agentblack

Later the next morning, I would awake to find my father tied my ankles together with duct tape.

Today was mildly eventful. My mother fell a little bit out of love with the cat again today. It has been a gradual process.

When first the cat arrived, he was a kitten, who fitted upon the palm of my hand and would mew with happy delight at the strokes and ear scratchings he would recieve. He would cheerfully wobble over toward the dogs, both of them thoroughly freaked out by this thing - Smaller than rabbit, but COMPLETELY WITHOUT FEAR - and bat playfully at their noses.

Then later, as he grew lanky and moody, he lost his kittenish whimsy, and performed acts of laziness that drew admiration even from me, the boy who spent a week playing lego star wars. If he acknowledged your presence at all, it was with a raised eyebrow.

The only people he would respond to would be myself, when we would fight - titianic bouts of shocking brutality, generally ending with him scratching the fuck out of my forearms whilst I demonstrated how effective an opposable thumb is when you have to strangle a cat - and my mother because she fed him, and who he would lavish with undignified displays of purring and leg rubbing, the shameless whore that he is.

The cracks started to appear when Panzer started to leave the decapitated corpses of his victims at the door. Mum would shakle her head and busy herself in the kitchen.

"it's just a phase he's going through, he doesn't know any better..." Much the same thing she said about me when I used to crawl home at seven in the morning, sweating vodka and grinning with the waxy smile of the near terminal drunk.

The day came when she couldn't ignore the ingrained spite and joy of violence of the once adorable little ball of fluff that used to lie on his back at try and catch your fingers.

Whilst my mother was placidly watching television, an occasional and irregular 'thunk' started to disturb her viewing pleasure.
Investigating the noise, she discovered Panzer happily flicking an increasingly stunned mouse against the glass door, like a child playing tennis against a wall.

Wailing, she entreated Panzer to stop. Blinking, Panzer regarded her for a moment, before he flicked the mouse back up against the glass. Later, he ate it's face. Not it's head, just it's face.

Today, when she found Panzer tormenting a baby sparrow that had fallen from it's nest, she wailed again, but it was a little more resigned.
Regret, concern, but most importantly, resignation, were writ large across her face. She sent me outside to deal with it.

Panzer was unamused I yanked him away by the scruff of the neck, fixing me with a glare that promised hardcore retribution. He didn't lay it on too thick, because he'd clocked the shovel I was carring to dispatched the fallen bird. He's a smart cat, and doesn't believe in taking chances,

Luckily(ish) for the small bird, it wasn't badly hurt, so I wrapped it in kitchen towel so my manstench would stick to it too much, and nudged it under a hedge. Sensing that it wasn't going to be the shuttlecock in an impromptu game of Cat Bastard Wall Badminton, the bird scuttled off toot sweet. There was no need to deploy the Shovel of Merciful Crush Death.

My mum was pleased. The cat was thwarted. Privately, I rate the birds chances as Low to Poor, but if it does snuff it, it'll be out of sight of my mum, which involves much less hassle.