All this noise is completely unreasonable. 

I don’t know why anyone needs to make a fuss this time of day; it’s almost twenty-two minutes after eleven in the morning. In four more minutes, the sun will hit the windowsill with the slightly squashed brown velvet pillow, and I won’t be able to sleep with all this howling. Completely unreasonable.

I wash my ears, but it still doesn’t block out the noise. Very well, I will go and talk to the silly fool. Sometimes the new ones do this.

I swish through the grass and slip through a cracked door on the other side of the castle. They don’t always leave doors open for me…well, I do admit that this isn’t actually my own castle, so I can’t order anyone about. What can I say? My own palace only has fifty-three napping places. Sometimes a cat gets bored.

I trot down the stairs to the basement, my tail and ears both twitching. Such nonsense! I prepare my usual lecture, but I stop dead when I see who is making all the racket.

“Conall mac Dubhshláine!” I scold. “You know better than this!”

Conall lifts his shaggy black head. He’s staggering on his feet, panting with exhaustion.

“Have you been at it all night?” I leap gracefully to a shelf where I can glare down at the dog. “You’ll wear yourself to a frazzle, and then what? You know he won’t let you go.”

“He’s taken…” Conall has to stop and cough.

“Drink some water,” I order, and he does.

Now then, I have to explain—it’s not that animals really talk, not like yours truly, nor humans for that matter. After Trencoss is done with them, they’re real animals. I can just understand what they would say if they could still say it, because I’m special that way. 

So it isn’t like Conall’s words actually irritate his voice-box, but after howling for gods-knows-how-many-hours straight, anyone can use a drink.

There’s small windows set in the top of the cellar, or dungeon or whatever. I observe the slant of the sun, twitching my tail as Conall drinks and drinks. 

“You could still go outside,” I suggest, when he’s done. “The patrol will change at noon, and you could go out with the next one. Get some sun on your fur.”

Conall flops onto the straw and growls. 

I know it’s for Trencoss, not meant for me. Not that I’m afraid of a wolf-hound, who is less than fourteen times my body weight and much slower, unless of course we were running on flat ground. Still, it’s a good time to be sitting up nice and high.

“You know how this goes,” I remind him. “He caught you fair and square. Now that he did his magic-y thing-y, you’re going to be a dog whether you like it or not. There’s no point in howling and bursting everyone else’s ears, because he’s not going to let you go. Just go out on patrol when it’s your turn, and keep the bad animals away and the good animals safe, and he’ll give you plenty of yummy food and leave you alone.”

Conall growls again.

“Fine,” I admit. “He probably didn’t catch you fair. Trencoss always cheats. But either way, you’re stuck again.”

“It’s not again,” Conall says. “I never made it out of this shape. Six years, Bob! Six…blasted…years.”

His tone makes my whiskers shiver. Conall mac Dubhshláine must have had a very low voice and a very educated accent when he was a man. Most of the dogs don’t sound like that, even in my head.

“So why howl now?” I ask. “Since you know better.”

“It’s not for me. He took away my lady! My lovely! My—awooo!”

“Stop stop stop!” 

But he doesn’t, so I arch my back and caterwaul right back at him. Two jays hop to the window and screech at us too, and it’s a lovely racket—now that no one is trying to sleep, I mean.

“What’s going on in here? Knock it off!”

I immediately start licking my belly, trying to get this one burr that is stuck in there. If I look casual enough, whoever the newcomer is won’t notice that I was involved at all. Conall drops his head and slurps some more water. The jays, however, keep screeching. No one can tell jays what to do—unless you eat them.

It’s another one of the big black wolfhounds. I don’t know what’s going on; usually Trencoss has all kinds of animals. He always likes having a few wolfhounds around—companion of the kings, yada yada—but it seems like I’ve been seeing a lot of wolfhounds. Black ones. And well organized. How curious!

“You!” The new wolfhound glares at Conall. “Do I need to send the Commander in to talk with you? You’re going to get us all in trouble.”

