Amber Croft A Cat of Nine Tales
Things started to disappear. It was weird, I mean, you get used to something being there and then it isn’t. First my favorite napping chair was gone . . . then the kitchen table, the couch and finally our cat tree. As items vanished they were replaced by boxes. Soon there was nothing left but boxes. They were everywhere, a cardboard labyrinth. I found it sort of amusing, but Bucks was freaking out.
“What’s going on?” he meowed. He always expects me to know what’s up and I usually do, but not this time.
“How should I know?” I told him. “I just live here.”
I didn’t see much of him after that. I suppose I should have kept an eye on him. Bucks doesn’t take well to change, but I didn’t think much about it. There were a lot of new places to hide in cardboard world and I was less than upset by his absence. It was kind of like missing an itch.
A few nights later I was having my nails done by Lou, the house-woman. “Leave them sharp, and not too short,” I told her. A cat never knows when she might need her claws. We were almost finished when her mate came in. His name is Willie.
“Bucky’s gone,” he said. “Can’t find him anywhere.”
“He’s probably hiding somewhere in the boxes.”
I hopped off her lap as she got up to search and made a graceful leap to the
window sill for a look outside.
There was a quarter moon and I have excellent night vision. I saw Bucks skulking around some bushes. God only knows what he thought he was doing, but stupid is as stupid does. Then a saw something that made my fur stand on end. The coyote!
Better known in the neighborhood as The Angel of Death, a serial killer that had claimed two victims that I knew of, maybe more. I still remember hearing the bone chilling screams of his last.