A small, slender cat,—A 8 moons old blue-ish gray she-cat with A black line down her back and enveloping her tail, A pale blue collar 'round her neck, a tag denoting her name, 'Pichi', dangling and jingling below her chin—crawled panting out of a trash bin, Her owners had placed her there after she had been accused of urinating on the floor, which, of course, the Dog had done. She painfully took a few steps, before sitting down, and gently sniffing herself, immediately recoiling at the trash-scent that coated her pelt and collar. She groaned, frustrated, then walked over to the fence that surrounded her garden. She leaped up, taking a few moments to gain balance, before sitting and staring off into the woods. What a terrible place to live, she thought, staring at the green shapes shifting and moving in the wind, the scents of the forest wafting into her scent-glands. The smell of wild creatures of all sorts, the smell of grass and wood, the distant stale scent of roaring monsters. Utterly repulsive. she thought, How could anyone bear living there? Why dont they come and live among two-legs?, before reflecting on her own experience.
Just this morning, she had been starved, her bowl left empty until long after mid-day. She had been accused of urinating on the floor, when it was truly the dog. Perhaps these two-legs arent so great, but surely there's better, and even these are probably better than living in the wild . . Hunting . . Cold . . Starving . . Smelly . . She recoiled as she imagined the awful scents, her saliva catching in her throat at the disgust of the imagination of the awful, terrible scents. She'll take her awful two-legs over that any day.
Several sunrise's later, Pichi was sleeping soundly on her soft plush bed, having finally been let in after 3 long sunrise's of living in the backyard, not allowed back inside. She was suddenly roused by a shouting, causing her to leap to her feet, fur bristling and puffing up in shock and terror. She looked up toward the noise, to find her two-legs screaming in rage, pointing at her, then toward the couch. She turned her head, to find the couch shredded, plush and leather scattered around the room, Clearly the sloppy work of a dog, she thought, then sat down, before looking back up at the two-legs, who didnt seem to share this insight, continuing to point and holler at her. She's frightened as suddenly, she feels a sharp pang of blunt painful force against her side, forcing wind out from her lungs, as her head snapped to the side to see the hard brown foot of the two-leg, kicking her in the side. She was flung limply across the room, slamming hard into the cold wall, dizzying her, breath refusing to enter her lungs for several long moments, unaware of the events around her, only minorly aware of the feeling of being lifted and carried, followed by the roar of the monster. When she regained her senses, she found herself stuck inside of the carrier her two-legs used to take her to the horrible man who drugged her and fed her awful-tasting pills and goops. Her fur bristled and spiked, NO! no, no, NO, NO!, she begins to claw and smack at the thin bars keeping her contained in the small box, trying to get out with all her might.
To her delight, the bars swung open with a sharp high-pitched whine, and leaped out, claws catching on the fabric surface, before she quickly sprung forward to where the two-leg sat, clawing and smacking them. She soon found herself confused and disoriented, as she feels the motion of the monster shift and change, before she was slammed hard into what was once the ceiling above, then flung back down, then toward the side, losing consciousness.
Pichi woke, stirring gently, trying to rise to her feet, to find her neck snagged on something. She pulled harder, and with a snap, the thing came loose, her collar sliding off her neck like a twirling snake. She regained her bearings for a moment, then looked upward, to find the two-legs sprawled out above her, cold. Its lower-half crushed and smushed, trapping it there. A gentle stream of crimson water ran down its torso, soaking its removable pelt and staining it red, before trailing down to its neck, chin, all the way down its face, then finally, gently dripping down onto the clear floor, pooling. She looked at herself, finding herself to be covered in splotches of the crimson liquid, taking a small smell of it, she scents it to be blood. Her fur bristles in horror, and she quickly leaps away from the crimson liquid, and out of the monster through the opening in the front. She landed on cold, damp grass, shocking her paws, but she sat and calmed herself, before turning, and taking a slow lick of the crimson blood. It was metallic and bitter, with a slight hint of sweetness that lingered after she swallowed it, not pleasant, but she certainly wasnt going to leave this disgusting liquid on her pelt. She sat and licked it off from her soft fur for several long moments, gagging slightly from the taste of the blood. She found her own scrambled nicks and cuts and bruises under the two-leg blood, disgusted at the starkly different taste of her far more bitter blood. After she was clean, she stood, and looked around, before hearing wailing cries from the distance down the dark gray path to the side, where the monster she was just in was before ending up on its side, dead. She was frightened by this, Oh lords, are they coming to punish me? Did i do this? . . i'm not staying to find out. and she turned to the dark forest to her side, sprinting off full-force, disappearing into the smelly green lands she dreaded entering for so long.