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Well, of course I despised being caged on the ocean for days and days. I wouldn’t be a worthy cat of any size, let alone a big, regal one, if I’d endured that nonsense without a fuss. But once I made it off the boat, I could see that I’d fallen into some luck. My Susan was a mere darling from moment one—I could see I’d have her letting me eat out of her hand in no time at all. No telling what might have happened if I’d met that aunt of hers first, which was supposedly the initial purpose of my journey. A house pet to silly old Elizabeth, me? Not likely! No, everything came out just right for all involved, even poor Davey, who seemed impossible to please for just the longest time.
I would like to clarify, among other things, that the song “I Can’t Give You Anything but Love, Baby” does not have a calming effect on me. I really feel nothing about it one way or another except that, when the humans warble it, they always calm their tails a bit. I’ve trained them quite well: they sing, I sit and purr like a placated cub, and they settle down for the moment. We have an understanding, even if I understand it much better than they.
It is also not the case that Susan schemed to keep Davey in her vicinity so that she could court him. I mean, she did all those clever things to make it impossible for him to leave, of course, but it wasn’t her idea. I was there for her every time, nudging her to buffalo him into coming up to Connecticut with us, send his clothes out for cleaning, and so on. Actually, I was trying to figure out how to make him stay longer than it would take to drop us off when that poultry truck happened by, furnishing a perfect opportunity for both time-consuming hijinks and a snack.
Now, you can imagine how aggravating it was when George stole Davey’s filthy bone. That actually did throw me for a bit. That and the rude, dangerous intrusion of the other leopard were the X factors that almost threw everything off. Susan and Davey were supposed to be focused entirely on each other except when they were paying attention to me. But I couldn’t stay mad at George for long, you know—he’s such a dear little scamp. We had the greatest fun running off so that the humans would be compelled to stay together long enough to find us. He wasn’t nearly bright enough to understand my matchmaking plan, but he played along like any good dog should. But my fellow leopard… well, you just can’t talk to some people. I did try, but he spat out the most foul vituperations on me and all of humanity until I had to leave him be for my own safety and dignity. Also, he nearly ate poor George, who never harmed anything larger than a flea and came rushing and shouting to my “defense.” I had to pick the little imp up by the nape of his neck and carry him away so that he would not become a scrumptious terrier tartare.
Anyway, it all came out just as I planned it. After the regrettable but hilarious jailhouse incident, which Susan described to me in tearful detail afterwards, you’d better believe I didn’t let her get more than a few hours’ sleep: I poked and bothered her until she agreed to go see Davey at the museum the next morning. I knew his silly prior attachment to that Miss Swallow must be done for. He could not have helped realizing by then that life with Susan was the only thing that would make him happy.
By a tremendous flex of my feline powers of courtesy, I managed to stay in the car while Susan went in to speak with the fool. No Miss Swallow in sight, so I was at least spared the ordeal of chasing her away with many undignified snarls and claw swipes. In fact, I was so sanguine about the prospect of all my schemes coming together that I dozed off for a bit of a nap—warm car, you know, fine day, soft upholstery, cool breeze through the car windows… but then a tremendous CA-RASSH sounded from within the museum and jolted me awake. I bounded in there right away, ignoring the obnoxious screams of scattering staff and patrons. Leave it to my dotty humans to injure themselves (or worse?!) in the process of at last declaring their feelings. If I was going to be compelled to devote my time for the next weeks or months to sneaking in and out of hospital rooms, the parameters of my consternation would endanger every poultry truck in town.
But no, rejoice and rest assured, when I reached the big lizard skeleton gallery, my people were not broken on the floor, unlike Davey’s precious bones, which I could see at a glance were quite lost. The humans, far from injured, were embracing on a platform high above the remains of the skeleton. Well, whatever had occurred, it must surely have been the clumsiest possible way to arrive at the desired resolution, but there they were, in each other’s arms. I was not one to complain, though I had no doubt Davey’s colleagues would. In fact, it occurred to me that we had all three better leave as quickly as could be managed. I pushed a wheeled ladder across the room to just below their feet. They had by then commenced that mystifying mutual lip-smush that seems to be an essential part of the human mating ritual, and I had to roar up to get their startled attention. I managed to get them down and lead them away before anyone else came into the room, probably because no one wanted to follow where a leopard had lately trod.
Things have proceeded satisfactorily since then. I carried both the flowers and the rings at Susan and Davey’s mating formalization ceremony, which was highly attended once the invitees could be convinced that I would not actually bite anyone unprovoked. Elizabeth went traveling the world and left the house for her niece and new nephew, who wasted no time establishing proper quarters for me and George. Now Susan smells different, similar to a leopard shortly before she produces a litter. I dearly hope small humans are more manageable than their grown counterparts.