All the Pretty Kitties

by Jemsill

Demeter looked down at her sleeping kitten. Tonight, they made their home in a gutter, tomorrow, she wasn't sure. They had been running for so long, and she was tired and weak,but they had to keep going. Macavity would catch them if they stopped.

Jemima coughed and whimpered in her sleep. Demeter bent down and licked her child gently. Jemima got worse every day. She had always been frail. When she was born, she had been the runt of the litter. Macavity had wanted to be done with her, but Demeter wouldn't have it. He had hit her, and it had hurt, but at least her daughter was still alive.

I should have gotten out when Bombalurina did, she thought now, But I loved Mac then. He never loved me though. He never loved any of us.

Yes, she had been one of Macavity's many queens. They were all the most beautiful female cats in the city. But they were all property, used to satisfy Macavity's indecent needs. And she had fallen for him.

He had charmed her, gained her trust, and then, he tricked her. He had played that game at least ahundred times before, and to him, she had only been a hundred and one.

She could still remember that night she arrived at his home. She had gotten frightened and wanted to leave, but Macavity merely shook his head and whispered, "You belong to me." At that moment, she knew her freedom was lost.

I am a fool, she thought, No one will ever love me.

It started to rain. Jemima woke up and began to cry. Quickly, Demeter picked her up by the scruff of the neck and began to trot away. It was time to find another resting place.

The End.

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