//------------------------------// // The Best Laid Plans Fall Short // Story: Cat's Eye View // by applezombi //------------------------------// I am a hero.  A living legend in my time, and the very best in the world at what I do. It’s true!  If I were lying, would I receive such generous rewards for my services?              “All them field mice are out of the barn?” The Orange Pony always smelled of sweat and apples.  She was also very timely with the pay for my labors.  I liked Orange Pony. “Good work, Mister Cat.  C’mon, let’s get you a treat.”              A treat?  No.  It was payment.  Properly earned.  But ponies were often silly, so she could be excused.  I followed after her as she trotted out of the barn.              Winona sat just outside the barn, her paws crossed in front of her as she rested in the shade.  I gave her a solemn nod of greeting, and she stood up, tail wagging, to run over to me.  The tongue was already out.  I graciously allowed the canine affection for a few seconds before letting her know with a patient sort of swipe of my paw (claws safely sheathed) that I’d had enough.  Winona was a good friend, even if she was a bit too moist.  She pranced along behind the two of us as we headed towards the house.              “Now you wait right here, Mister Cat,” Orange Pony said.  She didn’t know my name.  Nopony did, except perhaps Yellow Pony With the Nice Voice.  But I suppose at least Orange Pony’s name for me was accurate.  I am, after all, a cat.  “I know you don’t like to come inside a pony’s house, so I’ll bring your cream out to you.”              I curled up on the porch just outside her back door, and Winona danced about near me.  She wanted to play, panting and yipping about as if I were some sort of dog as well.              Her intentions were good, I supposed.  I may have batted at her a few times.  It’s good to indulge friends on occasion.  When Orange Pony came out with a bowl full of warm cream, however, playtime was over.  It was time for payment.              “Now I should warn you, Mister Cat.  I’ve been talking with Fluttershy, and she told me that…”              It seems I wouldn’t get to find out yet what Yellow Pony told her.  Striped Pony was trotting up the road, and called out to Orange Pony with a friendly wave.  There was a second pony behind her, one of their kittens.              Wait.  Not kittens.  Foals.  That’s what pony children were called.  The foal was white and brown in odd patterns across his fur, somewhat similar to a calico.              “Zecora!  Good to see ya!” Orange Pony called back.  “You too, Pipsqueak.”              I am well aware that all ponies have names.  All creatures do, in fact.  But how could I possibly be bothered to remember every single one of them?  I am a cat of great importance, with a very crucial role in Ponyville.  I can’t muddle up my mind with trivialities.              “I wish you a lovely fall morning,” Striped Pony called cheerfully.  “I’m sorry to come without warning.”              “Nah, you know we’re always happy to see ya, Zecora! What brings the both of you to Sweet Apple Acres?”              I lapped at the cream in front of me.  Pony business wasn’t usually very interesting, though it was useful to listen in, just in case there were any juicy tidbits.  Besides, it cost me nothing to eavesdrop while I drank.              “Well, as you know, Featherweight is in Canterlot for his surgery,” the colt said.  “And it’s my duty as class president to help out those who had to take sick days.”  He held up a camera.  “So today I’m filling in as lead reporter and editor for the Foal Free Press!”  The foal sounded very proud of himself.  As well he should; it sounded like he was a pony that understood duty and obligation.              “Really?  An’ what’s your latest story?” Orange Pony asked.  The colt retrieved a small notebook and quill from his saddlebags.              “Why, Nightmare Night, of course!” he said excitedly.  “Miss Zecora’s in charge of Ponyville’s celebrations again this year, and she was kind enough to help me with my story.  It’s my favorite holiday, after all.”              “I see,” Orange Pony sounded amused.              “I told him all about the decorations,” Striped Pony said.  “Though that is only part of our preparations.”              “She said you were in charge of security,” the colt’s face was twisted up in confusion.  “But what do we need security for?  Or from?”              “Lookin’ for your latest headline?” Orange Pony smirked.  “I don’t mind tellin’ ya, as long as you don’t cause a panic with your story or nothin’.”  She shook her head.  “Part of the celebration is takin’ the young folks on a tour out into the Everfree, to the statue of Nightmare Moon.  Well, the last few weeks we’ve been seeing a lot of timberwolves about.  