus's usual cocky attitude around Pouncival turned to concern, and he set a gentle paw on Plato's shoulder. "Hey, buddy, you should go lay down somewhere. Y'look terrible."

At the touch of Tumblebrutus's paw, Plato jerked violently away and hissed. "Gerroffa me! I'm fine. Mind yer own business!"

"Hold it," Pouncival rose to his paws as Plato turned to leave. "Something's up, Plato. Now what's wrong?" That was a mistake.

Plato whirled and snarled, spreading his claws wide at the three other young toms. They jumped away wisely. "I said nothin'! Can't ya hear? Or are ya two ---- nosy t' keep yer whiskers in yer own ---- business?"

The trio was shocked at his attitude. Plato never cussed, and was usually a pretty laid-back cat. Now he stood glaring at them, head lowered and shoulders hunched, baring his fangs. Admetus said nothing, but he noticed bits of white flecking the silver-brown around Plato's mouth. His tongue lolled and saliva dripped from it.

"Plato," Pouncival extended a wary paw to his friend. "Cat, you look really sick. Let's just get you somewhere cool an' lay down awhile. We'll get my mom or the twins to have a look at ya--"

Plato snarled horribly and smacked Pouncival's paw away. "I don't need anyone's help! Lemme alone!" He put his back to them and dashed away, stumbling over his own paws. Five pairs of eyes watched him leave. Munkustrap rose from his lounging spot on a stack of newspapers and padded toward the three young toms. "What was that?"

Pouncival was lost for words, struck dumb at his friend's strange actions. "I...I...I dunno...."

"Plato's sick," Admetus piped quietly. "Really sick, Strap."

Munkustrap let his eyes follow the mess of tracks Plato left in the dirt, his face hiding whatever was going through his mind. "Did you catch the smell of his breath?"

Tumblebrutus nodded. "Yeah, it was strange. It didn't smell right."

"Like catnip?"

Tumblebrutus began to answer, but let his mouth hang open. He didn't know what catnip smelled like. Pouncival spoke in his place. "It was like...kinda...stinging. Like that smell a car leaves behind, or when you pass a dead animal on the side of the road. Like that."

Munkustrap issued orders hastily. "Get the twins. Immediately."

A mere hour later found the silver-gray tabby in counsel with the twins Coricopat and Tantomile, joined by the three tom kittens. Alonzo has been sent on to keep an eye on Plato with the special warning to steer clear from view.

"He staggers when he walks," Pouncival told the twins, who listened with unemotional attention. "And when he talks it sounds funny. It looks like he hasn't washed or eaten a good bit in days."

"And there's white," Admetus interrupted. "White bubbly stuff from his mouth. He doesn't bother to lick it away, either. He just...drools."

Coricopat and Tantomile looked at each other, their expressionless faces revealing nothing of their worry. They stared at each other, then back to the others. "It must have been the dry season," Coricopat said finally. "Has he any wounds?"

No one said anything for a moment. "I didn't see any..." Pouncival stuttered.

"I did," Tumblebrutus said finally. "At least, I think it was. Something on his leg. It was just a scratch, though."

The twins dropped their heads simultaneously, shutting their eyes and surprising the others when their voices dipped in hopelessness. "He's done for. All we can do is stay away and hope when he dies it is far from the junkyard."

Pouncival's ears perked in alarm. "Die? Huh? What? What d'you mean?"

"Hydrophobia," Tantomile answered flatly. "Rabies."

A deathly cold silence fell over the area. The dreaded Madness disease was known by many names, at least one of which kittens learned very quickly along with the fact it was to be feared more than any living thing. Plato was done for. The very phrase echoing in Pouncival's mind seemed a physical blow to his gut, and he felt the burn of tears rising in his eyes. He blinked them back.

"So that's all we do? Stay away and hope he dies?"

"That's all we can do," Coricopat said. "There is no known cure for the Madness."

Pouncival shook his head. "No, no...there has to be something we can do! We can't just let him die. He's my friend!"

"Hey," Tumblebrutus nudged him. "He's all of our friend. But you heard 'em, Pounce. Rabies! One bite from him and you could have the Madness, too."

Pouncival took a step back, pleading to Munkustrap with his eyes. "No...we gotta do somethin'..."

"There may be something..." Tantomile's voice was barely over a whisper, but was well heard. Munkustrap snapped his head to her, his voice tense. "What?"

Coricopat explained slowly. "Our human is a vet in the city. Lately she has been experimenting with an antidote to rabies, but nothing is certain as to whether or not it works. It's still an experiment."

Pouncival's mind was already made up. He jumped to his feet. "Where?"

"By the river, there is a square tan building with a caged area behind and several white cars out front," Tantomile answered. Pouncival was off before anyone could stop him. Tumblebrutus and Admetus looked first to each other, then to Munkustrap. He nodded, and they followed in hot pursuit.

"Should we help them?" Tantomile voiced quietly to the leader. He nodded again, and without words they both trotted in another direction. Munkustrap himself went about his rounds to spread a warning for rabid animals.

Plato half-dragged half-carried himself through the city alleys. His mind was a jumble of blind rage and confusion. The slightest noise or movement sent him into a rage, wanting to kill anything that was near. His tongue nearly dragged the ground and he slobbered over everything. His vision was hazy and spun as he staggered through the city alleys in a drunken state. A small dog approached the cat and growled. Plato's bloodshot eyes shot at the dog as he attacked and drove it away yelping. Panting, he stumbled on, confused and insane.

