Once upon a time, there was a pleasant small village in the centre of verdant hills and winding rivers. There lived an old miller named Thomas and his loyal cat, Puss. They were not very smart. The windmill made a whiny noise in the wind, and the smell of fresh bread, wood smoke, and lavender from the fields next door always filled the house. The miller didn’t have a lot of money, but he had everything he needed: a nice fire, a good heart, and a very smart cat to keep him company.
Not just any cat was Puss. He was brilliant, curious, and liked to watch other people with eyes that seemed to know everything. Once in a while, people in the village would joke that Puss had been a person previously and that a magic had turned him into a cat. The miller would laugh and say, “He just has an old soul.”
Jack, the miller’s son, came back from the city to look for him when he grew sick. Jack was pleasant, smart, and worked hard, but he didn’t know what his place in the world was yet. Thomas died peacefully one autumn morning, leaving Jack with just three things: his mill, a piece of land and Puss.
Jack was thankful for what little he had, but he was worried. The windmill was old and slow, and the area didn’t have much food for them. Just like his dad did, Jack still shared his meals with Puss. And Puss, who could feel Jack’s kind heart, promised to help him in return without saying anything.
One morning, while Jack worked in the garden, Puss walked over to the riverbank and found something shiny in the reeds: a pair of tall, polished leather boots with buckles that shone in the sun. Puss sniffed them, pawed them, and then ran back to the cottage.
“Jack!” he meowed, pushing the boots closer to him. “You have to see these!”
Jack laughed. “Now you want me to wear boots?” We don’t have much bread, and you want fashion?
“No,” Puss answered as he sat down and swished his tail. “You’re going to wear them, and you’ll become someone important.”
Jack blinked. “You… you can talk?”
Puss turned his head. “Of course I can.” You just didn’t need me previously.
Jack gazed for a moment, then burst out laughing. “I must be dreaming.”
Puss said, “Not dreaming.” “Just lucky.” Hey, Jack. Put these boots on and do what I say. I’m going to turn you become the Marquis of Carabas.
Jack lifted an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”
Puss smiled and added, “It means your life is about to change.”
Jack put on the boots, not knowing if he was crazy or bewitched. They fit him like they were intended for him. He felt a little braver and stood a little taller. Puss fetched him an old cloak and brushed his hair until it looked nearly royal.
Puss led Jack down the road to the city with a knowing flip of his tail.
Puss ran ahead of them as they walked and caught wild animals including rabbits, partridges, and quail. He put them in a basket and walked straight to the castle gates.
The royal guards stopped him, surprised to see a cat standing erect and wearing a feathered cap.
Puss said, “I have gifts for His Majesty.” “From the noble Marquis of Carabas.”
The monarch called Puss inside because he was interested in the odd message and the good game. Puss bowed deeply and talked so beautifully that the king believed everything he said.
The king exclaimed, “What a kind marquis.” “We have to ask him to come to the palace.”
Jack, on the other hand, was nervously waiting outside the city. Jack almost passed out when Puss came back and said the king wanted to see him.
“What if they find out I’m just the son of a miller?”
“They won’t,” Puss replied with confidence. “Because you’re not just the son of a miller anymore. You have a kind heart, are humble, and are the best buddy a boy could have.
Jack smiled. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.
The monarch threw a big party that night, and Jack sat next to the princess, a sweet girl named Eliza, and the royal advisor. She had gentle eyes, a quick wit, and wasn’t interested in superficial princes who came to impress her.
Jack, on the other hand, was different. He paid attention while she talked, smiled at her jokes, and asked good questions. Eliza was pleased.
As time went on, people in the kingdom spoke a lot about the strange marquis who had gained the princess’s smile. But not everyone was happy.
Lord Blackthorn, a selfish lord, became envious. “Who is this so-called marquis?” he asked. “He has no estate, no title, and no name I know.”
Puss knew they had to move quickly. “Jack,” he said, “it’s time for the last part of our plan.”
A dark castle stood on a hill that was hard to see from the settlement. It was owned by a horrible ogre, an elderly beast with magic in his veins and a vicious heart. The meadows around the castle were empty, and the peasants who lived close were too scared to say his name.
Puss left on his own, with his boots sparkling and his heart firm.
He knocked loudly as he got to the castle. The ogre laughed and allowed him in.
Puss responded, “I’ve heard that you can change into anything,” and bowed low. A dragon, an eagle, and a lion.
“Yes,” the ogre roared, puffing with pride.
“But not something so small,” Puss remarked with a cheeky smile. “Like a mouse?”
The ogre laughed. “Of course I can!”
He turned into a mouse with a flash of light.
Puss jumped as fast as a blink.
When Jack got there with the king and princess in a royal carriage, the ogre’s dismal realms had changed. The fields were golden, the skies were blue, and the castle gates were open.
Puss said, “All of this belongs to the Marquis of Carabas.”
The king couldn’t believe it. “You are braver than I thought.”
Eliza clasped Jack’s hand and said, “And more real than anyone I’ve ever met.”
The king soon proclaimed their engagement, and the whole kingdom celebrated for three days and nights. Jack, who was now the Marquis of Carabas, didn’t forget where he came from. He asked the villagers to come live and work on the property, made the castle a home full of music and laughter, and constructed a library and school so that everyone might study and grow.
Of course, Puss became the royal counsellor, but he liked to lounge in the sun in the garden and chase butterflies when he felt like it. People all across the world heard his stories and polished his boots every week.
Jack always called him “Puss,” though. He was his companion, his mentor, and the smart cat that believed in him before anybody else did.
The miller’s son and the talking cat who wore boots lived happily ever after in a castle that wasn’t full of gold and jewels, but of love, loyalty, and the kind of magic that comes from being loyal and loving.
It’s over.
