Memoirs of a Feral Cat
10 Stepping on a branch, I approached the greedy little beast from behind. Easy does it , I warned myself. One paw in front of the other . I stopped at a perfect leaping distance. Looking back, this apple-eating varmint may have felt a tiny vibration on the branch. My feet placed into position, and with a crouched body, I was ready to make the final leap. The rodent spun around and looked straight into my eyes. It bellowed, spewing apple chunks all over me. My front half twisted sideways, and my back paw stepped back onto nothing. “Uh-oh.” My tail-end plunged downward, pulling the rest of my body off the tree. Whooshing down into the emptiness, my front paws scrabbled for something, anything. My eyes took in the fence and bushes on my way to the ground as air rushed into my ears. A branch missing my nose by a few whiskers passed by and my front claws fastened onto it, leaving my two hind legs flopping. “I hate that vermin,” I growled, looking around. The ground was close, allowing me to release the branch and land on all fours with dignity. Bits of apple clung to me like clumps of mud, saturating the air with its sickly odor. My tongue lashed at my fur, cleaning off the offensive substance. Nasty stuff. Only fit for rodents. While preening myself, an enticing aroma broke my concentration. My nose led me a few tail lengths from the tree to a small mound. A tongue test confirmed it was fish. Not fresh but edible. While chewing, I perused the grass looking for other morsels of food when a two-legger popped out of the bushes. I bolted behind the tree, my heart bouncing against my chest wall. Two-leggers, up close, were huge. This one was smallish, but still, it had a large round face and long legs. How did I miss its smell? Peering back around, it stared straight at me. What big eyes it had . It took a step in my direction. I didn’t know what it wanted, nor did I have any intention of sticking around to find out. To stay alive and enjoy my days as an independent feral feline meant not trusting a living being larger
Made with FlippingBook
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy NjM5ODQ=