Pouncival, Tumblebrutus, and Admetus ran at a steady pace through the city alleys, searching high and low for their mad friend. It wasn't long before they were arguing.

"You're out of yer human-loving mind!"

"Listen to the facts, T.B. We can't get close to Plato without risking gettin' bit. Human are bigger and have more tools. They could get him to the vet's easy."

Admetus held his usual quiet at Pouncival and Tumblebrutus argued. It was probably their mutual concern for Plato that kept them from brawling again. Tumblebrutus halted in his tracks and stared hard at Pouncival. "Are you insane, Pounce? We can't trust humans. They'd shoot Plato the moment they laid eyes on 'em. Humans don't give a rat's tail about cats anymore, especially one with rabies."

Pouncival bared the tips of his fangs. "You gotta better idea? Remember those people that got Metus outta that tree? They cared. One o' them could help, or we could get the vet."

Admetus sat quietly, looking from one to the other as they argued.

"A human could handle a rabid cat with no problem."

"But how d'you know they won't say "Hey, let's save a couple bucks" and put him to Sleep? We can't trust humans on this one, Pounce. This is Plato's life we're talkin' about!"

"If we don't do somethin' Plato's gonna die anyway. We could at least give 'em a fighting chance. Or d'ya want him t' die in the streets? Cold and confused?"

"Of course not, he's my friend, too. I want him t' live."

"Then fer Plato's sake, let's get him to a vet! If we can get 'em there, he'll at least have a chance."

Admetus watched tensely as they stared at each other. He thought that they just may start fighting. He began to say something, but halted.

"Look out, cats!" Alonzo's voice rang out from somewhere. The trio barely had time to gather their wits before Plato bore down on them, snarling horribly. They scattered, rolling to the sides among the trash. Pouncival landed with a grunt beside Tumblebrutus, knocking over a trashcan as they did. The round metal lid rolled across the alley, Plato smacking at it furiously. Alonzo dropped down beside them.

"Hey kits," he said between pants. "Sorry...just got here."

Pouncival kept his eyes trained on Plato from over the turned can. The cat never looked worse. He could barely stand now. His fur was nearly stained brown with dirt and filth. His tongue dangled as white foam and something else was spit up from his gut. The slightest movement or noise sent him into a rage. He would stagger forward at anything and attack it. Pouncival ducked as Plato's sickly yellowed eyes turned in their direction.

"What're we gonna do?" Pouncival whispered fearfully. He looked to his older brother.

"Ya got me," Alonzo shrugged. He covered his head as Plato heard their voices and attacked the can madly, raising a great clatter of claws against metal.

"We can't hide here forever," Tumblebrutus spat, "like a buncha rats." Sudden fear covered his white face. "Where's Admetus?"

Their answer came as a shuddering cry for help as Plato set his sights on the other tom-kitten. As though on cue the three jerked up, glaring over the can to a sight they feared. Admetus was backed against the wall, Plato's slobbering chops terribly close.

"H-H-help!" Admetus's choked cry was barely audible, stifled by the radiated Madness in Plato's eyes. The crazed tom-kitten, already surpassing Admetus in height, now seemed to tower over him as he cringed, fearing those fangs.

"C'mon!" Pouncival whispered harshly, darting out from their hidden spot. He jerked to a halt as someone grabbed the end of his tail.

"Are you crazy?!" his brother snarled. Pouncival didn't have the time to waste, and in response lashed out and scratched Alonzo's paw. Immediately he bolted, a flash of golden-brown and black as he rammed Plato in the side. The Madness had slowed the tom's reflexes, and once off his feet it was near impossible for him to get back up. He rolled and writhed, snarling as he climbed back to his paws only to have his back legs collapse from under him. Admetus ran to Pouncival's side, eyes fixed on the Mad cat. Alonzo and Tumblebrutus bounded to join them.

"One more stunt like that Pounce," Alonzo warned, licking his paw. Pouncival ignored him, falling silent until all their attentions were drawn by the slobbering cat on the ground. They stepped back warily, but since Plato was far too sick to stand there was little need to flee.

"Now what...?" Tumblebrutus mumbled, barely distinguishable over Plato's snarls.

Pouncival only shook his head. He felt completely helpless. He here stood with three strong, healthy toms, gazing at the cat they needed to help, yet unable to get any closer for fear of getting the Madness themselves. All he could do was stand here, watch, as Plato was killed bit by bit from inside...

"Pounce..."

At first Pouncival wasn't sure he heard it, but it was there. Ears snapped forward, he stared hard at Plato. Perhaps there was hope yet.

"Pounce..." the crazed cat gasped over his spits, lifting his eyes to catch his friend's. Pouncival could see, through that haze of Madness and bloodlust, Plato was scared and pleading for help. His brown-furred paw reached out. Pouncival reached for it.

"Don't!" Alonzo barked and snatched Pouncival's arm away half a second before Plato's teeth clipped together exactly where it had been. That one surge of strength seemed to drain the tom, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious. For a moment all was quiet and still. Pouncival jerked his arm away from Alonzo's grip.

"C'mon," he whispered. "Before he wakes up."

The twins Coricopat and Tantomile had reached the vet's office far before the trio had dumped the limp Plato at its door, scratched, and left. They saw Plato being carried in by their human, a red-headed female, and followed him discreetly. They saw Plato strapped down to a cold metal table and his mouth bound with a real muzzle. They watched carefully as their human took a needle of a yellow liquid and injected it into the young tom. The twins looked at each other, nodded satisfactorily, and watched for the result of the anti-rabies medicine.

THE END