by Jackie Deal
I am Amber. The Attack Cat. Hear me roar! I am alert. Ready for battle. Ready to protect my home and family. I lie flat to the floor to escape detection by the enemy. My paws are ready to pounce. My ears are flat, back, the better to hear. My claws are unsheathed. I am a sleek, well-oiled killing machine. I am watching. Waiting.
There! Right in front of me: an alien monster disguised as a … a rug. Yeh, my Mistress thinks it’s just a rug. But I know better. I know that any minute now a space monster—will— Yes, there he is!
I pounce—flying low across the floor. A direct hit! I grab the corner of the rug/monster and flip him into the air. The soft underbelly is exposed and I dig my claws in. I shake him. Roll him. Crush him and will destroy him. He puts up a good fight. But I have right on my side; I will prevail. Oh, Help! He has me surrounded. I am smothered.
One final desperate maneuver and the rug/monster sails up into the air, releasing me. I flop, flat. Panting. Exhausted. I have given close to my all to protect my dim-witted Mistress.
Then my heavy-footed Mistress clomps across the floor. “Oh, you silly cat, look what you’ve done to my rug.” She stomps down the upturned edge of the rug. No monster attacks her. I have chased them away. I have overcome! She strides off and leaves me wounded and weary. That’s the thanks I get? No medal of valor for protecting home and hearth? Hey come back here! Not even a TREAT?
(Thanks to Fred Prout for the idea.)