The Cat

02

One morning the cat, as usual, was being stroked by my brother, which involved having his fur pulled.

"He's incredibly placid, and Peter loves him," I said, "But I still don't like him,"

"What a nasty thing to say to Bruiser," said mother, crouching down next to Peter to stroke the cat. "How can she be so nasty to you?"

It probably took less than a second. Mother wears a chain around her neck with a cross on it. As she bent forward to stroke the cat, the cross slipped out of her dress and knocked against Bruiser's shoulder. Bruiser yowled, lashing out wildly with one of his claws as he leapt away. My mother gave a little scream of fright.

For a moment I was so confused that I couldn't take in what happened. Bruiser was snarling and spitting under the kitchen table. My mother, frozen in surprise, was still bending forward, the cross dangling from her neck, and Peter...

"Peter!"

There were scratch marks from his left eye all the way down to his chin. Little beads of blood began to emerge. Only just becoming aware of the pain, he began to cry.

"Shoo!" I shouted at Bruiser furiously.

"Shoo!", and I chased him out of the kitchen. He fled across the little yard and jumped onto the high wall at the back. He stopped to look back at me. From inside the house, I could hear Peter crying, and my mother's fruitless attempts to comfort him. I am not normally cruel to animals, but I was so angry that I wanted to chase Bruiser away.

"You horrible thing!" I shouted, picking up a big stone and hurling it at him.

I don't think I expected to hit the target, and in fact, I put my hand to my mouth in dismay when the stone hit Bruiser full on the body. I had thrown with such force that it nearly knocked him off the wall. To my amazement, instead of howling in pain like any other cat would and making a terrified escape, Bruiser stayed exactly where he was. He didn't even make a noise. He simply looked down at the stone as it fell to the ground, more in curiosity than in shock. And then slowly, he raised his head once more, and gazed at me.

It wasn't the stare of an ordinary animal. I swear to God that his strange orange eyes were so full of loathing that I was scared that he was going to pounce on me. I stepped back, instinctively, just in case. But Bruiser, after a few moments of staring at me with his terrifying gaze, sauntered along the wall and disappeared over the side.