So Zecora ‘n’ I have been comin’ up with some of the cleverest timberwolf repellents and traps ever.”              “The ideas were yours,” Striped Pony laughed.  “Your plans will keep them safe on our tours.  I just supplied the alchemy, Applejack supplied the perspicacity.”              There was something very strange about the way Striped Pony spoke.  I couldn’t quite put my paw on it.              “I’d love to write about these timberwolf repellents for my paper,” the colt said eagerly.              “Why, sure!” Orange Pony said.  “Zecora whipped up a real doozy of a potion.  It combines a timberwolf lure and a magic suppressant.              “So you’re just going to lure them all to one spot and trap them?” the colt asked.              “Eeyup,” Orange Pony drawled.  “We dug a big pit.  That way, all the timberwolves will get lured in, fall into the potion goo at the bottom, have the magic that holds ‘em together fade away for a tic, then a few days later it wears off, and they can go about their business.”  She huffed.  “Whatever that is.”              “That sounds quite clever,” the colt said, writing frantically on his comically small pad of paper.  “And tell me, what else is in store for us Nightmare Night?”              “Don’t go thinking you can weasel any spoilers about the celebration itself outta me, Pipsqueak,” Orange Pony cocked her hat as she smirked.              “Aw,” the colt sounded dejected, before his eyes sharpened with determination.  “But that can’t be all!  There has to be something you can tell me!”              I shut the rest out.  There wasn’t anything else worth hearing, so I focused on finishing the rest of my reward.  I even while considering how to obtain my next one.  Book Pony was often a safe bet.  Even though she lived in a much larger house now, Book Pony still felt better when I made regular patrols for small intruders amongst her precious tomes.              “Um, Mister Cat?” the young foal’s voice broke me out of my planning.  I glanced up from my tragically empty bowl of cream and licked my lips.  “I was wondering what you thought about Nightmare Night.  Maybe I could put it into my story.”              A pony?  Wishing to know a cat’s opinion?  Very interesting.  I liked this colt, so I gave him an honest answer by flicking my tail with boredom.              “Ah, well, that makes sense,” he said, writing something down in his notes.  “I don’t suppose cats have much to do with pony holidays anyways.  But I thought you might have different feelings about this one, considering the old suspicions about black cats.”              My ears perked up at that. Black cats, such as myself, had once been considered unlucky by ponies.  They had, of course, long since overcome such silly prejudices.  But we were still seen as somehow symbolic of this one pony holiday, the one they used to celebrate their best princess.              I may not care about pony holidays, but I supposed at least their dark princess deserved to be worshipped.              I meowed casually.  The foal scrunched up his muzzle in confusion.              “I wish I could speak to you the way Miss Fluttershy does.”  He glanced over at Orange Pony.  “Is he your cat?”              “Nah,” she replied.  “Mister Cat’s a free spirit.  All Ponyville’s his home.”              That lovely comment deserved some gratitude.  I padded over and rubbed against Orange Pony’s legs affectionately, earning a laugh and a little scratch behind the ears.  It was a great honor to be allowed to touch a cat, after all, and she certainly deserved it.              “Oh,” the colt said.  “Then, if you want, Mister Cat, you can come with me back to Ponyville.  I know I can’t exactly understand you, but I’d like to ask you more questions.”              It was acceptable.  I leaned over to give Winona a quick nuzzle of farewell, then walked over beside the colt and meowed.              “That sounds like a yes,” Orange Pony laughed.  “Sounds like he’s taken a liking to you, Pipsqueak.”              “Thank you, Mister Cat!” the colt said.  “I’ve got a few more ponies to interview for my story, but we can chat all the way back to town!”              The foal waved goodbye to the two adults, and the two of us trotted down the road.              “Now I know it’s true that black cats aren’t really unlucky,” he began, as we traveled side by side among the apple trees that lined the road.  “But have you ever been treated badly because of it?”              I meowed dismissively.  Most ponies I’d met believed in judging a creature by its actions.  As I was a great hero, a stalwart cat of impeccable lineage, behavior, and talent, I’d never met a pony that looked down on me.              Well, perhaps there was one.  The Purple-Maned Tyrant herself.  But I thought of her as little as possible.              “That’s good! You don’t know this about me, Mister Cat, but I love Nightmare Night.  