STRAY ANIMAL
Prompt - Stray Animal : Think of the life of a stray cat or dog and write about that.
Pip. Scruff. Biscuit. Cat. If I need food, and you're offering, you can call me any damn name you like (except Moggy - I hate Moggy). I'm up for mutually beneficial exchanges. You feed me, maybe give me a little shelter from the elements for a bit, and you get to stroke me, feel my softness, hear me purr. We both part happy.
None of that for days. Just rain and more rain, three days on end. I managed to scavenge a few bits and pieces from around the bins. Found the scant leftovers of a pigeon a fox had feasted on. Caught a mouse last night. Sheltered where I could, shared the outlet grid form a basement kitchen with a guy as homeless as me. I was a famished feline, a tousled tom, a pissed off pussy.
But now the sun's out and the good life has returned. And how. Spruced up, slinking along, surveying the sights. And smells. One in particular grabs my olfactory attention. I know that scent, I'm on my way. Up one fence and over, climb a tree to drop down a high wall, keep to the shrubbery, swift and steady. I need to get there first, check out the scenario, weigh up my chances.
And there it is. Open window, today's bonus ball on the sill, steam still rising, fragrance on the breeze. It has my name(s) on it. No humans show themselves through my senses. I flatten myself to the grass, stalk across the lawn, hit the path and... jump. And grab, teeth deep into my still-warm prey, and drop back to the path below. With a squelchy thud. Bugger me, this thing's heavy. But worth it, worth every spark of energy it takes to carry it away at something near to a run, to get into the bushes and find a spot, get the breath back, take stock of threats and protection. Have a few mouthfuls to restore my strength. I'm too close to the scene of the crime, but there's no way to get this lump over the fence. So it's riskier route, close to the border, keep to cover until there's only the driveway. Do I wait for some cover, or risk the open? There's a shout behind, more of a scream really. The theft has been discovered. Time to take risks. Get a good grip, hoist and jogtrot. it's hard squeezing my prize through the bars of the gate, but I am empowered by the knowledge that success will recoup my losses of the damp days now done. So I skulk along, under cars, short sprints between, until I see the alley, slip in, head for the wooded edge of the park. And settle. Eat. Still wary, senses keen, ears up, poised for action. It's been worth it, I have emerged triumphant. It's not every day a cat gets a whole roast chicken to himself.
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