The Cat Life (under reconstruction)

Hello, everyone!  I'm in a good mood, so I've made the chapter a little longer. (which isn't saying too much, as long for me is short for you, I'm sure...)

:P

Finally, sunshine!  The dreary, wet, and grey atmosphere has been giving me a depression.  ‘Bout time there was a shine!

The sun was right in the middle of the sky — afternoon.  And it’s been two days since my soy chicken fiasco, and only four bugs to eat.

And thanks to the pretty weather, people were now bustling up and down the street.  Time for some more begging (though I hate begging, I’d rather do that than starve).

I scanned the street from the alleyway, looking for a victim.  Ah!  There!  A little girl strolling from her chatting mother, with an uneaten hotdog in hand. 

I did the drill — fluffed up my fur, widened my eyes, and became the cutest, most pitiful kitten you’ve ever seen.  Once ready, I trotted out of the cool shadows and out into the open.  The sun felt good on my matted fur, and it wasn’t very hard to purr.

“Mommy!  Mommy!  Look at the kitty!” the little girl in pigtails squealed, pointing.

Yeah, yeah, just pet me and give me your food, girly.  Pet the pretty, irresistible kitty.  Come on, you know you want to.

She ran forward (please don’t yank the tail) and began petting my head so hard my legs nearly buckled.  Jesus, kid, you’d make heck of a wrestler.

“Kayla!” her mother shrieked, conversation with a fellow mother finally over.  “Don’t touch that thing.  Who knows where it’s been!”

The little girl made an ugly face at her mother; she wrapped her arms around my waist like a vice, and lifted me off the ground, my back legs stretched.

Ohhh.  I’m so going to have bruises.  Probably a broken rib…several broken ribs.

“Kayla!  Put that THING down, NOW!”  Her mother marched over and wrenched her daughter’s arms from around me.

Someone’s not a cat lover.  And it’s been real fun, really, but I’ve got to scat.

While the little girl burst into tears, I whirled around and ran (“Kitty, come back!  Kiitttyyy!”).

Then I saw it.

Oh, that is SO not good.

Printed in large letters across a white, square truck were the unmistakable words:

ANIMAL CONTROL

Crap.

Just what I need right now.

And the dude in the white ANIMAL CONTROL jacket turned his head and spotted me.  He pulled out a radio, and from here I could make out what he was saying.

“We’ve got a lone striped, possibly feral cat downtown between Right St. and Crosshair Ave.  Cat will be removed for public safety.”

Public safety?  I didn’t know I was a threat.  Awesome!

A woman came out of the passenger side of the white truck with a long pole clutched in her hand like a weapon.  It had a wire loop at the end of it.

I had seen that somewhere before…the memory danced away, just out of reach.

But even without knowing what it was, I knew they would try to use it on me, whatever it was.  My legs pumped faster; tail lashing the air in my hurry as I rushed along the side of a building.  Two sets of footsteps were in hot pursuit. 

This is going to be SO fun!

I knew this city like the back of my ear, and was coming up on an old apartment building, one of my various vacation homes.  This one had a pillow, because it smelled like something died in there, and other cats sometimes wandered in.  But it had comfortable tarps — and loads of places only a cat could fit.  I planned on taking the nice Animal Control folks for a walk.