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Ennen was and had been a large pup since day one. He'd been the largest of his litter, while Ierkai was the only kitten out of hers to turn out as slim and midnight black as her mother. She resembled her, from the sheen of beautiful coat and the graceful movements of her progeny, all except the way she would pull her mouth back in a snarl when she was displeased.

"You are like a dog," her mother said to her, distressed. She'd always say that, prim and proper cat that she was with a pedigree that probably went ages back. Ierkai's mother liked talking about what life had been like in Egypt--worshipped, like any other such cat should've been. It made Ierkai uncomfortable when she thought about it: ranking yourself over other creatures.

Maybe Ierkai didn't make a very good cat at all. She didn't like cleaning up. She liked playing, the messier the better. She suspected that she might as she grew up, but for now as a kitten, this was all she liked.

"I am friends with a dog," Ierkai replied, tongue slipping naturally into the uppity rhetoric. It was hard not to, when you grew up with this kind of mother. "I think it only makes sense."

"You must understand that I worry." Her mother sighed and rubbed her temples. Her many rings and jewelry glinted in the light: tokens from admirers of the old days, and also of current gentleman callers. Ierkai hated the indecisiveness, hated how her mother would string them all along and would never pick just one. "I beg you stop seeing him."

"I can't, and I won't," Ierkai said, fuming. Her long tail swayed back and forth. "I'm not you, I'm not like anybody in this family. If I want to play with him, I will."

Half of her wanted her mother to call her out on it, just so she could slash her pretty face with her claws, her and her beautiful green eyes. Ierkai had a pair of mismatched eyes, and heard the other cats say she looked like a traffic light that'd forgotten that red was an option. It hurt.

"You're a cat," Hanniah said. "You're supposed to act certain ways."

And what were certain ways, Ierkai wondered. Certainly not like her mother, always with different lovers every heat, and the children that came from them when it all was over. Certainly not keeping your feelings a secret.

"Well," she said frostily, "maybe this cat just wants to act her own way."

And her own way she did.

--

It was very easy for Ierkai to recognize she loved Ennen when she finally did. Time was a good teacher, and plus, she'd always liked Ennen. Ennen who was clumsy and big and bounded to her on all fours instead of his two hindfeet sometimes because he'd bowl over everything in his path. Ennen who brightened up as soon as she padded into the room, a big grin and a love for her that was clear. Ennen who, Ierkai was smug to think, loved her just as much.

It was hard not to, when you were being spoiled.

At times, though, Ennen made Ierkai frustrated. It wasn't like he did it on purpose, but sometimes he did or said things that just made her mad. She could never really put a paw as to what did exactly. Sometimes she wished he could read the mood: like how she just wanted to hang out with him instead of with other people, or how some days all she wanted to do was lie down on top of his body and soak up the sun. Other times, it was just something about him.

Ierkai got away with her anger, and never let it carry forth the next. There was never any reason to, not with Ennen sadly pawing at the front door a few minutes later, ringing the doorbell, begging "Erkai, y'mad? Don' be mad."

And he looked so happy when she forgave him, was so delighted--it was never Ierkai's fault for anything. Childhood was kind in that.

But then came puberty.

--

Puberty, Ierkai felt, had a lot to answer for. Ennen's soft belly was gradually disappearing into firmer muscles and other dogs were getting interested, as were other animals. That, and he'd pointed out that she really needed to stop scent-marking him, was what his friend Zayden said. They were older now, older enough that this was an "issue".

Zayden, Ierkai thought, could go pee on a hydrant. She'd met him once: a greasy haired Wheaten Terrier who needed to mind his own business.

Ennen was slow and stupid and she had no idea why she loved him, but the fact of the matter was, nobody else asides from her mother seemed to find it surprising they hung around--well that was, asides from his so-called 'friends'. All the cats that they both knew just were resigned to it. And she wished Ennen understood why that was.

"You datin'?" Ennen asked, after a bit.

"No," Ierkai said loudly, angrily, still stung from the rejection. This wasn't like her; this wasn't like how a cat was supposed to be. They were supposed to be all slick and stereotypically graceful, but she had none of that. She should've been born a dog, maybe. She thought back to all those talks she'd had with her mother as a child and shook them off.

Get a clue, Ierkai thought. She never told Ennen her thoughts outright like she had when they were younger, and she wished she hadn't stopped. But it wasn't Ierkai anymore to just give him the answers. She wished, wished, wished he knew--and her tail wagged back and forth to show it.

"Sorry," Ennen said, after a bit, glancing at her tail. He'd learned to read the differences between cats and dogs since their youth, but he still didn't know how to read her. He looked sad. Sad and stupid and she wished he wasn't like that all the time these days because it made it so much harder to enjoy the time she had with him--because they went to different schools, because cats and dogs really didn't usually play nicely together_._ "S'just Ma wanted me to ask."

So after his mother asked and he'd asked, he wasn't really interested anymore? She was glad she'd gotten angry. She'd met his mother a few times when they were younger: she would hang out there every day after school, up until she was smart enough to realize that the displays of teeth and the constant talking about _Ennen'_s day, and what a shame Ierkai wasn't a dog herself--that wasn't a female dog being nice.

"What about you," she said, more than an order than a question.

"Yah," he said happily. "Her name's GeeGee."

It made Ierkai's tail thrash, just as immediately as her heart fell.

"I'm going home," she said. She couldn't look at him. Ierkai didn't want to. She felt like he'd thrown her into a pool of water. She felt like she didn't know what to believe in.

"Okay," Ennen said. "See you tomorrow?"

Ennen, Ierkai thought, was so stupid. "Go see your girlfriend," she snapped, and left.

--

Zekhia was a cousin; but it didn't mean that Ierkai and her saw any closer eye to eye than they did before.

"Darling," she huffed, almost patronizingly, "if you won't have the boy, then send him my way."

"You can't have him," Irekai snapped. "He's a good guy. And he's already with someone."

"And this good guy is why you're talking to me," Zehkia said, humming. "Good show."

Ierkai hated her. Zehkia was full out blank panther, sleek and large, and very direct and controlling about how she did things. All her lovers were either animals bigger or smaller, always older or younger than her--she dommed in every relationship she had, and there was never really one that she settled on. They were all her 'pets'--little 'lovelies' of species that had caught her interest. Zehkia didn't understand what it was like for Ierkai.

But Zehkia was the only cat Ierkai could talk to--because Ierkai had long since alienated herself out from any groups. She smelled of dog often and she always turned down invitations.

"What do I do?"

Zekhia hummed. "Fuck him. Literally. Bone that doggy right in his ass. He'll come following you home."

Ierkai went red-faced. "I don't. I won't." She didn't want to think about it. It felt disgusting to her at the moment: the idea of bodies pressing together. At the same time, it held some sort of appeal: that Ennen would see the error of his ways, would come back.

It was stupid. Ierkai knew it was.

The panther laughed. "You say that now," she said, "but your face says a different story."

"I'm not you," Ierkai spat out. She stared down at her paws. "I'm not even sure why I bothered asking you."

"Just tell him how you feel," Zehkia said, stretching her back and her long, strong tail as well. "That's how I did with my first love."

"What happened after that?" Ierkai wondered.

Zehkia bared her teeth, and felt more predator dangerous to Ierkai than she had all week, dangerously playful in any sense. "Guess."

--

By the time Ierkai struck up the nerve to find Ennen, he wasn't there anymore.

And she didn't even need to have worried.

"He's got into the service," his mother said, chewing through the tobacco stick, and making Ierkai's nose wrinkle. She barked with laughter at her. "Too late, missy. Bye."

And slammed the door closed on her whiskers.