Of Hostile Hairies and Hostages

I draw back reproachfully as the disgusting-smelling stuff clinks against the porcelain. Blegh! It nearly causes a hairball just looking at it! They expect me to eat this crap?

Well, no matter. I still have my teeth and claws. I am driven into a frenzy, darting through unsuspecting pairs of legs, jumping, leaping, cannoning through the house. The stairs are but child’s play to my agile paws, passing by in a blur.

Ah, yes. The child’s room…let’s see what they feed me after they learn their precious is a hostage! Heavier footsteps pound up the stairs as the Large Ones see me slip into the room. Apparently, I’ve pulled this one too many times before. Ah, well. It may yet work.

I see the usual look of fear on the first Large One’s face disappear as it sees me with a claw outstretched to the sleeping babe’s neck. The male comes in. I sigh. Just as it always is.

He picks me up by the armpits and sets me back in the laundry room. I mutter dejectedly and munch on my Kitty Kibble.

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