A Furrever Home *My story about kitties*
I'm writing a story about a cats quest for a furrever home. This is what I have so far, tell me what you think!!!
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A Furever Home
Jake opened his eyes cautiously, bracing himself for the cold winter chill. His vision blurry, he tried to focus on something, anything that would give him a clue as to where he was. His thoughts were a tangle of confusion but through it all, he wondered, “Why am I here?”
He noticed his head felt damp and looked up to see a flurry of snow tumbling down upon him. He shook, trying to remove the cold, but the snowfall was unrelenting. He sat down, wrapping his now drenched tail around him, trying to get a little warmer. It hadn’t been too long ago that he was warm, cuddled up next to his mother, his brothers and his sisters.
“Momma, what happened to you? Where are you?” He meowed as a tear mingled with the snow on his face. His last memory was being thrown violently in a box and then the darkness. He couldn’t see anything but he could hear his siblings crying for their mother. He cried for his mother too, but even his cries went unanswered. The box moved for what seemed like days. Jake remembered being very hungry and cried for his mother even more. His siblings must have been hungry too, for when his cries became more desperate, the others followed.
Suddenly, the movement seemed to stop and Jake was hopeful that his mother would be waiting for them as soon as the box was opened. The box was never opened.
He woke up in a trashcan. His head hurt terribly but he could move and crawled out into the cold winter night. There was no sign of his siblings anywhere around and the box was lying in a puddle. He went over to it, praying that he would find his siblings or his mother, but he discovered that he was very much alone. He sat down again, desperately hungry and terribly afraid.
“Hey! Hey, you there!” a gruff meow came from the shadows.
Jake ran and huddled under the trashcan, “What do you want?”
“Calm down, small fry, I just want to help you.” A large orange tabby came into view. He walked with a slight limp and was missing one eye. The scars on his face showed that he had been in many fights.
“Who are you,” Jake asked, trembling still.
“My friends call me Tom,” the big cat said softly, limping closer, “What’s your name?”
Jake slowly inched his way out of hiding, “My momma called me Jake”
“Nice to meet you, Jake,” Tom wrapped his fluffy tail around Jake, “You know where your momma is? You seem too young to be out in this weather.”
“No,” Jake sighed and recounted his tale about the box and waking up in the trash.
Tom growled low, “Those damned hoomans. They think we are disposable.”