See, he didn’t notice me at all! Ha!

The new wolfhound—and I suddenly get an impression from him. Kappa, he is called Kappa. I blink at him, because it’s an unusual sort of name, but vivid in my head. 

It’s so interesting that I almost don’t notice that he’s talking to me. Lecturing me, as though I need to do anything I’m told. I yawn to demonstrate that I don’t care about the silly dogs’ safety and happiness and what-all.

Although I’m kind of intrigued. This is more fun than napping at home.

Conall waits until the bossy dog is done with his bossy talk.

“What about my lady?” he asks. “Have you seen her?”

“I told you, she’s fine,” Kappa says, but he doesn’t sound as confident any more.

“She’s still a human?” Conall asks.

“Yes. Told you, one of our squads has to stay with her at all times. She’s safe with six of us.” Kappa opens his mouth in a wolfhound laugh.

“We need to protect her from Sorcerer Trencoss,” Conall insists.

Kappa half-laughs again, baring his teeth. “None of us can do that. If he wants to magic her, he will.”

“If he hasn’t done it by now, he probably won’t.” I have no idea if that’s true, but I don’t want Conall howling any more. “Besides, you can always get a new one. Plenty of females out there!”

“I don’t want a new one,” Conall growls. “I want to keep Ailbe safe.”

Kappa deflates suddenly, his shoulders softening and his tail sagging. 

“Is your beloved here too?” Conall asks. Not to me. He’s ignoring me.

Kappa drops into the straw near Conall, heaving a sigh. “No. Miles and miles away.”

“She might be safer,” Conall says.

“Or she might not,” Kappa answers. “I swore to protect her, but look at me now.”

I switch my tail. I don’t like being ignored. “What’s so special about this Ailbe, anyways?” 

Conall looks up at me. He considers, then an ear cocks. 

“Nothing.” He yawns, showing all his teeth. “You wouldn’t like her.”

Well, fine then. I’ll go back home. 

“She is a very fine cook,” Conall adds.

My tail twitching does not mean I’m curious. Not curious at all.

“She likes to play,” Conall adds. “She has a beautiful laugh.”

“I don’t care about ladies laughing,” I tell him, very lofty. After all, I am sitting on a shelf, and my tail is barely twitching at all.

Kappa sighs. “I remember the days of my lady taking care of me. Laughing together. Eating together.”

Very well—I’ll just ask one teeny tiny question. “What did she cook for you?”

Conall draws breath but he is so big and slow, so me talking just fills up all that blank space.

“Did she ever make fish? Does she heat it on a hot stone so it sizzles? How about cheese—does she slice cheese into little strips and put it out on a plate for you to enjoy one bit at a time, and is the plate pretty? What about sausages?”

“My Ailbe is very good at cooking fish and sausages. And Bob…” Conall crosses his front paws. “She even makes me smoked eel. If you found out where she is right now, she might make you smoked eel as well.”

“Now wait just a moment!” I lift my dainty nose. “I am not doing any favors for anyone! Especially not a brute like you, who just went and ruined my nap.”

Both dogs rustle into the straw. They are so big and calm and…patient. Ugh.

I yawn, just to show everyone how little I care about any of them. “But since the sun is past my favorite pillow and my head is aching so much that I couldn’t sleep a wink, you might as well…”

I yawn. Twitch my tail. Yawn.

“You might as well tell me about this Ailbe of yours. Since she’s worth making such a racket about.”

The Little White Cat and the Dog Who Wasn't

Why am I receiving this email?

You're signed up for the Sheltie Gazette, the newsletter for Christy Matheson, author. This week is a special bonus companion story for my new release. It takes place just before the main story begins, from the perspective of the animals. This story can be enjoyed either before or after reading the complete fairy tale retelling, and has been designed to have no important spoilers, although it does have little details that Ailbe—the human narrator of the book—does not know.

It is also designed to be fun and cat-like. Enjoy!