There it is … the sparrow. It’s landed not far from where I am, the silly creature. Slowly I get into position. Each paw moving ever so cautiously. I’ve got my eye fixed on the bird and my breath is silent. I pounce … darn it got away.
To catch a bird, of course, means you must be particularly cautious when you move. My mother was always a great huntress. I remember when we were little, she’d leave us with Aunt Selma and go off for a few hours. When she came back we always feasted on her prey. Sometimes it might have been a rat at others a bird. She and Aunt Selma took turns hunting and when we were old enough they taught us all we know.
Of course, we don’t always have to hunt. Here in our colony, in a place I’ve heard humans call the Roman Forum, there are the lovely ladies that bring us food and sometimes milk. They’re called “cat women” though of course they have nothing of us in their veins.
I spy a rat lurking among the stones. I crouch in position. Moving very slowly keeping my eye on the creature, my tail shivers of its own accord, then I pounce. Got it! I’m finished hunting for the day, it’s time I return to our lair where the little ones are awaiting their dinner.
To find the prompt go to Mindlovesmisery’s Menagerie