Everything about it, the candy, the stories.  Dressing up, getting scared.  Sometimes Princess Luna even comes!”  His voice was full of reverence.  I wished I’d been in Ponyville for that.  It was before my own glorious arrival.              “I love black cats too, because they’re in spooky stories!” he continued.  I walked a little taller.  Black cats were amazing, after all.  “You’re not really spooky, but I’ll bet you could pretend to be.  You should ask Applejack if you could volunteer with the festivities.  I’m sure you could do something really fun!”              It was a grand idea.  I rubbed up against his side, purring.              He laughed.  “It seems you like the idea.  I’ll let Applejack know you’d like to help next time I see her.”                We separated right around Book Pony’s castle.  He waved his hoof at me, and I watched him trot off into Ponyville proper before moving on to the castle.              Accessing the interior of the castle was usually a quite simple matter of climbing a nearby tree, shimmying along the longest branch that reached to a second story window, leaping the two-pony-length distance to the closest window sill, crawling up one of the spurs of crystals that ran alongside the windows to the third floor, where the book pony usually kept a window open.              Kitten’s play, really.              Once I was inside, I wandered down the hallways towards the library.  That was the best place to find the book pony.              “Oh, hey, Midnight,” Book Pony’s pet lizard greeted as I sauntered down the hall.  That wasn’t my name either, but I suppose it was at least partially accurate because of the color of my fur.  I swished my tail in greeting.  “Yeah, she’s in the library.  C’mon, I’ll get the door for you.”  He opened the door for the two of us.              “Hey, Twilight,” the lizard called out.  “Midnight’s here.  I don’t think Applejack told him.”              “Good morning, Spike.  You too, Midnight.” Book Pony put down the book she was reading and trotted over.  “Um, we have some bad news for you, I guess.”  She let out a sigh, and I padded over to her, rubbing against her legs.  That usually made ponies happy.  While my primary duties involved chasing small vermin out of barns, libraries, bakeries, and other pony buildings, I also recognized a secondary responsibility of bringing joy to ponies with my presence and caresses.  She petted me gently.              “We’ve been talking with Fluttershy, and me and the girls came to the realization that you’ve been getting treats from several of us.”  A cold thrill of fear shot up my spine, and my back arched slightly.  “She informed us that this isn’t exactly… healthy or safe for a cat.  That it could lead to weight gain, high blood pressure, heart disease, and other health problems.”  I stepped away from Book Pony, lashing my tail in agitation as I eyed her.  “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we’ve agreed to limit your treats.”              I hissed.  The indignity!  The injustice!  It was absurd! How dare they even consider…              “Before you overreact, Midnight, you should go talk to Fluttershy about it.  She’s the one who arranged the schedule.”  I knew talking to Yellow Pony would be a mistake.  We would argue, and her eyes would go all wide and liquid and suddenly I would forget what we were arguing about and do whatever I could to get that sad look off her face.              Still, it couldn’t hurt.  I allowed Book Pony to pet me a while longer.  Then I stood, looking significantly at her pet lizard.              “Yeah, yeah, you want to be let out.  Hey, Twilight, shouldn’t we really install a cat door?”              “Sure,” Book Pony said, already looking at her book again.  “Put it on one of the lists.”  He rolled his eyes.              “C’mon, Midnight.  We’ll get around to it someday.”  I bumped against him gently, meowing softly.  I didn’t mind.  As long as Book Pony kept leaving the third story library window open, I could always get in.  “Good luck with Fluttershy.”  He didn’t sound like he had much hope in my chances.              A hero, however, never gives up hope.              I decided to make another stop before I went to visit Yellow Pony.  It might be dangerous, but as a creature of courage and skill, danger didn’t bother me.  Especially when it came to the potential rewards.              I would brave any danger if it meant another moment with her.              She was the queen of cats.  A goddess of grace and beauty.  Perfection of form and elegance.  I would give anything for a mere moment in her presence.  In fact, entire volumes could be filled with the heroic exploits I’ve done, the lengths I’ve gone to, in order to spend time with my beloved, the greatest of all felines to ever live.              The only obstacle, of course, was the Purple-Maned Tyrant.