Tales of Ella the Circus Dog
2006-02-03 8:47 PM
Mouse!
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I hear Cat come in around sunset, but I am the only one. Poodle and Labrador sleep like the dead. I go to the top of the stairs and see Cat, still and tense and flicking his tail. I fly down the stairs. Cat doesn’t look up. I smell Rat. Or something like Rat. Cat does, too. Or maybe Cat hears Rat. Or something like Rat. Then I see something like Rat streak across the floor, and I see Cat pounce like Leopard, Spotted on National Geographic, and Cat’s claws are out and sharp and his teeth nail Rat’s neck and I hear it crack. And Cat drops Rat. And Cat licks lips and smacks and tongues one paw. He moves from his haunches and stands over Rat. Or something like Rat. Cat smacks his lips. He jumps onto the sofa and further up, onto its back and takes Poodle’s favorite corner, where he bathes himself. I don’t understand Cat.
Poodle has come alive and waddles down the stairs, tail like an egg beater. She smells Cat. She stops over Rat like she’s hit a wall, and she asks me what happened to Mouse. Mouse! Of course! Something like Rat. I’ve never seen one, but Tiny told us one morning when we were feeding. I don’t want to tell Poodle about Cat, who has now stopped licking his back leg long enough to stare at Poodle. He holds his leg above his head like a dancer. I could do that if I practice.
Before I can stop her, Poodle has taken Mouse to the slumber ball. I can’t watch. I hate it when we act like the dogs we are.
When the People come home, Mouse is in the middle of the den, not looking so good. The People are disgusted. I let her know I am an innocent.
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