The sun warmed the inside windowsill, bathing the shelf of heaven in a contemplative shower.  It was a cat’s paradise.  The silver tabby enjoyed it thoroughly.  

Peering out this window, he could see the patch of grass that was his owner’s urban lawn. Just beyond it was a quaint but useless fence and beyond that the street.  He couldn’t see the junkyard from here, but perhaps it was just as well.  Separate names sometimes meant different lives.  He was allowed a moment to himself every now and then.  He couldn’t be Munkustrap all the time.

In here he was James, the adopted pet of a young working woman.  She’d spotted him puttering about one day and gone about the human ritual of the dish of cream, tentative approach and finally giving him her own first name.  In practicality it was probably unwise for a cat of his stature to become a pet, shut away from the clan he was supposed to be protecting, but he was in control.  She’d be getting home soon, then she’d let him out and he’d return to the street.  Little did she know that the half an hour it took for her to settle in equaled the total amount of time he’d spent in her flat all day.  He broke concentration to check the clock on the wall.  She was late today.  No worries, he’d bask some more.  At least it wasn’t cold in here.

A stray mutt wandered up the street.  It stopped at his fence and watched him with sharp interest, waiting for him to move.  

The cat noted the dog coolly and lowered his head to make it obvious.  The dog gave out a bark, summoning three or four echoing barks from flats on either side of the street.  James mused.  Dogs were so predictable.

The mutt sniffed the air, then shot the unseen dogs an annoyed glance and barked again, its brown eyes fixing James with more than just the easily-amused dog interest.  The tabby cocked his head and eased up from his place on the windowsill.  The dog barked again and directed attention toward the front door.  James frowned at his beckoning, could it be this stray knew who he was.  

It was worth investigating.  He bounded down from the sunbath and headed for the cellar where the woman had thoughtfully installed a cat door.  He slipped down the stairs and into a gap in the ductwork, finding his favorite of many paths to the outside.  

He emerged in the heather beneath his basking window and paused.  The dog on the other side of the fencing smelled him there, the laser stare finding him immediately.  The two creatures stared at each other for a full minute.  Somewhere up the street the unwelcome barks persisted.

The dog spoke, his voice a low gruff.  All dogs shared a certain gravelly note that ranged in severity depending on the region.  At the first word, James relaxed.  

This dog was a Jellicle.  

“I have word of your prodigal.”  The dog said.  “You are Munkustrap?”

“Yes.”  He replied, electing to remain hidden beneath the leaves.  All the mutt could see were his two golden eyes.  

“The Jellicle dogs have been alerted.  The Alley speaks of Macavity.”

“Macavity should know better than to impede in dog territory.”  Munkustrap noted.  “What is this news?”

“I cannot explain.”  He replied.  “You will hear it from the Alpha.”

Munkustrap backed deeper into the heather.  “I will hear it now.”

“Please, don’t be difficult.”  The dog said, his globular eyes narrowing.  “Follow.”

“Forgive me...”  He said, unmoving.  “I have no intention of following you into your Alley and becoming a toy for a pack of stray dogs.  You are being civil, yes, but understand the level of danger I face if I do as you say.”

“I understand.”  The dog said, his voice holding no compassion.  “Follow.”  It headed off down the street, pausing at the corner to glance backward, waiting for the feline to join him.

Munkustrap felt a sixth-sensory chill ice his back.  

He wished his senses were keener, he knew cats with instincts of near psychic proportions.  He would have appreciated a little certainty in this moment, and clarity as to whether or not the chill was at the idea of following this dog to his doom or the Jellicle drive to investigate Macavity’s actions.  

It was his job to protect his tribe.  Macavity, while an outcast, still played a part in the wellbeing of his family.  With a fresh shiver, he padded along under the brush.  He reached the corner of the lot just as the city bus pulled away.  A young woman with straight brown hair headed up the front steps into the flat behind him.  

“James!  Here kitty kitty!”

He closed his eyes.  He hoped he wouldn’t have to run away from this woman, she was always very respectable and tender.  He didn’t want her to worry, but duty came first.  He had three names, after all, and she only owned one of them.