Initially I thought she was a sleek little innocent. Long-legged, with a lyrical voice brimming with feline grace. Her purr is subtle and hidden – an elusive message: half heard, half understood.
She sleeps on the seat of my landlord's motorcycle.
When I see her, she will pause, wondering if I'm worth the effort of jumping off her vehicular bed. Inevitably, though, she will. She will then walk past me. She will approach the patch of grass growing between our apartments, nuzzling one or two particularly favored and juicy blades. She will stretch. Then she will fall on her side, and then – only then – will I be allowed to pet her.
I understand these rules…and I thought I understood her.
A few evenings ago, I heard one or two sharp screeches/growls – and then silence. The next morning I checked and found an object which I recognized immediately. I recognized the long, stringy tail. I recognized the gray fur. I recognized the tiny claws curled beneath the inanimate haunches. And that's all I recognized, because the front half of the mouse had been quite chewed away.
The cat had – smugly, no doubt – hidden herself away, but I had to remark, "You little savage, what have you done?"
Now, last night, I heard that screaming once more: prolonged and angry, as if a true war was being waged.
This morning I checked the battle ground once more and found…scattered feathers. But there was no body. So in a court of law, she could not be prosecuted for murder. A body would have to be produced, no matter what circumstantial evidence CSI Aubrey finds…right?
I said in despair, "Did you do this? Kitty, how could you? How could you?"
Yet I have a feeling she might have lost this fight. She seemed a little subdued.
On both nights, the strikes occurred at around 10:30PM. That's in less than 1 1/2 hours. I am full of fear. There is a killer in our midst.