Natural Killers

The tiring sun rested halfway above the rippling river as though it were being dissolved by a clear, unimpeded blue sky. The tops of the worn out scrap wood fence hosted a striking, yet fading orange light, concealing deep cracks overcome by the weariness of old age.

The river began to resemble sparkling champagne.

As I sat there, out on the porch with the cat on my lap, a cooling, unmerciless breeze gripped and penetrated my skin, goosebumps rose from my arms as my jaws let out a mild shiver.

After a hard day, this is the only place we turn to in search of solice, so we can lick our wounds undisturbed. She sips her milk while I relax with a warm beer. We just love to sit here, letting the wind blow our hair this way and that. She peers up at me from the clasps of her paws, points her
ears back behind her head then closes her eyes tightly and I reward her with the same affectionate glance. I could tell what she was thinking. She could smell the freshly baked fish granny had just put on the table. I was going to eat most of it, and she was going to devour the scraps I give her. After supper, I began putting the leftover bits of bread in a bag for granny to feed to the birds. She began to bump her head up against my arm, back and fourth. I could tell what she was thinking, She was going to hide under the fence behind granny, waiting for an unsuspecting bird to take the bait. Every morning was the same watching from the window. Poor granny goes out to feed the starving birds, while the cat stays just out of her sight. As the bird moves in for the bait, she'll pounce and make her kill whilst granny unbeknowingly carries on strewing the bread about. When she returns, she'll find a line of dead birds on the the porch and say, "that darn cat, how does it manage to kill so many birds in one mornin'."


© 2007 Juliet Forshaw