It certainly is a delightful day, thought Don as he sat in his living room with his French friend, Jacques. Perhaps we should be talking outside instead of inside.
But they remained inside for some reason. Meanwhile, the Frenchman was asking the Londoner, "Where is your son? I haven't seen him"
"He's up in his room, doing a book report", Don answered.
"On what?"
"Oh Dick Whittington"
"Ah, yes. The London boy with the matagot."
"The what?" Don asked.
"A matagot." Jacques answered. "That's what Dick's cat was."
"I see." said Don. "What's a matagot?"
"A matagot," explained the Frenchman, "is a magician cat, with magical powers. According to an old French legend, if you catch one properly, and treat it as you should, it would bring you good luck and great fortune."
"Ah." Now Don was interested, for he had seen for himself a black-and-white cat that could do magic tricks, including pulling seven kittens out of a hat. Could that be a matagot?, he wondered. But all he said out loud was, "Go on. What do I have to do?"
"Well," Jacques continued, "First, you must find a matagot, of course. When you do, you must lure it towards you with a plump chicken. When it comes, pick it up and take it home without looking back. As for how to treat it, all you have to do, is give it the first mouthful of food, and the first sip of water, or whatever you're drinking, at every meal. If you do this correctly, the matagot will give you a gold coin each morning, and good luck to boot."
"I see." said Don. He and Jacques chatted a while longer, until the Frenchman decided to leave. After they had exchanged "au revoir"s, the Englishman set out to find that magic cat he had seen....
A few blocks away, Mr. Mistofolees, the cat Don was looking for, was trotting down an alley, along side his best friend, Rum Tum Tugger, who was telling about how he had mauled a Pollicle the other day.
"I told it to some she-cats to impress them, and what do you know? The didn't believe me!" the lion-like cat lamented.
"I think it was the part about you chasing the dog up the tree." Misto replied. "Dogs can't climb trees. Are you sure it wasn't the other way around?"
Tugger was about to respond, when something ahead caught his eye. "Hey Misto," he asked, "what's that human doing?"
Misto turned his head to look and saw a human male kneeling in the street in front of the two cats, holding out the fattest, tastiest chicken they had ever seen, and making those weird noises that the humans used as language.
"Must have lost his mind," the black cat said. "But that chicken sure looks good!" So saying, he trotted toward the man, asking, "Can I have that chicken, please?"
Don smiled when the black cat came up to him, meowing. With one swift movement, he grabbed the little animal in his arms, let it have the chicken, and turned around back toward his house, determined not to look back. The cat held the chicken with its forepaws and ate it quickly, and when it was done, it looked up in Don's face and uttered a grateful, "Meeooww!" Don chuckled, and said, "You're welcome."
It was no doubt the best chicken Mr. Mistoffolees had ever eaten. It was so tender he barely needed to chew it, and it tasted absolutly heavenly. Misto looked up at the human when he was finished and said, "Thank you for the chicken. It's the best I've ever had." The man made that strange "heh heh heh" sound that was the human equivelent of purring, and followed that with more strange gibberish.
Misto had almost completly forgotten Tugger, until the leonine cat yelled, "Hey! What about me? Can't I have any?" Hearing this, Misto tore off a tiny bit of the remaining meat, and tossed it to his friend.
"Thanks!" said Tugger, and stopped to eat the mouthful of meat the black cat had given him. But by the time he was finished, and he looked up, both Misto and the human were gone. Confused, the huge cat got up and searched unsuccessfully for them. But he didn't find a trace of neither cat nor man, so he decided to head back to the junkyard to tell the others what had happened.
