A different perspective

Kylie

The kitten is shaking in my arms. I hug her closer but she shakes harder. Her black fur is shedding all over my jean jacket.

"Kylie, when we get home, put the cat in the cellar." The cellar is a room in the basement where the other cats live.

"But, Dad!" He cuts me off. I knew better than to argue with him. But at the same time, I didn't want this little kitten to go to the cellar. It's to dark and cold for a kitten.

"The man said that the barn cats help with mice, and the mice steal the corn from our barn, so no buts."

"But he said that she's too young to eat anything but milk!"

"Then she'd better grow up fast!" I knew there was no arguing with him. The kitten seemed to be calming down a little bit, but she was still shaking.

.................

By the time we got home, about an hour later, the kitten had stopped shaking. I decided to call her Molly, because that's what the farmer said her name was. I knew dad wouldn't name her himself.

The car stopped and Molly jumped. I petted her but she had started shaking again.

"Now do what I told you!" I ran inside, not wanting to look at him. I passed my older brother Tommy on the way inside. He smirked at me and said, "I see you've got the new fur ball!" I keep running. I slam the basement door behind me.

I hear several squeaks and meows as the basements inhabitants scurry out of sight. There is a mouse trap set on the top of the stairs. I give a sign of relief when I see that none have been caught today.

I put Molly down next to me and she presses against me. At least she trusts me.

Hesitantly I move my finger towards the trap and flinch when it hits my finger. I shutter, thinking of the damage it could inflict on a cats paw, or how easily it could snap the back of a mouse. Better a little pain in my finger than death to someone else. Well, a lot of pain in my finger.

It still hurts as I carry Molly further down the stairs. We have a very big basement. The mice live on the right of the stairs. I can see the little line that they draw to claim their land. The cats don't exactly respect that line, but I do. I'm glad that my family and the workers don't know everything about the basement that I do.

To the left is a long hallway of boxes and old furniture. The cats live over their. There are plenty of good hiding places in between the dusty chairs and the old abandoned tables. The only way you can see is because of the light peaking in through the moldy windows. Even then, the viewing distance is only a few meters because of all the dust in the air. The cellar is at the very end of this maze.

It is a small room with no light. It is where dad keeps his extra knifes and weapons. I don't want to put Molly in there. She would never survive. Dad would forget about her. I put her down on the ground. She sneezed.

"Don't worry, there's another cat in here who might be willing to help you." She shivers. She can't understand me. I turn and leave the basement behind me.