i don’t remember the day i was born, and i’ll bet you don’t either, but i do remember being a kitten, lolloping with my siblings in the brush under the watchful eye of our beloved mum.  and i remember that when we were big enough to hunt on our own, we were on our own.  we scattered in the woods and i took up residence in a part where the mice and squirrels were plentiful and water ran in a trickle after a rain.  i had my own little place beneath the roots of a tree and as far as i could tell, i was set.  but then a few days passed when my dinner outran me, and i was too hungry for sense.  i did what no wild cat should ever do:  i chased a mouse into the basement of a house.

mum warned us kittens of the dangers of houses.  she told us about doors and windows and how they were not to be trusted because they might let you enter but might not let you exit.  she told us about the humans that live inside who would chase us away or worse, report us to the authorities.  she told us to stay away, no matter what.  but there i was, intent on that mouse and the next thing i knew i was not out but in.  i cornered my meal and was half finished when one of those doors opened and a human saw me.  i spat mouse fur as i ran and slipped through a broken grate to the outside and escaped into the cover of trees.

to be continued….