humans had any idea of how smart cats were. Especially himself, Isno Gravity. If he could conquer the iron fence, his nagging curiosity could at long last evolve into yesterday's interest.
The fence could be found at the edge of Morristown Forest, at the end of Gable Avenue, the same street where his human lived. Iron bar points not quite as sharp as the tips of his two magnificent protruding fangs ran along the top of the rusted iron.
He remembered roaming the mansion's perimeter one night when some boys hurled rocks over the fence at the mansion. Front window glass shattered with a tinkling fracture. This puzzled him. He couldn't put his claw between the fence's uprights because of an invisible barrier, yet the boys’ rocks easily sailed over the iron bars. In cat fascination, he watched as they ran, laughing, yet in obvious fear of the human inside the old building. He stared at the broken window. The pane of glass became whole, healing itself.
With thoughts of the rocks soaring past the fence, Isno decided to give bounding over it another try. Being the greatest cat in the world, giving up didn't seem to be an option. Toward the mansion fence, Isno ran faster than if dog-chased. His yellow eyes were on the target of his leap, about a dog or so above the pointed bar tips. He leaped high into the air, easily clearing the fence points and smacked into the invisible barrier. It didn't frighten him. He had tried many times before, only to collide into the same hidden obstacle, bounce off and land back on the ground; each time with a screech of disappointment. Why couldn't he jump over the dog-darn fence if boys could lob rocks over it? How could it defeat him each time? It defied his considerable cat logic.
"Isno Gravity. Would you like to come in?"
Isno leaped sideways and defensively rolled over on his back, his claws bared and scratching the air to ward off a would-be attacker, his cat heart almost giving up one of his lives. The voice had come from the fence itself and had scared him beyond all cat reason. Isno realized his intelligence far exceeded any other living thing in existence; not to mention all non-living things. Well, if a fence wanted to talk to him he would talk back. “In come I?"
Isno's ears popped out from their flat-against-his-head attack-protected mode into their fully extended listening position. Did he say that aloud? In an almost human-like voice? Surely it couldn't be. He tried again. “I in come?"
"Saturday night,” the fence said. “The fence master will lower his guard to allow human Paul Winsome to enter."
"Talk I am always want,” Isno said with immense cat glee. “Be happy I. Fence? Cat me. My human? Hear?"
"I would not know. I am a fence.” The fence laughed. “Get it? I am a fence. And I said—"
"Human my. Hear?” Isno repeated, not sure if the fence had heard his first try.
The fence sighed. “Your human will hear before Saturday has expired."
"Talk I?” Joy raced through the cat more pleasurable than teasing dogs or catching birds. He purred through a cat smile. “Talk I."
"Saturday night. Be late and you will find a shut gate."
"Leap I?"
"Listen, Isno Gravity. Did I not say gate ?"
"Say you."
"If you wish to enjoy the gifts of speech you must first learn to listen, Isno Gravity. You know how aptly you are named. Would it not be pleasurable to be able to thank the boy who gave you your splendid name?” The fence fell silent for a long moment before asking, “How will you enter?"
"Gate. How cat I?"
"The opportunity will present itself as Paul Winsome enters. And so, we arrive at an understanding, Isno Gravity. I believe I have a treat for you which will forever bring you pleasure when remembered, provided the predictions are correct. It is all up to your human, Paul Winsome. If he fails, we will no longer have the pleasure of life."
Isno purred, until his above average cat mind replayed the fence's words. If he fails, we will no longer have the pleasure of