Top Cat hung on the screen unlike a lizard on the wall, he glared like El Toro in the bull ring. I longed to be partnered up with my friend Kona. As much as that standard poodle drove me to distraction with her irritating doggie habits, she had proved to be a quick and cunning hunter. She hunted rabbits and her kills were many. Not smart enough to know the damage Top Cat was capable of inflicting on her pretty black nose,she would attack fearlessly. But she was not here tonight.
Top Cat’s razor nails pierced the only barrier between us as they flashed like knives gleaming in the moonlight. I had been crouched beneath the kitchen table waiting for hours, for weeks. My opponent was nothing to hiss at, but I knew things he did not. Growing up with no claws, I had to learn to fight with my wits and my teeth. And that was what I did.
I sprang against the door while he still hung on the screen. With his weight and now mine, the door lifted from its tracks and crashed onto the tiled patio pinning Top Cat beneath it. No time to check on Judy, I sprang to the edge, and waited for top Cat to escape the crushing weight of the door. Confused, he no longer focused on taking me down. The door became a large element he had never encountered and he was running scared. I attacked my foe in his race to escape. My teeth sank into his neck and his screech echoed in the night like the cry of a warrior when he realizes he’s going to die.
He twisted then onto his back, nails extended ready to fight to his death. I, too, twisted in anticipation of his defensive move. The scent of Top Cat’s fear triggered my brain to send adrenaline pulsing through my body. My ears lay flat and my tail pointed to the stars. The thrill of impending victory emerged from my throat in my own warrior’s call. Top Cat was going down. No survivors!!
My teeth still buried in his neck, I flung him, knowing the force could break his neck. He flew up the air and slammed to the tile floor. I panted as his still body lay limp, not moving. Every muscle primed I poised ready to pounce. His head lifted, he was dazed. He stood and turned his head in my direction. He did not make eye contact as I stared my eyes still fired with rage but now with victory as well.
He turned away and slinked toward the fence. Every muscle twitched wanting to go again, finish him off, but I kept my position. He would not be back. I had won the battle but I did not want to lose the war. He would carry the message to his wild cat comrades, “Sportster is a true warrior. Let him be.”
I went inside, back down the hall, and finished the night curled up with my mom.