The Tangled Tango: Part 1

Today Harrisonburg is cradled in a thick blanket of immaculate white snow. At least that's what humans think. But when sunlight hits snow, millions of transparent ice crystals shatter the beams into zillions of colorful photons that dart in every direction. The three primary color receptors in human eyes record all the reds, blues and yellows in equal amounts, so human brains level the chaos into pristine white. But Selofaine eyes from the fourth dimension, the transparent world, can't do that. To Hyaloid and Hyaline, the kaleidoscopic explosion is blindingly colorful. To protect their sensitive eyes, they've hidden inside. And we know where.

Recently the Dancing with Karen studio down the street started offering midnight tango lessons for felines. It's an outgrowth of H.A.T.S – the Harrisonburg Argentine Tango Society - and it's become quite a hit with the young ladies at the Cat's Cradle Adoption Center. Ella, Juliet and Bess are regulars, and the other night Juliet talked her brother into going, because Buzzy made such a dashing escort in his tuxedo markings. Buzzy, however, was not quite so happy about the whole thing and asked Brie to chaperone.

And again it was Brie of the tanzanite eyes who first saw Hyaloid. The shape-shifter had iced over the mirrors to watch the dancers, spreading himself to cell-thin invisibility. The following night, Sheena signed up for the class and confirmed the minute distortion in the mirrors as characteristic of Hyaloid.

It was a surprising move, hiding in a roomful of cats. Even though tangoing felines are not the most alert of clowders, the shape-shifter would never have risked such a thing had he known we were aware of his arrival in Harrisonburg. He was confident in his skills and was using them to spy on us. That put the element of surprise on our side.

When Boris and I arrived the following night, it was almost half past midnight and the class was well underway. Stunning mollys and stalwart toms slinked across the floor with flashing eyes. As I stood in the doorway, the room swelled with the heartbreaking bandoneón of Adios Nonino, a nostalgic reminder of my time in Argentina. Sheena flashed in front of me, gliding across the floor with a burly gray tiger. As a Manx, she had to finesse an alternative to the gancho-tail-step so popular among felines, and she did it beautifully.

Then I saw the instructor and my heart lurched. Of all the dance joints in all the towns in all the world, she slinks into mine. It was Uthopia, the magnificent molly who first taught me to tango in Buenos Aires. As I stood riven in the doorway, she glanced over and I heard her little trill of surprise. So did the entire class. A cat with my age and experience doesn't blush easily, but in that moment, I was grateful for the blessing of fur.

She came toward me, grass-green eyes and a rosy pink nose centered in a delicate triangular face. Uthopia doesn't so much walk as undulate, her lithe dancer’s body eloquently sheathed in silky black fur and suffused in the intoxicating scent of musk.

"Brumous, is it really you?" she purred.

© Silver Cat Works