Scorpio
03-11-2010, 07:25 AM
Chapter 2 : Betrayal.
At a mere 10 years old, Big Boy should have been in his prime. Any other tom cat with the same missing parts would have had an easy life so far. But the tough kittenhood and a lifetime of turf wars had taken their toll, and Big Boy was starting to look, and feel, like an old cat.
His skull, ears, neck and shoulders were dotted with scars, and grey hairs were appearing here and there. A veteran despite his age, He was finding the opposition tougher, and the birds faster, than they used to be.
Now that some of the man-kittens had moved out and found a place of their own, our hero was actually thinking about retirement and taking it easy.
As often happened in the summer, his ungrateful Family vanished for a couple of weeks, leaving him at the mercy of the cat-sitter. Big Boy was always disturbed by these absences, and generally refused to talk to the Bearded One for weeks afterwards. Once, out of revenge, and with typical logic, he decided to show the Big Ones just how much food a scorned cat could eat in two weeks. By convincing the neighbour that he had been abandoned, he managed to get fed both places every day, and by the time the Family got home he could hardly stuff himself through his cat door.
The ballooning effect, when viewed from behind, caused the Family much amusement.
This year, when the Family returned from their trip, unloading camping gear and expecting Big Boy to make a fuss of them, he ignored them as usual, strolled into the house and hid.
But something was horribly different this time. As the Big Ones unloaded the car and dumped everything in the living-room, a cat-carrier was amongst the baggage. The Bearded One opened it and produced - a kitten!
Big Boy was being replaced and he wasn’t even dead yet! Now this was too much!
The tiny ball of fluff opened its mouth as if to miaou, but no sound came out. Big Boy had met kittens before and knew they were terrified of grown-up cats. All he had to do was walk towards it, and it would hightail it under the sofa before you could say ”mouse”. To his surprise, he got almost nose-to-nose with the thing before it did anything at all. then instead of running away, it hissed at him. This total lack of respect from the newcomer was downright unacceptable, and Big Boy gave it a quick whap with a loose paw.
This should have been enough to make his point, but the delinquent seemed to be totally unaware of one of the cardinal rules of healthy kittenhood: if something looking like a Sherman tank in black fur approaches you with unfriendly intentions, it is not a good idea to provoke him.
Standard tactics are, as everyone knows: 1. Act submissive. 2. Run. It takes a creative cat indeed to interpret these rules as: stand up on the flat of your back legs like a kangaroo and box . But that is exactly what it did, and before Big Boy could teach it a lesson it would never forget, the Big Ones rushed to pick it up and made a fuss over the little brat as though it had done something wonderful.
Over the next few weeks, a running battle ensued, which resulted in Big Boy’s big pink nose being criss-crossed with kitten scratches, and his attempts to make hamburger out of the creature were invariably foiled by its sheer speed. The whole Family, of course, were completely taken in by its pin-up looks and designer fur (never underestimate the Cute Factor), and the name Sweety Claws was born.
Eventually, while it was concentrating on feeding one day, he did get close enough to find out it was a girl, and decided it would be unsporting to kill it. Nevertheless, an ambition had risen to the top of Big Boy’s priority list. Before getting himself locked in a cat-food factory, even before establishing world feline domination, he would teach this little monster some manners!
At a mere 10 years old, Big Boy should have been in his prime. Any other tom cat with the same missing parts would have had an easy life so far. But the tough kittenhood and a lifetime of turf wars had taken their toll, and Big Boy was starting to look, and feel, like an old cat.
His skull, ears, neck and shoulders were dotted with scars, and grey hairs were appearing here and there. A veteran despite his age, He was finding the opposition tougher, and the birds faster, than they used to be.
Now that some of the man-kittens had moved out and found a place of their own, our hero was actually thinking about retirement and taking it easy.
As often happened in the summer, his ungrateful Family vanished for a couple of weeks, leaving him at the mercy of the cat-sitter. Big Boy was always disturbed by these absences, and generally refused to talk to the Bearded One for weeks afterwards. Once, out of revenge, and with typical logic, he decided to show the Big Ones just how much food a scorned cat could eat in two weeks. By convincing the neighbour that he had been abandoned, he managed to get fed both places every day, and by the time the Family got home he could hardly stuff himself through his cat door.
The ballooning effect, when viewed from behind, caused the Family much amusement.
This year, when the Family returned from their trip, unloading camping gear and expecting Big Boy to make a fuss of them, he ignored them as usual, strolled into the house and hid.
But something was horribly different this time. As the Big Ones unloaded the car and dumped everything in the living-room, a cat-carrier was amongst the baggage. The Bearded One opened it and produced - a kitten!
Big Boy was being replaced and he wasn’t even dead yet! Now this was too much!
The tiny ball of fluff opened its mouth as if to miaou, but no sound came out. Big Boy had met kittens before and knew they were terrified of grown-up cats. All he had to do was walk towards it, and it would hightail it under the sofa before you could say ”mouse”. To his surprise, he got almost nose-to-nose with the thing before it did anything at all. then instead of running away, it hissed at him. This total lack of respect from the newcomer was downright unacceptable, and Big Boy gave it a quick whap with a loose paw.
This should have been enough to make his point, but the delinquent seemed to be totally unaware of one of the cardinal rules of healthy kittenhood: if something looking like a Sherman tank in black fur approaches you with unfriendly intentions, it is not a good idea to provoke him.
Standard tactics are, as everyone knows: 1. Act submissive. 2. Run. It takes a creative cat indeed to interpret these rules as: stand up on the flat of your back legs like a kangaroo and box . But that is exactly what it did, and before Big Boy could teach it a lesson it would never forget, the Big Ones rushed to pick it up and made a fuss over the little brat as though it had done something wonderful.
Over the next few weeks, a running battle ensued, which resulted in Big Boy’s big pink nose being criss-crossed with kitten scratches, and his attempts to make hamburger out of the creature were invariably foiled by its sheer speed. The whole Family, of course, were completely taken in by its pin-up looks and designer fur (never underestimate the Cute Factor), and the name Sweety Claws was born.
Eventually, while it was concentrating on feeding one day, he did get close enough to find out it was a girl, and decided it would be unsporting to kill it. Nevertheless, an ambition had risen to the top of Big Boy’s priority list. Before getting himself locked in a cat-food factory, even before establishing world feline domination, he would teach this little monster some manners!