One Cat's Trash May 8, 2019 0:05:16 GMT
Post by LupTacco on May 8, 2019 0:05:16 GMT
The sun glinted off the neighbor's glass wind-chime, scattering flecks of color across the road and hitting the resting tom square in the eyes with reds and greens and soft blues as he groggily resigned himself to being, once again, not asleep. It was sunset, and a warm yellow-orange glow hung over the quieter residential part of town, where he often took to resting and napping on the porches of the older twolegs around, who sometimes left him treats or- for just a lucky few- scratched that persistent itch behind his ears so satisfyingly. Not that he'd ever let another cat see him be handled like that though- he didn't need his reputation to be ruined by cats claiming he was going soft or turning into a house pet. Well, in any case, the evening was soon to begin, and that meant plenty of opportunities for mischief and easy snacking now that there were fewer rivals and dogs out. Stretching his broad white paws out in front of his chin and raising his rump in the air with a wide yawn of his jaws, Wheat slung himself up and forward down the porch steps, across the soft green manicured grass, and onto the tough grey asphalt, keeping a wary eye out for the tell-tale glowing eyes of monsters.
He prowled into the heart of the downtown area, slinking behind the restaurants. He didn't come here very often, too many cat scents around the edges, but today he was feeling brave- and partial to a meatball. The red-brick joint that always had spare noodles and that red sauce was still open, and just receiving its evening rush- just as he hoped. The amount of twolegs around would surely keep most cats away. Waiting for a lull in traffic, he darted across the road, springing on top of the stone wall and hauling himself over and down into the alleyway where the restaurant's dumps were. He let himself land with a loud thud on top of the trash bin, but froze as he spotted a tail flicking among the steel grey cans just paces away. "Who's sneakin' around?" he let out a warning yowl, standing with his flank presented and his tail up, trying to look intimidating. A pale, wide-eyed face flicked up from the trash with a messy bundle of crushed sardines in its mouth.
"Whu-huh? Fspsppth-" a look of panic crossed her face as she leapt straight in the air with surprise, dropping her prize with a sputter. Wheat's confident scowl faded to a confused frown, slacking his shoulders and hopping down. "Ey, I don't mean any troubl-" the fuzzy queen began nervously, interrupted by Wheat's own casual tone.
"Eh, no worries. Thought you were one 'a my rivals. He's uh," the fawn tabby struggled to come up with a fictitious rival who wasn't too ridiculous, "always... hiding in cans. Waiting for me." He blinked, leaving his eyes half-lidded as he moved on to gloss over how stupid his excuse was. Even she was cocking her brows at him, but quickly decided it was better to use her time to munch down the sardines. He watched her curiously, awkwardly. It had been a while since he spoke to someone. "I'm Wheat" he grunted eventually. She looked him up and down a few times, glanced behind her several more, and even looked around him as though she was expecting someone to come give her advice.
"Snippet. But most jus' call me Snips," she responded eventually, drawing a paw over her not-quite-brown, not-quite-green eyes to clean the fur around them of tiny fish bones and scales. Snippet, Wheat repeated the name to himself, memorizing it and the cat it belonged to. "Ya lookin' for food or what, bub?" her sudden change in tone startled him, but he managed a nod. "Well, help me tear open these bags- they's always got 'em loaded with scraps," she put a white-toed paw on the thin tar-colored 'wrapping' of one trash bag, flexing her claws out slightly before looking to him.
Shrugging nonchalantly, he padded over and hooked his own claws into the sides of the bag. "Yeah, alright."