Minx thinks he must have been born in the mid 1860s, he wasn’t the pick of the litter, in fact he was the runt but Nellie Moore, his human was very proud of him. His mother was a tabby his father, one could only guess, Minx never got to meet him he told me as he showed me the photo of himself and Nellie Moore. Minx himself had all the particular markings of an Egyptian brindled cat.
Though the smallest of his mother’s large litter he grew into a sturdy frisky chap. He loved to chase rats and he never stood down if there was some other who wished to invade his territory. He met his human one afternoon as he was exploring what turned out to be Nellie’s garden. She used to read to him by the hour and when she wrote her poems, he would lay across her desk. He’s convinced that this is how he learnt to read and eventually to write.
“I knew she was mine the moment I saw her!” he sighed.
He remained a rather smallish cat for all the years of Nellie’s life and just as frisky as though he were still a kitten, though when Nellie passed away some 30 years or so later (he wasn’t very precise about dates I’m afraid to say) one would have thought he’d have slowed down a bit himself.
When she passed away, he began his globe-trotting, as he didn’t feel inclined to attach himself to Nellie’s children or grandchildren. He never knew it, but Nellie’s youngest grand-son a toddler by the name of Michael searched for him for days and was disconsolate when he couldn’t be found … it was only years later that they would meet up again.
Minx rode the rails for a few years, visited New York and New Orleans and had a rather rowdy life never backing down from a fight and where the ladies were concerned, well let’s say he was the king of any quarter he happened to find himself. At one point he even took passage as the ship’s cat on the Lusitania the year before it was sunk. He said he would have enjoyed Europe probably much more if there hadn’t been a war on. He complained to me bitterly about “certain persons who think that cat is an interesting nutritious addition to their diets”.
He began to grow. He himself didn’t really realize how much. One morning, it must have been in the mid 1920s, he woke up with terrible cramps in his legs and his back. He was by now, back in the United States, in fact not far from Nellie Moore’s home. He caterwauled his pain and cursed his sort, then realizing that he’d spoken human stopped in surprise.
Micheal, now a man in his thirties heard the terrible sound of someone or something in pain and ran to see what was the matter. There, much to his shock and surprise, stood a cat. Not on all fours like a normal cat, but it stood like a human and a tall one at that. Micheal looked closely at the face of the cat.
“Minx?” he cried.
“Yes. And who are you if I may ask.” replied Minx in his meowing voice (which I’ve translated into straight human for my and your convenience).
Michael informed him and from that day forward, Michael was Minx’s butler, caretaker, valet and close friend. Michael left his family home and they travelled far and wide, finally settling on the small piece of land where I’d encountered the strange ghost like house in the woods. Minx informed me it was a gift from his ancestress, the great cat Sekhmet. You of course realize by now, that there was something rather magical about Minx. In fact, after much study and a few particularly lucid dreams, he became convinced that he was in fact a descendent of the great Egyptian Goddess.