Housecats are not always the hunters. Here's how one small tabby eludes capture. |
Emerh hunched deep beneath the prickly juniper bush. Her orange tail twitched slightly at the tip. The large, pale beast had nearly gotten her. It hovered near, she knew, waiting to grab her if she ventured from her hiding place. Her ears flicked back and forth to catch the smallest sound. “Kitty?” Called Amanda. “Come on, kitty, I won’t hurt you.” The six year old body bent low, trying to see under the bush. She thought she saw a bit of orange and bent down lower until she was on all fours for a better look. “Kitty?” Patience, patience, Emerh reminded herself. It is close, but it can not reach. If I leap out now, it could catch me. I must wait. Even her tail now ceased to twitch. Her heartbeat grew quicker still while her muscles tensed, but she remained otherwise motionless. “Kitty? Oh, there you are!” Amanda lunged forward, eager hands springing forward to grasp at soft fur. No! Emerh sprinted for freedom away from the horrible, pale, furless paws. Amanda sprawled across the dirt. Her favorite cuddle had gotten away again. And now she was all dirty, too. She cried as she picked herself up and went back into the house. Emerh came to a tall wooden fence and made the great leap to the top and then to the other side. She had escaped the suffocating clutches of the young Tall One once more. |