Tales of Ella the Circus Dog
2006-01-03 7:42 AM
Cat, Bigblack.
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I might as well spill the bones about Cat, Bigblack. He doesn’t even belong to us, but he’s been hanging out in the back ever since I can remember. And no wonder. The People leave food and water for him every day. That’s part of why I hang around, too, but I didn’t have a choice. When you weigh ten pounds, you go where you’re taken. Bigblack isn’t the type to be taken. He must weigh six times what I do. But if he sees some little thing out of the corner of his eye, even if it is walking very slow, he can move as fast as Rat. I might have lost an eye that time.
This morning when I go down the stairs, the flap to our door is already open. And who sits on the other side? Bigblack. I nearly ran right into him. He was ready for his food, and he blocked See-A’s path as she went through the yard and out to the picnic table. That’s where Bigblack eats. The People put one of our little houses back there, up on the table, with plants around it, and I seen them put a blanket inside. Not as good as my igloo, but better than Bigblack deserves, considering how nasty he can be. He doesn’t purr like our Ziggycat, and I always got to watch my back.
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