Well, my muzzle is chattering away. Just like those tigers you see staring at gazelles or whatever they stare at. Meat, in short.
Those of you who are fascinated (of course) by us predatory animals are looking right now at a photo of me in the capucines—nasturtiums, in English) I, who am a cousin of an uncle of a brother of many other cousins of THE King of the Forest—yes, indeed, that guy that who roars on that movie screen, the MGM logo or symbol—whatever they call him—and I’m sitting here with mama and papa watchin’ some old movie and he’s just roarin’ and roarin’ and I’m thinkin’, “That’s one big daddy” and he sorta looks likes me, just a bit around the whiskers.
And suddenly, without warning, I am overtaken by that primordial urge of all kitties to tear something’s throat out, and so I sneak out into the garden just after mama has put out food for those dumb turtledoves she loves so much (what a stupid name—they don’t look like turtles at all), and there they are, just a-peckin’ and a-peckin’, oblivious to the fact that they are about to become mince-doves when this tenacious Tuxedo tracker of timid tweeters springs to life from her camouflaged cave and rips out their livers simultaneously!
But… I only got as far as the chattering. My fearsome little teeth just kind of had a mind of their own and I went keh keh keh keh and made my eyes into slits and probably terrified every living thing around me (I know mama and papa were stunned into silence, their forks stopped in midair as they ate their lunch, watching this theatre unfold), and I lowered my lithe, sleek kitty body into the greenery and got up on my haunches to spring into life like a coiled hooded cobra–but at the last minute, I just couldn’t’ make it happen. Turtledovus interruptus.
They looked so cute, all peckin’ away together like a happy married couple and their little bright, round brown eyes were so trusting and they kept flyin’ up and down sounding like their fan belts were slipping and I just turned around and walked away from temptation with not so much as a ta-ta to those two, but they knew. They knew that they had escaped a bloody fate by a feather….
They also knew they could peck in peace with me around to protect them, and that’s my law of the jungle—let peckin’ doves peck, let the neighbor’s chickens cluck, and someday, finally, one day, everyone will let sleeping cats lie….
