Her owner was a human lady, with brown hair and a rather plump body. Her name was Fiona. She lived alone, with few male suitors calling, and fewer still female friends. The male suitors seemed disquieted by Jackie, which she could not understand. It wasn’t as if she caused much of a ruckus in the house; well, not as a habit anyway. Her only test of will was a staring contest between the humans and herself, a custom she was rather fond of. She was amused by the fact that her staring contests often left the males uncomfortable and paranoid. Fiona would tear Jackie from the unfortunate man’s lap, and put her outside, whispering annoyed reprimands in Jackie’s ear. The cat, of course, never took any notice of this; she was having far too much fun to feel guilty or bashful.
Fiona left the house seldom, though when she did, she would be gone for what Jackie considered to be eternity. However, it must be said that for Jackie, time was usually measured in the spaces she went without food for. Life without Fiona was dull, as this meant that she had to steal her own food. While this idea was romantic in essence, actually stealing her food was nowhere as fun or daring as it sounded.
Now and again fancy cars would show up at Fiona’s doorstep, and well-dressed gentlemen and ladies would go into her house with clipboards, pens, figures and charts. She knew what the people carried since she often nosed in their handbags when they weren’t looking. They would talk and talk with Fiona for hours on end, writing on pieces of paper and leafing through endless manuscripts. What this signified was a mystery to Jackie, though she was sure that it was in some way important, as Fiona would often make small, nervous movements while she talked to the people, and Jackie knew these as the signs Fiona made whenever she was talking to anyone important. There were cakes and biscuits as well as coffee being served whenever the people showed up, and Jackie had fun being a brave hunter in the wild land of lounge-chairs and paper-stacks. Jackie was fairly sure that Fiona provided the coffee, but she couldn’t understand why the people would drink such a vile-tasting drink. Jackie had once tried some when Fiona hadn’t been looking, and had spent an hour after that eating grass just to get the taste out. After that she stuck to hunting cakes and biscuits. They were, after all, much sweeter meats, and considerably easier to stalk.
One particular morning, the sun dawned quite like any other, shining as it always did, and the clouds floating in their usual place. Jackie began the day with sleeping until 11 a.m., then stretched, and nosed her way out of her cat-box. The smell of coffee greeted Jackie’s nose, and she wrinkled it in disgust. Oh, how you will ever mock me, my everlasting enemy, she thought. Jackie slinked her way around the dining room, and her mistress glanced down upon her, murmuring her affectionate hello. Jackie skilfully weaselled her way out of Fiona’s hands as she grasped at the cat, and strode out of doors into the garden. There she was greeted by the now-too-warm morning sun and the garden gnomes, who were by this time in their usual sunbathing poses, soaking up the cancer-rays. The dandelions were waving in the breeze as they peeped back and forth through the overgrown forest of grass.
Harry the gnome greeted her with a curt bow.
“Good mornin’ young leddy, and a good day to ye,” he said. “Did ye have a beautiful sleep this mornin’?”
“Good morning, Harry,” said Jackie. “I had a lovely sleep this morning. I never see you sleeping. Do you ever sleep in, or even sleep at all?”
“Oh no,” said Harry, “Me bein’ a gnome and all, never gets to sleep in, eh Bob?”
Bob turned around.
“Naw, it’s a law o’ life, which we never get to sleep in! We is always needed here as lawn ornaments, never getting a day off and all. It’s a cruel life, to be sure, but needed, cos if we weren’t ‘ere all day, who would be, eh? Never think of that, do they? It’s always up to the gnomes! Want someone to stand around all day in a painful pose? Ask the gnomes!
“Bloomin’ cruel world it is. And it’s not as if we get paid for our efforts, is it? Oh no, it might as well be slave labour, if you ask me! I mean, ‘ow much would it ‘urt if the evil companies gave us some legs which weren’t clay or whateva’. I can’t believe it, of all the inconsiderate…”
But here Bob’s rant ended, as Jackie, thoroughly bored with his drivel, and almost disgusted with herself for enduring it as long as she had, wandered off to another part of the garden. Here was a nice shady patch, under the trees, far away from those funny-talking gnomes. She wondered what to do, then decided to take another nap. It was cool underneath the tree, and the birds were singing. Jackie wondered whether any of them would make a nice brunch. After all, she hadn’t eaten for at least a half-hour. She beamed to herself; maybe she could try beating her past record of forty minutes! She remembered back to when that incredible feat had been accomplished. It had been hard, and she recalled almost dying. But all this thinking was making her sleepy, so she decided to take her nap.
“I probably wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said a voice. Jackie started and looked around. There was no-one to be seen.
“Over here!” said the voice. She looked in that direction, and seeing nothing, looked back the other way. A large, wet nose greeted her. She recoiled with a squeal, and the nose snorted with laughter.
The nose itself was connected to a great furry maw. The maw was connected to a set of golden eyes, and the golden eyes were connected to two furry ears. Everything was connected to a big brown face, and that big brown face belonged to a big brown body. It was a bear, and it was laughing at her. The cat hissed angrily. It only laughed in response.
“What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?” asked Jackie indignantly. The bear only laughed harder, rolling on the ground. In retrospect, it wasn’t even a very big bear. It was only a little bit bigger than Jackie, and about three times as fat.
At last, it gained its composure, though small eruptions of giggling escaped from its lips from time to time.
“I’m sorry about that,” said the bear. “It’s just a small trick I play on people from time to time. I hope you weren’t too startled.”
“Who are you?” asked Jackie briskly, still annoyed.
“Who are you?” asked Jackie briskly, still annoyed.
“My name is November,” it said. “And I’m a honey-bear. I’m here to give you a warning.”
“What warning would that be?”
“What warning would that be?”
“Don’t go to sleep! You have already spent far too many hours of your days sleeping. If you don’t stop sleeping soon, something will happen... something that you won’t like.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Just this: if you spend your entire life asleep, you will soon find yourself in a state unable to wake up.” And with that, he (for it was a boy-bear) let out a roar, and Jackie huddled down, paws over her eyes. When the roaring stopped, she looked up, and he was gone.
“Just this: if you spend your entire life asleep, you will soon find yourself in a state unable to wake up.” And with that, he (for it was a boy-bear) let out a roar, and Jackie huddled down, paws over her eyes. When the roaring stopped, she looked up, and he was gone.
What did he mean? She shook herself. Perhaps the coffee-scent from before had addled her brain. Yes, that had to be it. What a ridiculous notion! She needed a quick nap. By the looks of the sun, she had taken far too long a time without some lovely eyelid-inspection. So without a moment’s hesitation, she went to an apple tree, curled up underneath it, and went to sleep.
