Memoirs of a Feral Cat

1 Chapter One My Earliest Memories Soft, sweet, and precious. That’s how I entered this world, a little fluffball, like the rest of my kind. I remembered a large, warm body lying against mine, its warmth comforting me, and tiny bodies intertwined on a hard floor. I could still detect hints of sour milk dripping off my lips. Remnants of a lullaby came to me at night before I nodded off: “Dream, sweetly of stars. Sway softly in clouds, And though your thoughts may be far, you’ll always hear my meows.” With that, the family pictures stopped. Now I am alone, hunting for my own meals. I am a feral feline molly. Or in different words, a cat of the female variety free to explore and find food. Unlike the domesties who are under the control of the two-leggers, I’m proud to be independent, roaming streets and scavenging fields for my daily catch while avoiding anything that looks at me with a hungry eye. Somewhere along the way I have learned to enjoy exploring, following strange scents and discovering new places. That’s how I met Big Tom. “I’m so glad I’m not one of those vermin who hole up underground,” I declared to the trees and anything else that would listen. The day’s heat made me purr, and a light breeze added a zing to my step. My fur fluffed up, exposing my skin to the warmth. Earlier, before the sun reached its highest point, I had caught a delicious lunch using my well-honed, hunting skills. I stalked it, keeping low behind bushes. It hovered over its own prey, a grasshopper. When the six-legger jumped in front of my bush, my prey swooped down with open beak. I pounced when it reached its lowest point just above the bug, my