Mittens has Class - Prologue

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The large, overcomplicated, phone on Judge Douglas Hillart's buzzed audibly with two long drones. Reaching over without looking, he pressed the speaker button. "Yes?"

"The...um...young lady, is here to see you, your honor." Came the voice of Thomas, his administrative assistant. He could imagine what the young man was thinking, assuming she was still wearing the same wild costume she had on in the courtroom. By the slight touch of amusement in Thomas' voice, Hillart figured that she likely still was.

He paused a moment, preparing himself. "Send her in, please." He said finally, inhaling a deep breath.

She entered his office a moment later, pausing after she closed the door to look around in wonder. His office was fairly roomy and lush, with beautiful black oak furnishings and shelves, deep midnight blue carpeting, and white cedar paneled walls. The shelves were mostly filled by well-organized legal jurisprudence, procedure and law guides, collected editions of various legal journals, and a small section with various useful books, like a dictionary, thesaurus, and Bartlett's Familiar Quotations.

"Please have a seat, Miss Wilson." He said, getting her attention and directing her to a chair in front of his large desk.

The young woman was wearing a perfectly normal short-sleeved white blouse and black knee-length shirt, but the rest of her attire was about as unusual as one ever saw in a courtroom. Fluffy black cat ears were perched on her head, a long black tail was attached to the back of the skirt, and her hands and feet had large stuffed paws on them. Fuzzy arm and leg warmers seemed to help the large padded things appear to blend into her limbs.

He was almost surprised that she hadn't drawn whiskers on her face as well. However, she was otherwise normally made up, with only minimal make-up. However, she seemed to exude a feline quality with how she moved and acted. It was almost impressive how naturally she seemed to project it.

"This is a really great office." She gushed brightly, taking another look around as she took up the dark leather chair. "Did you design it yourself?"

Hillart glanced around at the space. "Actually, my sister did. At least, the general scheme and layout. Some of the little knick-knacks are my own personal touches, but I admit, she has a great eye and I rather like it myself."

She looked at him with a wide grin. "Well, considering the teddy bear dressed as judge over there, I'd say that bodes well for me." She giggled. "Love his sunglasses, by the way. Really cool."

He looked over at the stuffed toy proudly. "Thank you, Miss Wilson." His sister had given it to him when he'd first graduated law school, his goal always to make it to the role of judge. She was one of the only ones who'd really supported him, their parents of the mindset that the whole world would be set against him becoming any sort of figure of authority.

However, he quickly pulled himself away from the straying thoughts and back to the matter at hand. "Now, as I told you in the courtroom, I have concerns about signing off on this change of name you want to make." He began as he turned back to her, clasping his fingers together on the desk in front of him. "While it doesn't directly conflict with the usual restrictions, I would hope you can understand why I have my reservations."

"I'm not crazy." She replied matter-of-factly. "If that's what you are worried about. I know it's a tad weird, I promise that I can see why you might think I'm not of sound mind. Still, I just want to be identified, officially, as what I emotionally identify as: a cat."

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking another deep breath. "You say that you recognize the oddity of it, but you still see yourself as a cat, not a human. Whether you recognize that as strange or not, it is still not something I would imagine as a 'sane' desire. Even if this is just for some attempt at establishing a unique identity for yourself, I am not sure how I feel about granting you the full name you are requesting: 'Mittens The Cat'."

"It's because of the middle name, right?" She asked, flashing a toothy smile. He couldn't help but notice that her canines were a bit longer than they should be. "I know it's a definite article, not really a name, but I mean, how important is the middle name, really? It just makes the rest of it work better."

He fixed her with an incredulous stare. "Miss Wilson, it is the WHOLE THING that alarms me." He waved a hand at her. "And all of this. It is one thing to play dress up and pretend to be a cat, you can express your personality however you want, but this is for official, government, record. It shouldn't be taken lightly or used as some kind of punchline."

She sat forward, patting at the air with the big plush paws. "I promise that I am taking this very seriously. This isn't a joke to me, your honor. I know all this seems extreme and kind of kooky, but this is about who I really am inside." She tapped her chest gently. "This is about more than just wanting this name. This is about a kind of reincarnation for me. I want to live as a cat, to be identified as a cat. I know it probably makes no sense to you, but I promise that this isn't something I take lightly at all."

