Waiting, wishing, wanting. This was what was on his mind. Tongue hanging out, with drool spilling from the tip. He was hungry. Softly walking the perimeters, looking front and behind, to see if anyone or anything was following him. He was tired and he didn’t feel like fighting for his meal.
The season had been a hard one for him. Food was low. No one was leaving any food out, making meal time a bit easier to latch on to. There was nothing in the trash bins, but paper and cans and some plastics.
He sat himself under an oak tree, and with ears perked up, listening for intruders, he cleaned himself. There was more dirt where he traveled than grass. Without much rain, even his own prints could be seen in the dust.
He used to consider himself an outstanding creature, but as he bathed, he could feel his bones. His fat that he usually carried was disappearing.
Stopping, listening, he heard a sound. Sitting up straight he sat very still. His green eyes were scanning the darkness, trying to hone in on what was out here. His nose wiggled as he began sniffing for familiar smells. There it was again, not far in the distance. He got on all fours and began to make his way, edging closer to the sound. His mouth began to water, as he could envision, his next meal. His belly almost touching the ground, his green radars had caught the target.
Crawling closer and closer, he was inches from his prey. He licked his lips, and crouched in his attack position. He waited for one second, then pounced, placing both front legs over his prey. Nothing, he had missed.
His eyes quickly found his trophy and moved the few feet, and crouching once again, make his move. His body covered it. He could feel it trying to escape under his belly. There was a fight between the two. He was not giving up. He quickly moved to the side, while using his foot to hold his victim. With one foot holding his meal, he reached down with his white fangs and bit into fur.
He started shaking his head back and forth wearing down his prey. He let it drop and bit into it once again, and he could feel the body becoming limp. He dropped it from his mouth and batted it silly with his front legs, until it moved no more. Dead, lifeless, victory, a meal.
He picked it up once again and took it to the back porch and tossed it down. He looked briefly around, and no one was present, and then sat down to feast on his mouse.
Thank you Ermilia for allowing me this chance to write for Picture It And Write It.