Memoirs of a Feral Cat

19 two-leggers and Big Tom I was not afraid of a mere domestie. I growled. No, not growled, I roared. I was invincible. “Do you really think that you can chase me away? I don’t care if I get a scratch or two. But what will your two-leggers think if you’re missing half your fur? They won’t want you anymore.” She hesitated and backed up a few steps. Her arched back lowered a little and her scream reduced to a hiss. “Don’t come near me. I don’t want to catch any fleas or other scum infested in your scabby coat.” She backed away some more. “I will hurt you if you come back here.” “I don’t think so. Besides, how will your two-leggers like it if I force those ugly little ears to stand up straight?” “You pitiful animal. You have no idea how loyal humans are.” “You have no idea of freedom. Go home to your two-leggers, Bendy Ears. Let them treat you like a kitten.” “Don’t think I can’t roam. I will find you, no matter where you are. There’s no way you can hide that smelly body. Remember that, you … you flea-infested feral.” She turned tail and marched up the street, head held high. Domesties can’t go wherever they want, can they? They’re locked in to their two-leggers. There’s an invisible line that stops them from going too far, and they wouldn’t dare cross it. What would happen if they did? Would their minds turn to squished bugs? Maybe their legs would stop working. I know, an invisible vine would yank them back to their master’s side of the line. “Stupid domestie,” I muttered and retuned to sniffing about in the trailing plant. I tore apart the top layer and took in the aroma as it wafted up. “I know you’re in there, little mouse. Come out, come out wherever you are. You can’t hide forever.” My persistence paid off as I dug deeper and harder, coming up triumphant, my teeth latched on a rodent. An ear-splitting yelp startled me. I dropped my catch which scampered