Rusty, the cat, was looking intently at the glass of leftover milk sitting on the garden table. Rusty was tempted but cautious. Long human company had taught him that nothing came free in life.
“What are you sitting idle for, fat boy?” Rusty looked up, startled by the question, and saw Clucky, the jungle fowl, a recent acquisition of the master, “why don’t you do some running around?”
Rusty never liked Clucky very much. Now also Rusty felt an irresistible urge to paw Clucky. Better sense prevailed, Rusty swallowed his anger. Not only Clucky was a fierce fighter, he was also master’s pet.
“Clucky can beat up cats and chase dogs?” master had gushed about his rooster’s fighting prowess to a guest recently, “my Clucky will bring home honors fighting in cockfights.”
“When is your fight, pea brain?” Rusty asked with mock concern, “I shall pray for your win.”
“Keep your prayers to yourself, fatty,” Clucky replied haughtily, “I don’t need them.”
“Poor thing, does not know that dead fowls end up on the dinner table!” Rusty licked his paw and lazed under morning sun, “thank god, cat meat is not a delicay.”
Word Count : 193
Photo Credit :DeAnna Grossman