Hello, I'm Felice. Humans call me a feral cat, and they don't mean it as a compiment, either. I both resent that and don't appreciate why they don't appreciate the pride and honor of being able to fend for myself. I and the other alley cats (humans call us that only because they chase us there from the open streets) are successful surviving in the wild, right in the middle of what humans think is the ultimate in civilization—meaning the city. I feast well, I'll have you know, on some very large rats that run around here, and the domestic cats don't mess with us.
Several of us have been caught and taken away somewhere, but I and some other hardy felines have used our skills as wild animals to elude capture. We are both wild and street smart—take that, humans! I love showing no humility, especially to humans, and I know that my eyes declare that well.
There is one domestic cat I do respect and even admire. His name is Comet, and though I've never been able to entice him when I'm in heat, he just doesn't have that self absorbed wimpyness of most domestic cats. This guy really hunts—he even beat me to big a fat rat once, and put up a respectable fight to keep it from me too. I rarely see Comet, because he lives in the country woods and doesn't have a way to get deep into the city where my territory is.
It's kind of strange how I met Comet. He was slithering around my territory one day with this strange rat-looking creature that he seemed to know. Seeing a new cat in my territory, I had to challenge him. He stood his ground, back arched and tail fuzzed. His growl was ferocious, like he knew what a fight is and was ready to engage. I was ready to proceed to tear him to shreads when that rat creature came up to his side and hissed at me. The rat creature had formidable teeth, including small tusks; and its stance resembled that of a pig.
What are you animals, a pack of dogs, that run together? The rat creature told me to stand down my challenge and then we could talk peaceably, especially as I was sure to lose trying to fight the both of them together. Not being stuipid, I agreed, and they stood down too.
I looked them both up and down. So you're not from here? Outside of town near the end of the bus service range; and that's how you got into town. They didn't throw you off the bus because you pretend to be someone's domestic pets. Oh, Comet is his name, and he almost got you thrown off the bus because he didn't want to play the human pet pretend game—well at least that's a decent catly attitude. And your name is Penelope, and you're a what?! A pellar rat. Part pig. No wonder you're so strange. Some woman made you?! You expect me to believe that? You do; you're serious! You want me to join you? That would make us like a pack of dogs—anathema!
There was something about Penelope that made me trust her. She seemed to be a straight talker, and that impressed me. Too bad, Penelope, you would make a fine cat. All right, your not being a cat is one of the keys to Comet's accepting of you; I can go with that too. Follow you onto the bus?! One of the humans might recognize me as a feral cat, and that would be risky.
Penelope turned her head, as if adjusting her collar. Okay, alternative plan; what alternative plan? We go just a few blocks behind some dumpsters, and wait to meet a woman. Oh, no you don't—no humans in this plan for me! She's not a human? Get outta here! You really are serious.
Comet turned to follow Penelope, and glanced back at me with a look that said I could trust her. You don't look like the trusting type, Comet, so perhaps it is okay to trust Penelope. Besides, they are in my territory and I know more about this area than the both of them put together. All right, here we go; I started out after them.
We positioned ourselves beneath a certain set of dumpsters behind an obscure building. From our vantage point we could see birds flying about and perching on the street lights across the street, and an occasional car or human passing by. We heard hominid footsteps behind the dumpsters and then a pair of feet standing directly in front of us. Penelope moved forward without the caution she'd displayed when I first saw her. Comet followed her out from under the dumpster.
You're waiting for me? I crept toward the edge of the dumpster, poised to retreat back into its cover at the first sign of trouble. Come out, this is the woman? Hmmm, I don't like this; it's not the way I've eluded the animal hunting humans all this time. Come out, you insist. You're getting pushy for a rodent, even if you are part pig.
Come out. This time it was the woman speaking to me. And I understood her completely—what's up with that?! There seemed to be neither malace nor deception about her. This might be my fatal mistake, but here we go! I poked my head out from under the dumpster to get a good look at this woman. She was black as the night, and noticably different than the darker skinned humans I'd seen. This is Kaggla; Penelope showed total trust as she leapt into Kaggla's arms and let her cuddle her.
Kaggla placed Penelope back onto the ground, and then reached out inviting me to do the same thing. Without a second thought, I leapt into her arms just as Penelope had done—have I lost my mind? I felt comfortable and secure in Kaggla's arms, and offered no resistance when she put a collar on me. A collar on me! I had sworn never to allow that, but there I was feeling very natural with it. The whole thing was uncanny! Kaggla said that I could now understand what humans said to each other and to animals. Why ever would I care to do that?
Penelope pointed out that I now looked like I was someone's pet but was still just as wild and free as ever—the best of both worlds, she insisted. I thought for a moment. You are right, oh porcine rodent. I shall experiment to find the best use for my new abilities. In the meantime, you're welcome to visit me in my territory anytime—just don't raid my prey.
We parted and went our separate ways, for the time being.
