The next time Sheba visited, she urinated all over the kitchen floor. Janet screamed when she found the mess, pulling her hair in frustration as the puddle crept onto the rug by the door. Tristan tried to calm her down. He stepped outside, which made Sheba howl in agony. It sounded like a child. The shrieks made Sebastian’s ears turn. No wonder her master had to tow her along on his visits. She would have alerted the entire neighborhood to what was going on. Tristan returned with a roll of paper towels in one hand, a plastic bottle of green, foamy liquid in the other, a pair of rubber gloves in his pocket, and a mop under his arm. He removed the rug and cleaned everything so ruthlessly that even Sebastian could no longer smell what had happened. The next night, a new rug greeted Daniel when he came home from work.
After that, Tristan put Sheba in the basement. If she had another accident, at least it would be easier to clean and hide. Sebastian waited for Tristan and Janet to start making their noises in the bedroom. Then he visited Sheba. She stared at him as he paced the floor. When he was within range, she sniffed his head. He wondered what her tongue would feel like, and then the next thing he knew, she was licking him from his eyes along his skull to the back of his neck. Sebastian retreated. Sheba stepped toward him, but the leash restrained her. Sebastian rubbed his head with his paws until it was dry. When he went back to her, she licked him again, more gently this time. He nuzzled against her, feeling her fur mingle with his own, and hearing her heart thud against her chest, the breath going in and out. Within minutes, they were huddled together and dozing off as though they were animals in the wild groping for warmth from other members of their pack.
SEBASTIAN HAD NEVER known what happiness was. Now that Sheba visited, he had someone in his life who understood. Someone who forgave him for who he was.
Because he was neutered, with no exposure to cats since his birth, cuddling with Sheba was the closest Sebastian had ever come to experiencing physical intimacy. But it was more than enough. The simple act of determining the positions in which they slept became a profound, almost sacred, act, every bit as complex as outright mating. Typically, Sheba preferred to be the big spoon, since Sebastian was so much smaller. Throughout their sessions, they would have to shift in order to facilitate breathing or circulation. Sometimes they were content to merely touch foreheads, or for Sebastian to rest the crown of his head on the middle of Sheba’s back. If it had been a particularly long day, they would face each other in an embrace, their legs overlapping. Sheba, being the more fidgety of the two, would normally be the first to break the pose. Sometimes Tristan and Janet would have to wake them up. The couple seemed happy to see their pets so friendly with each other.
After some convincing, Sheba joined Sebastian on his regular patrols of the house. They explored the basement together, sniffing around the old tools and sports equipment. Once, when Tristan failed to secure the leash properly, Sheba broke free and followed Sebastian upstairs, through the many rooms of the second floor, under tables, behind shelves, into closets that had been left open. Sebastian led her past his masters’ bedroom and into the far reaches of the forbidden attic. Though Sheba was scared at first, she soon found the place as irresistible as he did. It was their secret world, a conquered land. Her presence made it seem new again.
There was a moment as the summer sun was going down when Sebastian remembered that terrible thought he had had so long ago: that one day, he would die in this place. If he had shoulders, he would have shrugged. It no longer mattered if he died here, whether it was in another ten years or that very instant. Sheba’s breath was heavy on his neck. His head rested on her outstretched legs. Everything was now, in the present moment, and it was perfect.
SEBASTIAN LEARNED TO recognize the sound of Sheba’s feet hitting the grass when she played in Tristan’s backyard. There was a large tree, its branches humming with beehives, and its trunk choked by a pack of slithering vines. It may have been Sheba’s favorite place in the world. When she was there, she did not always notice Sebastian. If she did, she would bark a few times to say hello. The stray cats occasionally teased her, but she chased them away before they could unsheathe their claws.
One day Sebastian was surprised to see Hank, the dog from across the street, in the Martinis’ driveway. He walked slowly, exhausted. Sensing something was terribly wrong, Sebastian scanned the backyard for Sheba. He spotted her reclining in the shade of the tree. Hank trotted off, his eyes fixed on Sebastian. The dog’s expression suggested that he had gotten away with something.
IN A WAY, Sebastian was fortunate to not yet understand that nothing lasted forever. He was unaware of the war that was brewing while he and Sheba held each other. And when Sheba began to act differently, he failed to notice at first. After a while, it seemed that all she did was sleep. They no longer performed their cuddling ritual. Sebastian would often find her already passed out, and he would have to creep up next to her. More than once, she woke up and irritably pushed him away. He ignored it, repositioned himself, and fell asleep again.
There were other things going wrong. Whenever Janet was alone, she would huddle by the television and watch the ghostly people on the screen. It was always the same: a river of text flowed beneath explosions, people running, buildings on fire, green trucks rolling along highways, men and women with helmets marching, building bridges, demolishing things, using flamethrowers to burn massive hills of dirt. And in between all the images were videos of creatures that Sebastian had seen crawling in the grass outside the window: ants. They were always on the television, always marching in a line, sometimes covering entire fields and picking apart dead farm animals. Sebastian saw people running away from ants the size of the Martinis’ car. The monsters could walk on their hind legs, and their jaws were strong enough to lift a human at the waist. This footage went on for a few days until Daniel came home and switched it off while his wife was watching. They yelled at each other, and when they were done, Janet sat in the room by herself, crying. After that, she turned on the television only when her husband was out of the house.
By then, Michael was walking on his own. One time, he refused to go to sleep, and she agreed to let him watch. All the channels were playing the same thing now. Nothing but ants and fires. But this time, there was footage of a new creature. A pack of wolves, walking on their hind legs, approaching the camera. One of them carried a club in his hands the same way Daniel would hold a hammer. This was followed by a choppy clip of a group of animals marching alongside the giant ants. Sebastian could hear people screaming. Michael cried when he saw it. Janet shut off the television and cradled the child until he quieted down.
Soon after, Daniel began carrying cardboard boxes filled with water bottles, canned vegetables, and jars of peanut butter to the basement. One night, he hid a strange object behind the shelf where he kept his tools. It was a long metal tube with a wooden base. He placed small red cylinders into a hole in the side of the object. Then he propped the wooden base on his shoulder and aimed the tube at Sebastian, making a popping noise with his mouth. After his master went to bed, Sebastian sniffed the device a few times before giving up on figuring out what it was.
A few days passed, during which Daniel occupied the basement, his body odor lingering in a cloud around him. Sebastian took to hiding in the attic. There were trophies, old record players, photo albums, winter coats hovering on hangers — an entire lifetime’s worth of objects. But they had been sitting there for so many years. Too musty and old. They could not compete with Sheba. For a brief time, he held out hope that she was hiding somewhere in the attic. He would meow and wait for her to answer, or he would nap on an old comforter and expect her to be there when he woke up. Nothing worked.