The Black Cat

When I came home in the night a black cat was on the roof of my car. It licked itself and did not look at me when I came close. A red collar was round its neck but I did not know whose cat it was. Then I remembered the cat droppings at the front of the house every morning. The droppings were wet and sour. One day my car ran over the droppings and caught them in the back tires. I was mad. I swore that I would find this cat, grab it by the neck and rub its face in its own droppings. Now the black cat raised its paw and stared at me, ready to lunge and scratch. I closed my fist and stared back at it, ready to put it on the ground. We stood and did not moved. Then it meowed and curled. I kicked my shoes off, closed the grille after me and showed it the finger.