[Lauchenoiria]

Yousef Chaher was at the end of his tether. It had been three years since he’d headed to Salad Land with his motley crew, and he was beginning to think that the Marquis would never allow them to leave. First it was jail, then it was lizards, and now it was these fur-covered sneeze machines. He’d tried writing to Leila, now that she was a queen, to ask for a nice, friendly invasion force, but he’d never heard back.
 
“Think about it this way,” Citlalnite said as he wiped down the counter and nudged a grey tabby to the floor, “you got out of Lauchenoiria, which was your original goal, no?”
 
“You’re just too scared to stand up to the government cause you think they’re Xiomeran puppets,” Chaher grumbled.
 
Citlalnite looked around sharply, as if they could be overheard by anything other than the twenty-seven cats of the Curious Cat Café, the home base for the Salad Land Cat Crew, and their current other job.
 
“Personally, I LOVE it here!” José enthused, scooping out a litter tray with an unnatural amount of joy. A calico batted at his fake cat tail as he tied the handle of the bin bag, eyeing himself in a nearby mirror to check that the fake whiskers he’d drawn on with eyeliner were still in place.
 
“Why are you still wearing that ridiculous costume? They did not give us a new uniform after they disbanded the lizard service,” Chaher grumbled.
 
“Because it’s FUN!” José laughed, ticking the calico under the chin.
 
“I hate you,” Yousef said, stomping over to the door to let the next round of customers in.
 
The Curious Cat Café had been set up around a month into their new roles as cat wranglers on the feline-infested island. While their primary job was TNR and rehoming, there simply weren’t enough homes to go around. It had been José’s idea to set up their own cat café for some of the homeless kitties, and Mayor Tlotli had approved the idea with great gusto. Tlotli seemed to approve every idea that meant Citlalnite had to stay near.
 
The cat café market on Salad Land was very saturated, to the point where pretty much every café was a cat café whether it intended to be or not. At first, with such a competitive market, they’d had very few customers. That is, until people started to realise that they were legally obligated to solve any cat-related problems. Then the queries started.
 
Today, there were a few regulars – Mickey Knife, the insane chef; a couple elderly men; and the owner of the Parrot House who gave a different name each time she was asked. There was also an anxious-looking middle aged couple, which Chaher immediately spotted, his heart sinking just a little more.
 
 “Excuse me,” the man said hesitantly. “I hear you can solve… problems.”
 
“Oh yes!” José interrupted, two pairs of cat ears perched on top of his head. “We’re great at solving problems – lizards and cats! Not boats though; we don’t do boats any longer.”
 
The couple looked at each other, clearly regretting their decision somewhat.
 
“Well there are no boats… as far as I know…” the man began.
 
“What is it?” Yousef asked impatiently.
 
“Well, you see, it’s Boots. He’s doubling,” the woman said.
 
“He’s… what?” Citlalnite asked. “I take it Boots is a cat?”
 
“Oh yes, he’s a wonderful cat!” she gushed. “So elegant; a tuxedo; always comes when he’s called and never eats things he shouldn’t! I couldn’t wish for a better cat!”
 
“Right, so what’s the problem?” Yousef snapped.
 
“He’s doubling!”
 
“I don’t know what that means,” Citlalnite apologised.
 
“Every morning when we come downstairs, there’s twice as many Boots!”
 
“I’m gonna guess you don’t mean footwear,” Yousef sighed, finally picking up his notepad.
 
“No, she means cats,” the husband said. “Identical cats. Four days ago, we came downstairs to find a second cat, with identical markings to Boots. We figured he’d just made a similarly-coated friend, but the next day there were four of them. And then eight. And then sixteen! And this morning…”
 
“Thirty-two identical tuxedo cats!” the woman exclaimed. “Not a difference between them!”
 
“Okay, even if they’re all littermates, that’s too many,” Citlalnite mused. “And completely identical markings are rare, especially in cats without a solid colour. Perhaps we best make a visit to your house and check this out.”
 
“Oh, please do!” the woman nodded. “We can’t afford to feed sixty-four cats tomorrow! And there’s not enough room!”
 
“Right, well, we’ll be round after close of business today. Please fill out this form with your details. Would you like a coffee while you do so?”
 
Citlalnite showed the couple to a table, taking their order and handing them a stack of complicated looking forms asking for their personal details and a description of their cat-related problem. The forms, which had been written in part by José and, naturally, approved by the Mayor, decided whether or not the problem was eligible for government funding. The forms were also, of course, designed to trick those filling them out into not being eligible for government funding. And also to confuse the filler, though that may have been unintentional on José’s part.
 
“Excuse me,” the man said at one point, while Yousef was passing, “what does ‘rank seven different superpowers in order of preference’ have to do with there being thirty-two tuxedo cats in my house?”
 
“I knew someone who wasn’t a parrot should’ve proofread those forms,” Yousef grumbled. “Just say you want to fly and don’t like invisibility; it’ll make José like you.”
 
And as evening fell, the crew shut up shop and prepared to go and solve the mystery of the doubling cat.