He was here. Stolid and kingly, he sat upon the rock. Black fur rustling in the wind as he sat cloaked in shadows, making his muscled form invisible to the eye. He gazed; his paws like white gloves, rooted against the cool granite. She slipped outside; his gaze returned. Padding across the green grass on her petite grey paws, tail in air, she took up a seat on his perch.

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"We watched as they just purred contently. It was a very cute thing indeed," I said. "Now, Carla's background is actually pretty sweet. She was born a wild cat, and then ended up having kittens before she hit one year old. Her boyfriend at the time booked it once he knew she was pregnant, so she was alone in a big world with a future litter ahead of her. She was adopted by our neighbors, who owned like a billion cats, and they took care of her. I never really found out what happened to her kittens, but oh well. They probably died. Anyways, at her new home she didn't fit in for many reasons. Because of her infant-pregnancy, her growth was stunted and she was beaten by the bigger stronger cats. They would steal her food and if she complained, they'd beat her again. Taking a risk, she ran away from the domestic violence in search of a new home. Coincidentally, she ran into my babysitter, Stella, and me, as we were about to drive my remote-control boat in a pond down the road. It was actually funny because I dropped the remote, and Stella bent over to pick it up, and then suddenly there was a cat on her back when she tried to come back up. We decided to take her in and give her food because her ribs stuck out like a mile in each direction, literally."




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She rubbed her dainty little head underneath his midnight-black jaw. He affectionately licked the back of her neck as they sat perfectly at ease with each other underneath the setting sun. They both knew the dark meant the end, but they didn't want to part. Five minutes, ten minutes more, anything would do, but no. They parted slowly, relishing every last touch of their fur. He left with more than a few backward looks. She stayed on the rock, wondering.




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"There was always a 5 minute or so pause where Carla would go off into a room by herself, but she'd always come and snuggle afterwards. She got too lonely by herself. She usually came to me, and snuggled right on my lap no matter what I was doing. Snuggle is a weird word. Anyways, I don't know how long exactly that their little courtship lasted, but I do know they did some very intriguing things together, once underneath the truck. It was late one night," I started.




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He was back. The joy in her face was evident as she strolled over to his position on his rock. There was no going home for him at sundown; tonight, he was here. The moon full, the sky clear, it was perfectly romantic for two felines. Once the moon reached its peak, he started. He sang. He sang a song of sorrow, of joy, and of love. She, touched and captivated, joined in the undulating lines. Underneath the green truck, the melodious notes touched the ears of many, who, upon hearing them, joined in the sorrow and awe.




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"It was horrendous. It was a mix of dying cow and a vulture having a seizure. Of course, it was at like 3:00 in the morning, too, so we were all very happy. It was pretty crazy, though, because I don't know how many people have ever experienced hearing two cats sing to each other. I would bet that it's a once in a lifetime type moment, but you never know. It isn't so much a mystery of the world, as an interesting thing of cats -- a little bit of a downgrade -- nevertheless, it was a grand experience. I never really know what goes on in Carla's life so for all I know they could be a very serious couple, eligible for some kind of cat marriage. I highly doubt this, but then again many doubt that animals talk when people are not around. They could have just become immensely sneaky, as cats often are, and have evaded my watching eye, or they could have broken up after a nasty fight. The truth remains unknown, but I, being very feline myself, know there is more to this cat then what meets the eye."




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She slipped out the window and clawed her way down the wall until she reached the porch roof. From there, she clawed down the post until she was in jumping distance of the ground. Once landed, she sprinted over the rock wall and climbed into the peach tree. As she landed on a branch, she lost her footing a little bit and almost fell, but his steady paw caught her and she steadied her balance. Flushing, she gave him a thanking but embarrassed look. Making sure that no people were in ear shot he said, "You better watch your footing there, Carla." "What are you talking about?" she replied, slyly licking her paw as she spoke. He started to reply but stopped as he saw the woman and that big black beast from the underworld come bursting out of the house. "Meow," he said instead. While the woman and dog were outside, they continued to speak in code. A meow here, a purr there, but mainly just staying quiet to go unnoticed. When at last the debauched duo had retreated inside, he continued, "Carla, I've been meaning to talk to you," she cut him off, "No, no, are you really doing this? You know what James did to me! I thought you understood! What about what you sung last night? Did you mean none of that?" He stammered, taken aback by her anger, "Look Carla, I just can't continue like this." That's when she smelled it: the sweet aroma of another cat in the distance. It was she. The calico cat.




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"There is one thing I do know about her mysterious past, however. There was this cat, a female, who was rather large and calico in coloring. She would really throw Carla around. Since Carla came to us, the calico cat had bullied her: chasing her up trees, ambushing her from behind a bush, anything she could do to Carla she did. It was terrible. I would assume that this cat was responsible for Carla's lack of food because of its constant evildoings. One day, well let me tell you I'll never forget that day."




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Carla waited. Muscles tensed, mind reeling, she collected her thoughts. She could be going to her death. She smelled her before she could hear her. A leaf crunched as that white, brown, and black monstrosity traipsed up the road. Carla was situated perfectly: downwind, completely hidden from any eye and she had the element of surprise. Its head came into view, then its front paws, and now its whole body. She waited just a second more. It was time.




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"They got into this huge fight. They were rolling all over the ground with their claws digging up all the dirt. It was like one of those "the perfect match-up" boxing matches (that weirdly enough happen every single match) where it's strength and size vs. speed and agility. Carla was absolutely OWNING that fat calico meany-face. She was all over the place, shwam: jumping roundhouse kick to the face, shwam again: uppercut to the jaw with open claws, and boom: critical hit to her stomach with a scraping kick from her beastly legs. The calico cat was gone, for good.




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She sat there, panting. She had managed to escape all injury save for a deep scratch on her nose. She had won. She let that thought run all the way through her body and to the tip of her tail, which was still twitching from excitement. Carla padded off to nurse her wounds alone. She slept outside that night, relishing her victory. Carla knew she would be safe to roam free outside from now on. When she woke up, she saw him. He was back, on his rock, as usual. She walked in his direction, but turned up the garden stairs and casually slipped in the door.