The Colony Cats

the colony cats

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Hunger

Sam stopped running; he leaned closer to the corner, at the base of the empty can; his heart racing hard. He thought the empty box must be big enough to conceal him from the taker. He had to make certain the the taker had its back turned before he continued to run. He cannot allow it to follow him back to the tree. 

Sam felt an itching in his tail; he looked behind and brushed the fur with his paw and found a slight burn. It must have been that hissing rod the taker touches the animals with. He peeked from the box again expecting to see the dirty grey skin of the taker but nothing was there. He felt better now; it was time to change his hiding place and allow time for the taker to go away. He winced and shifted back on his hind toes when he heard some chatter a few meters away. He thought for moment about making a dash into the forest, and heading straight for the farm. The chatter moved away, fading into the night.

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Sam snaked his way between the patio furniture and flower pots, past the recycle bins, toward the waste containers. He moved around the trash can, looking for a way to lay it down and sniff for any food he might find inside. Sam rubbed against the side or the can with his hip, and then gave it a shove. The can teetered on its edge and tipped into the shrubbery, sliding down and landing cleanly between the gardeners work boots and the ugly garden gnome Mr. Thompson 'rescued' in Germany. The same gnome Mrs. Thompson chose to display by the garbage cans. In the entire movement, not a single sound was made. "Cat perfect.", whispered Sam.

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Sam crept through the dimly lit shadows cast by the Colony streetlights until he until finally reached the large oak tree in front of the house of his friend. He could hear some distant laughter, and the sounds of a television. After some deliberation, Sam came out of hiding in the shadow of the oak tree and slipped between the boards of the picket fence nearby. Sam twisted through the flowers and ornamental grasses of the landscaping which led to a screened porch. As he crept closer to the screen he heard a low hiss, followed by the cooing voice of a black cat with short hair and a silvery undercoat that made shimmering waves through the cat's black coat each time she moved.

"Brother?" she purred

"No, Charlie. It's Sam"

 
 

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