As Anton’s father stepped off the Metro from downtown Paris, everyone else was gathered at the dining room table. Even Nappy Cat was there, , leaping up to put his front paws on Anton’s knee. Anton dropped a tiny piece of bread to the floor next to Nappy.
“Are you feeding the cat again?”
Anton nodded.
“I’ve told you repeatedly not to feed the pets from the dining room table.”
“Well,” replied Anton, “I don’t feed Marcel.”
“That’s just because he cannot fit through the front door.”
Madame Marchant made it a point that food for the table was only fit for cats and pigs after the meal. She would place leftovers in the composting pile at one end of the garden. Once there, Marcel and Nappy would fight over who got what. Until then, they were not supposed to be fed.
Soon after that, Monseuir Marchant arrived home from work. Nappy Cat ran out to greet him. Marcel the pig greeted him, too. It was just as the two animals had done when Uncle Rupert and Anton returned home.
Monseuir Marchant maneuvered his way past them and into the house.
“Bonjour, mon amis!”
“Bonjour, papa!” replied Anton.
Madame Marchant prepared pot-au-feu, or “pot on the fire”. Boiled flounder, potatoes, carrots, and leeks filled the pot. It was her favorite meal to cook. It was everyone else’s favorite meal to eat.
Madame Marchant filled Monseuir Marchant’s plate as he took his seat.
“How was your day?” she asked.
“Same as usual; making semiconductors and shipping them to computer manufacturers around the world.”
As Monseuir Marchant ate, Nappy Cat came to his side. Monseuir Marchant secretly dropped a piece of fish to the floor. Nappy Cat immediately devoured his fresh catch.
“William! I just told your son that we do not feed the cat indoors and here you are doing the exact same thing!”
Madame Marchant shooed Nappy Cat out the front door. Now, he would be on Marcel the pig’s turf.
Meanwhile, the Marchant family finished dinner.
“Mother, may I take some fish bones out to feed Nappy and Marcel?”
“Make sure to split the leftovers so they will not fight over it.”
Nappy Cat followed Anton outside, where Marcel greeted them. As Nappy circled near Anton’s feet, Marcel pushed his hips against Anton’s legs. It nearly knocked Anton off his feet. Anton dumped separate halves of the food into separate parts of the garden.
Nappy immediately took his fish bones beneath the porch before returning to the garden. Then, he began stealing Marcel’s food, too.
“Quit it, Nappy!” scolded Anton. Nappy ignored him as he crawled under the porch. Marcel followed, attempting to shimmy under the porch. Unable to fit, Marcel began head-butting the side of the house.
“What is THAT noise?” exclaimed Madame Marchant.
Anton’s father ran to the window.
“Marcel is trying to crawl under the house!”
Everyone ran outside, only to find the real problem. Nappy Cat had stolen Marcel’s fish.
“Anton, fetch your cat right now!” exclaimed Madame Marchant.
Anton shimmied under the house and carefully retrieved his cat.
“From now on, Nappy will be your responsibility,” said his mother.
Anton took the cat inside and locked it into his bedroom. The cat, however, did not like his new prison. Later that night, Nappy escaped when Anton opened the bedroom door. He hid behind the living room couch.
After everyone went to sleep, Nappy appeared from behind the couch, taking over the front room of the house. Madame Marchant discovered Anton’s cat sprawled across the area rug, right beside her coffee table.
“Out with you! Out! Out! Out!”
Nappy scampered back to Anton’s room. He had successfully occupied the living room, but only for a little while. With Anton’s cooperation, Madame Marchant formed a coalition against Nappy Cat.
Every night, Nappy Cat escaped from Anton’s room. The next morning, Madame Marchant or Anton put him back into the room.
However, the “coalition” of of Madame and Anton Marchant was not having much luck with Nappy Cat. One morning, Madame Marchant found Nappy Cat on the kitchen counter, eating some of Uncle Rupert’s leftover cheese.
"Nappy! I’ve had enough of this nonsense!"
She took Nappy Cat back to his room and put him inside. Unfortunately, there was no lock on Anton’s door.
“Rupert, could you put a new lock on Anton’s bedroom door?”
Rupert nodded.
“I’ll give you several Euros so you can fix it. Will that be enough?”
Rupeert nodded again.
Uncle Rupert went to the hardware store and picked out a new doorknob with a secure lock. When he returned home, he quickly fixed it into place and showed it to his sister and nephew.
