The wildebeest grazes contentedly, tail flicking away flies as its moist nostrils snuffle the grass. It has not sensed my presence and for once the wind does not betray me. I stalk forward, placing each paw with great care. I can almost taste the juicy sweetness of a fresh kill. I must swipe my tongue over my mouth to control the drool. What a glorious feast this will be.
I lunge, razor-claws unsheathing as I roar my triumph. Perfect balance and superb agility land me on the beast's back where I deliver a mighty blow. The beast staggers but gets to its feet, forcing me to give chase.
I am Luchadore Loco and I am king of the Savannah! Even lions fear to speak my name!
I follow my prey with speed that would put my cheetah cousins to shame. My massive muscles bunch in a leap that will end this struggle of life and death. The greatest feast of my life awaits...
Until some stupid fuzzball brings a paw down on my tail, waking me from the best dream I've ever had. I leap to my feet with a hiss, ready to do battle with whatever challenger dared to interrupt my sleep. Missy flops onto her back, waving her paws in the air and laughing so hard that her whiskers bob up and down.
My warning growl only makes her laugh harder. Sometimes I think she failed to cough up a few hairballs and they went straight to her brain. This cat just doesn't get that I don't find her funny.
I'm on her in a flash, giving her ears a good boxing. One good smack has her crying for Ziggy to come to her rescue. Our grand leader rumbles a warning as Missy tries to look as small and pathetic as possible.
Ziggy always had a soft spot for the kittens of the family. If he hadn't taught me all the basic fighting moves I know, I would almost be tempted to take a swat at his ears.
Whatever. Now that I'm awake, it's time to get training.
The prey I have to stalk is nowhere near as good as real prey, but it gives me good targets to put my hunting skills to use without earning a growl from mother. The first task I set for myself is to capture the furry white mouse and give it a few stunning blows before going in for the kill. My claws catch in fake fur, flipping the toy high into the air to be captured between my paws. I allow myself a brief growl of satisfaction before turning my attention to the long furry that mother calls the ferret toy. Surely this is the dreaded grass snake that would threaten the safety of my family!
Stalk it with care and never let your paws get in reach of those venomous fangs. Go for the head! No, too close. Only my mastery of agility saves me from a nasty bite. Move in on the rear where it can't see your clever paws. Pin it! Yes! Go for the kill!
I kick aside the dead snake with a scornful flick of my rear leg. It's time to move on to agility drills.
There is no cat with my wondrous strength that is also capable of such astonishing acrobatic maneuvers. The cabinet that houses the picture box is a perfect launch pad for my latest move, sending me in a flip that allows me to land on the door arch Ziggy always likes to hog. My triumphant yowl lets the whole family know that I have the strength to take on any foe, even the neighbourhood dogs!
They ignore me for the promise of dinner and I grudgingly follow. I should be out there stalking live prey but I must admit, mother does have a knack for layering my meat just right.
I decide to show my appreciation by joining her at the glowing box. Every tap of her fingers makes little symbols appear on the screen. I want so much to swat them but I do not want to earn a scolding. She pays far too much attention to this box when she should be paying attention to me.
I look around the room carefully, making sure my brothers and sisters are busy with other tasks before taking my place on the shoulder of mother. It doesn't take her too long to figure out what I want. She gets to work scratching my nose just the way I like.
I shoot a smug look at the glowing box and decide it will not feel the wrath of my claws this particular night.
Mother makes the screen go dark and rises, carefully setting me to the floor. I hate when she goes to bed at night. Humans never want to sleep in the day, when the warmth of the sun is best for taking naps. It is so boring waiting for her to wake. I go to the room where most of the toys are scattered to run night drills.
My enemy is a pair of furry brown creatures. No matter how often they feel the wrath of my claws, they refuse to lose their irritating shape. It is no wonder humans call these paw coverings Uggs. It must be the human word for disgust.
I take one to present to mother when she wakes. She throws it from the bed with a cry of displeasure. It hits the wall with a satisfying smack as I look on in approval. Mother sees the evil in the creature and will not allow it to rest in a place better suited for a cat. She is smart, for a human.
Breakfast is served while mother waits for the smelly black stuff to heat. Sam's pesky kitten eyes are glued on the cookie jar that rests on the top shelf. Meat is the food of real cats. It's no wonder Sam is fat as a mouse in a grain sack.
I am prepared to join the family in a careful whisker grooming when the madness strikes.
Take to your paws! Run! Around the loop and loop again!
Watch out Ash! Scoot over Jazz! Joining me, are you? I always knew you were cats after my own heart.
I am running with the swiftness of a bird and I feel as if wings will sprout from my back when the stupid chair gets in my way.
Whack!
My nose hurts almost as badly as my dignity but for once even Missy is smart enough to keep her opinion to herself. I stalk to the toy room to take out my annoyance on a few pieces of false prey, building them up to wildebeests in my mind.
Loco is based on a Real Life maniac pet
Story by Pureflower
Overlay by User not found: ahri
Minion Re-Colour: SongSparra
Coding by Johnny
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