Judge Hillart leaned back into his chair, regarding her for a long moment, before opening a file folder on his desk. "I've looked over your background checks and into the other files that they brought up. I saw that you were the only child of an alcoholic and, reportedly, negligent, mother. I admit, I'm a little surprised that child services never became involved, given the number of reports that were filed against your mother."

"There was never any official reports of child endangerment made, as I understood it." She replied soberly. "Though I don't think I was ever in actual danger from her. She could be mean and unfair, but she was usually too drunk to much besides make ugly comments."

"That is still abuse." He replied sympathetically. "It says a lot about you that you didn't follow the path that most children who grow up in that kind of situation do. Growing up as an African-American living in the projects myself, I know from experience how a lot of people in such situations end up turning out, simply due to the challenges we face. Many begin exhibiting delinquent behavior or become early alcoholics themselves. You, instead, actually got a job, paid the bills, and got your GED before your peers had even graduated."

"I had help with that last one." She replied with a grin.

"From a Mister James Brooksend?" He asked. "The same man who helped you become emancipated at sixteen, I assume?"

"That is correct, your honor." She replied. "He helped me a lot after my mother passed away. He is a very good man."

"Is he still in your life?"

"He is, your honor." She replied with a nod. "I live with him, as his cat. That was my choice, not his, by the way." She gave a smirk. "Just figured I should go ahead and jump out in front of that one. I'm sure that was about to come up."

Judge Hillart leaned forward. "What was about to come up?" He asked, though he knew what she was referring to, he decided to let her broach the subject first.

"That I am in an unconventional relationship dynamic." She said, showing no hesitation in admitting it. "We practice a full time power exchange where I acknowledge him as having social dominance over me. However, it is all with my complete consent and is my choice. I have provided the court with a legal document regarding that previously, just in case anyone felt the need to make some kind of complaint 'on my behalf'."

"I have seen it." He said, flipping a few sheets in the folder to a copy of that very affidavit. It also specified that the relationship did not begin until her eighteenth birthday. While the state they lived in actually set the age of consent at sixteen, this latter part seemed more intended to address any general concerns about the manner of the relationship itself.

"My desire to do this is all on my own though and is not anything my partner has requested." She continued, nodding decisively. "I's my own kitty. He just who holds ma leash."

"Most cats don't wear leashes." Judge Hillart pointed out with a slight grin, catching her a little off-guard.

"Wells, I's also a very obedient kitty." She countered, giving a sheepish grin in return.

Looking back at the file folder, he turned another couple of pages. "Your emancipation was presided over by Judge Amanda Cutler. She put in her notes how impressed she was with how you conducted yourself during interviews and with the whole process. Said you demonstrated a very obvious grasp of the gravity of your own independence and personal responsibility. While I have to admit, that has been my own impressions as well, I assume that you were not wearing ears at that point?"

"No, your honor." She laughed. "Though I would hope that it wouldn't have mattered if I had. I still understand the gravity of what I am appealing from the court. I am just wanting to follow my heart and this is what my heart guides me to." She lifted up her pawed hands before her. "I just want it to be official, because I don't want it to just be me pretending."

Hillart leaned back a moment, thinking of his own sister. Hadn't he heard something very similar from her own mouth, back when she was still 'officially' his 'brother'. Just as she had always supported his dream of becoming a judge, he'd always supported her belief that, inside, she was a real woman. Still, there was a very big difference here. This wasn't a case of gender identity, but a matter of wanting to be regarded as a whole other species.

The thought led him to a new question. "Do you think of yourself as...something akin to 'transgender'? Something like 'trans-species', I suppose?"

She raised her paws up defensively. "Oh, no, your Honor!" She said quickly. "I would never be so disrespectful to the trans community as to even suggest that. This is entirely a choice for me, one that I feel with my whole heart and am committed to, but I would not consider it the same thing, at all."

"Fair enough, I understand that." Hillart said, raising his own hands comfortingly. "However, would you say there are, at least, some very generalized parallels? That you feel like you are more a cat than a human being?"

Her face screwed up in uncertainty, as though balancing cautiously on her answer. "I accept that I am a human being, your Honor. I know that I am not, really, an actual cat. Nor do I think that I will become an actual cat. I do think of myself as a 'cat', just in my own terms."