“How does it look?”
“Magnificent!” exclaimed Madame Marchant.
Anton locked Nappy in the bedroom. It was Nappy Cat’s private prison. Now everyone else (including Marcel the Pig) enjoyed some peace and quiet.
A few days of peace and quiet seemed strange to Uncle Rupert, who did not have to fight with Nappy while he enjoyed cheese and Brandy.
“Where’s Napoleon the Cat?” asked Uncle Rupert (who almost always called Nappy Cat by his full name).
“He’s still in Anton’s room,” said Madame Marchant.
“You’re leaving him there alone?”
“It’s the only way I can keep him out of trouble.”
“You mean keep him out of your way,” replied Rupert.
“If he’s out of my way, he’s out of trouble.”
Still, Nappy Cat would find trouble, even locked away.
“Nappy! Look at what you have done!” exclaimed Anton.
Uncle Rupert went upstairs to see what happened. Nappy had torn through papers, spilling them across the floor.
“Look!” exclaimed Uncle Rupert, “you cannot leave a cat in a bedroom like this. He will make a mess.”
“Where do you suggest we put him?” asked Madame Marchant.
“How about the attic?”
“I guess that would work for now.”
Anton locked Napoleon away in the attic. This time, thought Madame Marchant, her problems would be solved.
It wasn’t until Monseuir Marchant was disturbed that Anton’s cat would truly be in trouble. Until then, Uncle Rupert was sent with Anton to make sure Anton’s cat would not bother Madame Marchant again.
“Would you like to hear a bedtime story?” asked Uncle Rupert.
Anton nodded.
“It’s about Napoleon.”
“Napoleon, my cat?”
“Not really,” said Uncle Rupert, “It’s about the Emperor of France.”
“Oh,” replied Anton.
“That’s okay, though, because it could be about Nappy Cat, too.”
Anton tucked himself into bed, eager to hear about his cat.
“There once was a great Emperor, named Napoleon Buonoparte.”
“This isn’t about my cat,” sighed Anton.
“Just listen,” said Uncle Rupert.
“There once was a great Emperor, named Napoleon Buonoparte. He was also known as Napoleon the First, Emperor of France.”
“After the French Revolution, all of Europe was in turmoil. As one author put it, ‘It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.’ France was not yet a country. Germany wasn’t a country either, just a collection of tribes.”
“What do you mean by ‘tribes’?” asked Anton.
“Large groups of people lived together. They would roam from place to place, hunting and gathering the things they needed to survive. They worked as a group, co-operating to solve their problems. A warlord ruled over each tribe.”
“What is a warlord?” asked Anton.
“A warlord is like a general. These warlords ruled Germanic tribes, including the Goths, Visigoths, and the Saxons. They were also called Barbarians.”
“Although people were unhappy with the King and Queen of France, they loved Napoleon. He would lead them out of poverty and despair. Soon after the French Revolution, Napoleon became King of Italy. It wasn’t long after that he became the Emperor of France. He invaded Northern Eruope, attacking many of the Germanic tribes.”
“This has nothing to do with my cat.”
“But it does. Just like Nappy Cat invading every part of the house, Napoleon invaded all of Europe. As he became more successful, he angered more people, too.”
“So they put him in the attic?”
“Not the attic, but they exiled him to an island named Elba. It was very much the same thing. Eventually, Napoleon was allowed out of exile.”
“What happened when he returned to France?”
“The French Empire was in ruins. Although he escaped from Elba, countries like Austria, Prussia, and the United Kingdom had joined forces. It was called ‘The Sixth Coalition’. Even many of the Germanic Tribes had joined forces against Napoleon. Less than a year later, as he traveled north from France, he was thoroughly defeated at the Battle of Waterloo.”
“Is that what it means to ‘meet your Waterloo’?”
Uncle Rupert nodded, “that’s exactly what it means. Even Napoleon stated that even though he’d won over forty major battles and wars, in the end, he would be remembered for Waterloo.”
Uncle Rupert tucked Anton safely into bed before leaving.
“Bonsoir, Anton.”
Bonsoir, Oncle.”
“Bonsoir, le chat,” said Uncle Rupert as he checked on the attic door.
It was not long at all until both Anton and Nappy were asleep. Anton dreamed of the great French Army, while nappy dreamed of the tasty fish that Marcel the Pig was enjoying instead of him.
The Little Emperor
