The Silver Protector And Me

The Queens' Council

Part 2 begins with an important meeting.

The Jellicle tribe was not some ragtag bunch of anarchical cats running around doing whatever they pleased, oh no.

What set Jellicle cats apart from the average antisocial moggie was that theirs' was a relatively civilised society; fully organised and democratic, complete with its own parliament and laws.

For example: a cat was considered an adult by the time they were twelve months of age (fifteen in cat years) and the age of consent was strictly prohibited before this.

Accidents did occasionally occur, although thankfully, these were uncommon, since the penalties for underage shinanigans could be severe. Perpetrators could find themselves banished, or even sterilised if the offence was a serial one.

Council membership was a fairly stringent affair too. One had to be female and at least a year old to join. Or, if one happened to be a mature newcomer, to have served the Jellicle community for at least that amount of time, but absolutely no one under the age of one. And definitely no kittens!

While males were not excluded from debates, they were not allowed to participate in the voting process, which basically meant that the senior panel consisted of the eldest and wisest queens, with the presiding chairqueen appointed by a deciding vote.

In effect, the yard was run by queens, and the only person they answered to was their figurehead leader, who was sometimes known affectionately as The Father of All Cats. Due to his great age and wisdom, it was he and he alone who had the power to finalize or overturn a majority vote, and if it was deemed necessary to do so.

Meetings were held daily at precisely 8 o'clock sharp and lasted for the best part of an hour, so Munkustrap knew he was lucky enough to have missed most of it… but not quite all.

He quietly approached the grand tractor tyre, around which the group of mature and senior queens were sitting. Twelve members were there in total, including Bombalurina and her assistant, three of his daughters Etcetera, Electra and Victoria, and also his niece Jemima... but not her mother Demeter.

She probably hasn't managed to get a babysitter, he guessed, and then noticed she wasn't the only one who was absent.

"Ah! Nice of you to join us, Protector," said Jellylorum, somewhat snidely. "Early as usual."

"My apologies. Some of us had work to do," he replied gruffly, taking a seat beside Jennyanydots. "Where's Tanti?" He whispered to her. He'd spied Rumpleteazer, keeping tabs on events from the safety of a nearby car hood, but no sign of his friend or her brother.

"Poor love wasn't feeling well, so she's gone to the Infirmary," she whispered back, too engrossed in stitching together the pieces of material to look up.

"Really?" He found that surprising. "I hope it's nothing serious?"

"Shouldn't have thought so, love." And she probably would have patted his paw had she not been so busy.

Looking around, he noted Cassandra, sitting stiffly with a horn-rimmed pince nez perched on the end of her slender nose, while her elegant fingers typed out all that was being said on a typewriter. She didn't make eye contact with him.

Then, Jelly asked, "Any news from the patrol?"

"Saint John's and Great Central were clear." He heard Cassandra's claws tap away as he spoke and watched Jelly's eyebrows arch in surprise.