An Untimely Inconvenience

By Rachel Dib

Merit flicked his tail in frustration. His best servant—Pharaoh something or other—was dead. He knew this because when he’d arrived for his morning scratch, the human had just lain there, eyes open but unseeing. The body had also been cold. Not good for curling up next to.

Still, to be sure, Merit had bitten Pharaoh’s fingers and even sung a few rounds of “Everything Is Mine”—a personal favorite that, to Merit’s delight, had always irritated Pharaoh. Nothing had worked. Lazy in life, the human was now even lazier in death.

And Merit still needed his morning scratch.

He’d tried getting one of the other servants to quell his itch. While none of them would handle the job as well as Pharaoh, Merit was desperate. At present, though, they were all busy crooning over Pharaoh’s body. Odd, since it couldn’t do anything but lie there.

Pharaoh’s transparent form wasn’t even sulking nearby. Merit had hoped it’d linger so he could complain to it. After all, Pharaoh’s untimely departure had been what placed him in this uncomfortable predicament. He’d searched all over for the ghost, hoping it merely hid somewhere. But no. Pharaoh was gone.

Merit lifted his head, ears pricked. The slap of human feet against sun-dried brick echoed down the palace corridor. His hopes briefly lifted—someone to scratch his infernal itch, perhaps? Then, he heard the conversation and skittered behind a statue.

“Are you sure he wanted all the cats to go with him into the afterlife?”

“That’s what he decreed.”

Merit ducked lower as two men walked into view. One smelled of mint, the other of Feseekh. Merit didn’t like mint; however, the Feseekh’s fermented fish odor made his stomach grumble. He hadn’t had breakfast.

“There aren’t many left to catch,” the minty one said. “Just Abrax and Merit.”

“Well, Merit shouldn’t be hard to find.” The Feseekh-y servant snorted. “He’s been moping around all morning.”

Merit bristled. Moping! He had not been moping. He’d been giving precise instructions on how to satiate his discomfort. Oh, and expressing how stupid everyone was for fussing over a dead body. But he’d most definitely not been moping.

“He must miss the Pharaoh.” The minty man nodded. “Fortunately for him, they will soon be spending eternity together.”

Merit crept out as the men disappeared around the corner. He had no idea what they meant by “spending eternity together.” Pharoah was dead. What did they expect Merit to do? Stare at the body all day? Sorry, but he had better ways of occupying his time—like sunning himself next to that new gargantuan lion statue outside. He liked that statue. If only it hadn’t been given a human face.

And had those men said all the cats were to join Pharoah? Well, that was a hard no. Merit didn’t like the other cats. They always stole his favorite lounging spots and ate his food. As an avid believer in personal space, close quarters cohabitation with the rest of the palace’s feline population didn’t suit him.

Adding “don’t get caught” to his mental to-do list, Merit slunk down the hall in the opposite direction of the men. He was halfway to the kitchens when Abrax’s enraged battle cries halted Merit in his tracks. So, the cat-catchers were hiding in the kitchens. Very clever—and inconvenient. Now, he’d need to find breakfast elsewhere.

Merit started to turn, then paused. What had those two meant when they’d said he’d spend eternity with Pharaoh? The question nagged at him. Pharaoh was dead. Wasn’t he? Or did the humans know something Merit didn’t?

Abrax’s yowls ceased, only to be replaced by a human’s louder cry.

If Merit followed the cat-catchers, perhaps he’d at least assuage his curiosity on the matter. It wouldn’t be difficult. He’d only need to keep to the shadows. Humans never searched those. They believed things lurked in them—which, technically, they did. But it was usually something fun, like a mouse, not whatever humans feared.

Decision made, Merit crept down a hallway containing a painting of jackal-headed humans holding spears—a wall Merit greatly disapproved of—until he spied Abrax and the cat-catchers. Abrax had finally lost his battle and now dangled by the scruff of his neck. Merit wasn’t surprised. Abrax had never been good at brawling. Still, Merit shivered upon witnessing the other cat in such a compromising position.

Merit followed the cat-catchers until they entered a room emanating a strange smell, then held back. No use rushing in and being spotted. Plus, Merit detected the priests’ aromatic scent in the room. Merit didn’t like priests. They refused to conform to the rules like other servants. He’d need to be on his guard.

Glancing around, Merit noticed a cat-sized hole in the wall a few feet to the right of the door. It was a little high, but if he leapt just right…

Landing skillfully, Merit congratulated himself on a successful jump and deftly shimmied through the tunnel. To his delight, the rocky texture scratched his itch. When the tunnel opened onto a storage loft overlooking the priests’ room, Merit congratulated himself again.

He spotted Pharaoh first—or most of him. Parts of him had been placed in jars for some reason. But what stunned Merit most was the other cats. They were all laid out on tables, glassy-eyed and unmoving.

Merit tilted his head. He knew he should be horrified but just couldn’t muster the feeling. After all, competition over space, food, and attention was no longer an issue—granted he could find them somewhere else. Obviously, the palace was no longer an option. If being with Pharaoh meant joining him in death, well, Merit would happily pass. Abrax and the others could keep that honor for themselves. He had far better things to do.

And he would start by sunning himself next to the giant lion statue. Though, someone really needed to fix its face. Perhaps knock its nose off? Yes, that would do.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel Dib is a stay-at-home mom of three small children. After marrying a soldier, she left her home state of South Carolina to live in random places across the United States. Her works of short fiction have been published by On the Premises Magazine, Havok Publishing, and Ye Olde Dragon Books. She has also had short stories published by Toasted Cheese Literary Journal under the name R.J. Snowberger.

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