Free The Catbyrd Seat by Emmanuel Sullivan Page A

past ten.
    “Have you heard the news?” They asked, looking incredibly shaken up and surprised. It was Colitta, the camel.
    “I... don't believe I have – “ answered Mr. Byrd uncertainly. “What news might that be?”
    “It's Nine Lives,” said Colitta.
    “He's been taken sick. He's in the hospital. They don't know whether he'll make it.”
    Everyone in the Kingdom and the Reservation had been expecting it for some time. Nine Lives had been in the hospital on more than one occasion. He was old and often got sick. Everyone knew that sooner or later, he would die, and yet still, the news came as a shock and a surprise, especially so soon after meeting and speaking with him merely the day before. Mr. Byrd, selfishly, couldn't help but wonder what would happen to their agreement if Nine Lives were to pass away.
    So much for spending the day at the shop , he thought to himself as he hurriedly closed up and rushed out, making his way over to the hospital, which was situated next door to the Palace.
    There was already a large crowd outside when he arrived, and lions on the door stopping anyone except immediate family and invited guests from going either inside or out.
    “Is there any news?” Mr. Byrd whispered to a zebra.
    “No, nothing.”
    Despite the best efforts of the doctors, the prayers and thoughts and wishes of everyone in Huntsville, and the loyal hour by hour vigil that stood outside the hospital waiting for his recovery, Nine Lives sadly passed away in the early morning of the following day.
    The whole of the city seemed to grind to a halt; all jobs and schooling and election campaigns and arguments were temporarily put on hold in favor of mourning for their lost King. For most of the mice and the animals in the Kingdom, Nine Lives was the only ruling monarch that they had ever known, and they weren’t sure how things would proceed now that he was gone.
    The state funeral was a solemn but celebrated affair, with animals lining the streets on either side as the coffin was brought through all of Huntsville, both the Kingdom and the Reservation, on display publicly for all to see and for all to mourn, and it was nearly a whole two days later that Mr. Byrd and his campaign team finally decided to get back to work. They had left a considerable amount of time, firstly out of respect for the departed King and secondly because they weren’t sure where things stood in terms of the election, and whether it would all still be going ahead.
    On the evening after Nine Lives’ funeral, however, his daughter, Samantha, read out testimony. A tiny clause had been added at the end, but one which was of the utmost important to Mr. Byrd, signed and dated from two evenings previously, the day of Mr. Byrd’s meeting with the King.
    “In the event of my death, the elections due to be held in four days time shall go ahead as planned,” it read. “My son and heir, Strip, shall ensure that the elections are fair and free, and that both candidates have a chance at winning the seat.”
    Even in the solemn mood of that night, there were celebrations in the camp of Mr. Byrd, and the following morning, the whole of the city came out once again to watch Strip’s coronation as he was crowned King of Huntsville.
    It was the moment Strip had been waiting for all his life. He wasn’t sad for his father’s death, as Samantha was. He had never felt particularly close to his father. As far as he was concerned, the old man was a fool and far too soft on the mice. He’d grown even kinder with age given that ridiculous clause tacked onto the end of his will. Strip had no intention of following it. Yes, he would allow the elections, because if he didn’t, there would surely be uproar, but that didn’t mean he had to ensure the elections were fair. He would make certain that his best friend Whiska won back the seat for the cats and continued his reign as Prime Minister of the Reservation.
    During the celebrations for his coronation, Strip