Short Stories From the Mind of Brite

Up On All Four Legs

Author's Note- I wrote this a year ago, so excuse any crappiness.. Thanks.

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What do you want? You want to know who I am? Since when does anyone care about a snarky cat who really doesn’t enjoy interviews, or is this a new trend? TJ and Abby- not to mention my sister Scratch and good friend Cole- will be very disappointed if I’m cranky. Well, if that’s what it’ll take to make you leave so I can go back to my nap in peace, then fine. I should probably warn you, though… it starts about half a year ago during the fall, when I was one-and-a-half years old. My little sister, Scratch, and I were in our favorite alleyway, trying to find some food, when our lives changed forever.

My name is Courageous Captain Catniss III. Most other cats and just recently humans refer to me as The Captain. And I prefer it this way, as Catniss sounds rather stupid for a cat. Don’t ask me why, for it’s only my opinion. It just doesn’t sound very pleasant to me. I was born with only three legs, and I was born into life as a stray. Thank whoever’s up in that big sky that I have Scratch. She’s all the family I need. All the family I had back then, too. My mother was run over by a car right after Scratch was born. It’s a miracle my little sister survived, being as young as she was. 

I was just thinking about this when she bounded up to me, her fluffy, mocha-brown tabby tail high in the air, and mewed excitedly, “Captain! There’s a Chinese place down the street- plenty of pork leftovers. A whole pack of stray dogs just left, and you know how those ones are; it was Flash’s pack of mutts. I don’t think they’ll go back!” It always surprised me how good her memory was- and still is- as well as how fast she can spew out information for me.

“Nice observation,” I told her with an impressed nod, and her bright sapphire blue eyes glowed as I praised her. Scanning the dark alley with my forest green and gold-flecked eyes, I spotted a tall, paint-chipped picket fence. I waved towards it with my long tail and Scratch smiled, her whiskers twitching as she raced towards it and cleared it in one leap. A bittersweet smile crossed my face as I saw how well she could run and jump with four legs.

Glancing more intensely around the twilight-masked alley, I finally spotted what I was looking for against one edge of the picket fence: a silvery trashcan. Its metallic outsides shimmered in the little bit of sunlight that filtered the spaces between the tops of the New York City (at least, that’s what humans called our hometown) buildings.

The trashcan was slightly rusted, and it would most likely start up a chain of loud, annoying noises if I jumped on it, but that wouldn’t affect my landing if I got over the fence. In truth, I already knew I wouldn’t be able to get over without anything to push off of, so the oversized tin can would work just fine.

Okay, Cap’n. It’s now or never, I told myself confidently as I sprinted towards it. As always, my three legs worked in perfect unison. My forelegs propelled me forward, while the back one kept me going in the right direction. My long chocolate-brown tail hung out like a banner to keep my balance, and the small, stumpy end of my right hind leg flopped uselessly against my side. In that split second when I knew the time was right, I leapt onto the trashcan, pushed off with my back leg, and sailed through the air like Super Kitty. Since all cats happen to land on their feet, I dropped lightly onto the ground. Then two seconds later, I heard the unwanted clash of the fallen trashcan lid. Infernal piece of metal!

Scratch raced over to me, her eyes wide. “What was that?”

“Let’s just say we should probably head over to that other dumpster you mentioned before the humans chase us with large wooden sticks,” I mutter dryly, hoping the expression on my coffee-and-white furred face was impassive.