Smalltown Felines

I woke up to a very...unexpected surprise...in my humble little bed. Missy was standing over my very lazy body.

"Beatrice! Wake the hell up!"

I groggily opened my eyes, and sure enough, I saw an overweight fluffy tabby cat standing on top of me. She did not act this way on a daily basis. Something was wrong.

"Melissa, tell me why you are in my house. Who even let you in?"

She gave me a smirk.

"I let myself in..."

'The hell's that supposed to mean?

"Anyway," Missy said. "It's an emergency. I'll tell you when we get to the nest."

We began walking at a fast pace. I could barely catch up with this cat. All I wanted to do was lay in my perfect little cozy bed.

A couple years ago, when we were younger, we built a little home in a clearing by a creek. As we explored, which we do on the regular, we found a small formation on the side of the brook. It was likely man-made, and over time, we put our own flair on it. We decorated it with moss, flowers, rocks, and we even stole unused dog beds to make it comfy. It became our meeting area/ our "nest." Three years later, it's still standing.

It's a brisk five-minute walk, not counting other obstacles. When we arrived, the other cats in our group were already present in a way that made us look late.

Angela, Fiona, Diane, Priscilla, and Daphne are the other cats. A brief description of them:

Angela is just like her name; she is the most tranquil and angelic cat I've ever met.

Fiona is what we call a "Pussycat Prostitute." She'd fuck anything from a bird to a bee.

Diane is the kind of girl to start a fight. She is the oldest out of all of us.

Priscilla is like a mother cat to me. I really like her and she's protected me all my life.

Daphne is the most distant. She likely doesn't want to deal with the bullshit.

And lastly, Missy is my best friend. We've been friends since we were kittens.

"Y'all are late," said Diane, coldly.

"We know."

My eyes shifted to the empty spot in the nest; why is Daphne not here?

"We have called this emergency meeting to discuss the fate of our own late Daphne," said Priscilla.

Oh, shit. Daphne died?

"Cause of death?" I said.

"We do have a cause and a prime suspect. Daphne was found dead this morning after being hit by none other than Mrs. Jones, the mail lady."

Gasps filled the room.

Fiona was the first one to break the silence. "That bitch ran over my mate, Dusty."

"Shut up, Fiona," said Diane. "You're nothing short of a whore!"

"What? What the fuck did you just say?!" Fiona attempted to pounce on Diane.

"I have more class in my paw than in your fat slutty body!" shouted Diane.

"Hey!" Priscilla broke the fight. "This is a meeting! If you are gonna behave like this, then walk your ass home!"

"I'ma kill that bitch!" screeched Fiona.

"Anyway," said Priscilla, "considering the circumstances, a consequence is in order."

"A consequence?" said Missy.

"A consequence! You don't just kill a cat and get away with it!" I couldn't help but shout.

The group simultaneously agreed.

"What should the punishment be?" asked Diane.

"We will take a vote," said Priscilla. "The choices are: inflicted injury, slashed tires, and...death." Immediately following her options, each of the cats chose death. I admire their sadism.

"Death? Really?" said Angela.

"Yes," said Fiona. "Someone needs to inflict suffering onto her just like she did to us. So what's the plan? When are we going to commit it?"

Priscilla smiled. "Arson, poison, and brutal attack."

"Poison!" I shouted.

"Alright then, poison it is!"

The rest of the meeting was settling on which type of poison, and we eventually came to a decision. We were going to put Poison Hemlock in her milk. It seemed only right, since some of our owners have it just growing out and they won't do anything about it. The only problem was, it's dangerous to inhale.

"What's the lethal dose?" asked Angela.

"Who cares?" said Diane. "Put the whole damn plant in there!"

We agreed to go tonight, at six o'clock sharp, tie a rope on a poison hemlock plant, slip a large portion in her glass of milk while she looks away, and...she'll die shortly after.

Later, we traveled to Mrs. Chesire's house, an old woman who had many hemlock plants just growing around the yard. Considering that she didn't go outside much, she wasn't in danger.

"So...what do we do, Priscilla?" I asked

"I'll show you, Tris."

We tied a rope around one of the shoots, and pulled. The branch broke and we had ourselves a decent amount of poison for our victim.

"Which part of the plant is poisonous?" asked Missy.

"All the parts," said Priscilla. "Even if this thing rubbed against you, it would cause serious problems. Be vigilant."

"Wow."

We pulled our 'weapon' to Mrs. Jones' house, and sure enough, she was sitting on her back porch, treating herself to her usual glass of milk.

"Okay, we have to hide," said Diane. "She might see us and get suspicious."

"Good thinking, Diane," said Priscilla. "We need to create a distraction so we can do the job."

"I'll go to the other side of the house and meow, and I'll see if that will get her attention," said Missy.

"Be careful, Missy," I said.

"Don't worry, I will."

As Missy made her way over there, we sneaked behind a holly bush. We took turns peeking out a tiny peephole in the bush.

Missy meowed in an attention-provoking way. Thankfully, Mrs. Jones noticed.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" She walked over to the side of the house, and that was our call. We rushed to the scene and shook the rope over the glass of milk setting on the dirty pavement. The flowers of the hemlock fell into the drink, and the job was done.

"Missy!" I called.

"Right here."

We ran off, taking the stick with us, but still around a rope. We didn't want to risk anyone else dying other than who deserved it.

"Oh my god!" said Priscilla. "We did it so well!"

"Yeah." We were all very tired. We had just committed a murder.

The next morning, I woke up rather early. I tuned in on the couch with my owner, Bethany. She flicked the channels, and she eventually landed on the news station. Me and her cuddled as I made her leg my pillow.

"Late last night, a woman was found dead in the small town of Rosewater. She was located dead in her bedroom, not even in the bed. It was ruled, after an inspection that she had died of poisoning. No warrants or arrests have been issued. The victim was identified as Ava Jones."

I smiled. I was so proud of myself in that moment.