Hillart still wasn't fully convinced. "Well, even so, I have to ask if this desire to become a cat has anything to do with your mother and the emotional abuse she inflicted on you." He persisted, needing to make sure that this girl wasn't making a rash choice. While she seemed very intelligent and well-spoken, that didn't mean she wasn't reacting to some sort of trauma.

Her initial response was a highly amused laugh. "Well, of course it does." She said finally. "Leaving behind all that terrible stuff has a lot to do with why I am doing this. My mother wasn't a good person. I want to say that I still loved her anyway, that I could see that she was just a victim of a disease. Maybe a part of me did, because she was still my momma and I can say that I don't feel any hate for her." She gave a little shrug.

"That doesn't mean I want to be a part of that life anymore though. You mentioned being surprised that I didn't turn out like a lot of kids who go through the same life I did. That is because I didn't want my life to be shaped by who she was or what she did to me. I didn't want to be that girl then, when I had no power to change it, and now that I can change it, I want to be the person and being that I choose to be. That just happens to be a cat."

Judge Hillart closed the folder, peering speculatively at this strange girl. "Why a cat?" Perhaps, more than anything, this question seemed to be at the real heart of all this. However, he wasn't quite prepared for her response.

"Why a judge?"

"I'm sorry?" He blinked at her, caught off-guard not just by the response itself, but how quickly she'd responded with it. "I'm not sure that is quite the same thing, Miss Wilson. Being a judge is a job, not an identity choice."

"Well, gosh, I hope that's not true." She sat forward, looking deeply into his eyes. "A judge has the power to completely validate or destroy a person's whole life, all with nothing but just their opinion. That doesn't seem like something that should be 'just a job' to me. I know I would want to be judged by someone who sees it as calling, not a career."

He found himself at a loss of words. In all his years as a Superior Court Judge, he'd never really considered what he did from quite that angle before. While he'd never taken his position lightly or failed to respect the responsibility that came with it, he'd never seen it so well boiled down to the heart of things like that. Of course, calling a judgement 'just his opinion' was probably a significant over-simplification, but he had to admit that it was no more of one than calling it 'just a job' either.

He found himself chuckling a little. "Okay, okay, I think I see your point. As strange as it may seem, I suppose that we can't always explain why we are called towards what we want to become. Still, surely you can see why it would seem odd that you wish to identify as a cat. You are obviously a very smart girl."

She sat back, casting a knowing look his way. "Your Honor, if you know anything about cats, I'm sure it should be obvious." She gave him a wink. "The better question is, who WOULDN'T want to be a cat? I mean, a cat can do just about anything and get away with it. Nobody expects anything from a cat besides looking cute, giving cuddles, and creating complete mayhem for no good reason."

He found himself once again at a loss for words, but his stunned silence was quickly replaced by a fit of truly deep laughter. He realized, against all logic and, probably, his better judgement, that he was starting to think that this girl might actually BE a cat after all. He had to admit, it seemed to bizarrely fit her.

"You are possibly the most unique person I've ever met." He said finally, trying to collect himself. "Or, I suppose, I should say that you are most definitely a cat." With a chuckle, he reached over and turned one of the pictures on his desk to face her. It was a picture of him and his cat, Gavel.

She brightened at the sight, but didn't seem very surprised by it. Instead, she just looked back and him saying the most perfect thing he supposed she could, in that moment. "Meow."

"Very well, Mittens, I am granting your request for a legal change of name." He said, sliding the official documents towards himself and taking out a pen. "Be aware that you must personally contact all the various agencies to let them know of the change. My administrative assistant, Thomas, will provide you with some documentation that covers what needs to be updated, who needs to be notified, and what you will need to send them."

"Actually, speaking of that..." She said, a broad and sheepish grin filling her face. "The people at the DMV said that I would need a letter from you granting permission for them to list my 'race' as a breed of cat. Since our state's licenses don't normally have race on them anyway, it would be put on a special note, but since it's an official document..."

For the third time, he found himself without words for a minute. Finally, he managed to ask. "What breed?"

"American Shorthair." She replied without a pause.

There was a moment of silence between them before he once again broke into laughter, Mittens laughing along with him. Finally, he opened a drawer and withdrew a sheet of official office letterhead. "Boy, they are going to be surprised to get an okay on this one." He said.