Cat Number Four

Shelly sighed as she looked at the stray. Something in her mind shouted "Run away," but it was too late. The kitten would be coming with her.

On the cab ride home, as she stroked the plush fur, Shelly recalled the dreams she had as a child. A successful career in business. A handsome husband. Two obedient children. Those dreams were now gone, replaced by this adorable fur ball in her lap.

She entered her home and set the kitten on the floor. There was no turning back. This was cat number four. Shelly was officially a crazy cat lady.

The Field

They wanted to build condominiums there, but when the construction crew arrived, Rufus scared them away.

A cluster of songbirds burst from the long grass every time Rufus barked. The neighborhood knew that he commanded the abandoned field, not the city council, not the eager developers. The pitbull had fought off Animal Control and the Humane Society enough times to have earned his dominion in perpetuity.

Rufus wasn't a stray. He belonged to the field, ever since his former owner passed and left him to fend for himself.

Rufus would die before he allowed anyone to take away his field.