Memoirs of a Feral Cat

8 “I had your kittens,” I snarled between my teeth. “I’m not surprised. Many a lucky molly has become a mother thanks to me. You could be lucky again.” His eyes sparkled. “Are you ready?” “They died because of you.” Big Tom was much closer, and, in spite of my rage, his allure was overpowering me. “Molly, molly. How could I be responsible? I never even saw them.” “Of course you didn’t. You abandoned us when you should have stayed and helped.” “But that’s not what we toms─” I hissed in the direction of the coyote. Big Tom turned to see the howler closing in behind him and darted for the closest tree. His spell over me broke, clearing the air. My throat clenched at the coyote’s pong which now dominated Big Tom’s scent. I dived under the berry bushes and curled my body into a tight ball. There was no singing, this time, just discord, barking and howling.