Slice

BUCKHEAD SPRINGS

“Oh!” Donna Eichord was surprised by the little kitten, who had stood up on his hind legs sinking his tiny front claws into her leg. “Ouch! Don't!” she said, disengaging the cat from her flesh. “That hurts, you little stinkpot. You're so quiet. You nearly scared me to death, sneaking up on me.” She was cleaning a chicken and she put the naked fowl down, washed her hands, then picked the kitten up and carried him into the living room, sitting him down on the floor and dropping down beside him.

“Wanna play?” she said, and the cat meowed loudly. “Okay, come on.” And she tossed one of his toys. “Come on. You wanna play, let's play then. Chase it, Tuffkins.” She threw the fake mouse across the room. The cat cocked his head at her and let out a meow of disinterest. “Not into that, eh?” He yawned. “You sleepy? You couldn't be sleepy, little guy, you've been asleep half the day. You want your dinner?” The cat cried and she got up with a sigh and looked at the clock. “Okay. Dinner coming up."

She took the can opener and opened some cat food. Tuffy sniffed it a couple of times, then walked to the back door.

“Okay. I give up. I'm going to let you out but only on one condition: you have to promise you'll come in when I call you. No making me come chase you down like last time, okay?"

The cat blinked, or so she imagined, meaning, yes, I promise, and she said, “All right. Just remember, pal, a deal is a deal.” She opened the door with a flourish. “And it's little Tuff coming out of chute number one. Wheeee!” The small ball of gray flew past her into the freedom and excitement of the yard and the big, wild, outdoor world.