He’s doing it again. Yelling into the hallway downstairs. I don’t know why Diesel feels the need to yell at everything. I do my best to focus on the birds I’ve been watching outside on the lawn through the living room window. I wish he would keep quiet so I can just focus. I need to come up with some way to convey a message to the humans about the visitor that came to the door. I need to coordinate some kind of attack and defend strategy. Would they even understand? I may have to lower myself to try and speak their language. They appear to communicate with each other freely. Diesel’s yowling in the basement is irritating me. There’s no point, they’re imbeciles, all of them, especially him.
The yelling stops. Diesel saunters up the stairs and makes his way into the living room. “The acoustics down there make me feel like a lion” he says proudly as he perches himself on the back of the settee to my left and looks out the window at the birds as well. I have to tell myself over and over not to bother to chastise him. Don’t engage. “Do you think you could catch one?” he asks motioning with his head towards the birds outside. I’m trying my best to ignore him. I’m not in the mood for his happy-go-lucky antics. “The birds, do you think you could catch one if you ran after it?”. He’s looking right at me now. “Yes. Not a problem.” For me anyway. I feel forced into a response, and to justify it to him for some unknown reason. “I’d easily outsmart them!” I continue on almost against my will. “They don’t know how fast I am or how high I can jump. They wouldn’t know what hit them.” What unknown force compels me to talk to him? “I bet you would too, I’ve seen you jump” he flatters me before heading off towards a throw pillow placed on the sectional.
Diesel starts to knead the pillow as he makes himself comfortable, preparing for his afternoon nap session. He stops kneading and looks directly into my eyes, “I bet you’d catch all of them”. He says it slowly and with eyes the size of saucers. For a split second I feel a sense of pride well up inside me. Blast! How does he do that? Despite all of my efforts I’m not immune to his encouraging tone and puss-in-boots eyes. That’s what keeps him around here, I’m sure of it. He’s charming. I can’t help admitting it, but just to myself.
Enough with the distractions. With Diesel settling himself to sleep I’ll have at least a few hours to formulate a plan. Both of action and communication. What strengths and tactics do I have available to me in order to make the humans appreciate the seriousness of the situation? Cunning, obvious intellect, agility, stealth and explosive power. I do have quite the impressive arsenal at my disposal. It’s disappointing the humans don’t have the same features. They are big however, and so was that shadowy figure. If nothing else, I can use them as a blockade while I pounce in and disable the figure with a precise strike. I see a diagram of the plan forming in my mind.
That’s it! I’ll draft a visual plan of the attack. The humans should be able to interpret the pictures if I bring it down to a basic show and tell demonstration level. The excitement makes me itchy. Quick scratch under the jaw should take care of that. Well, maybe two. What now? That twitch again. Now my back is all wrong. Everything is uneven. This will take some time.
As I continue to flatten and align all of the fur on my entire body I start to feel drowsy. Sleep starts to set in. As I drift I don’t lose track of my focus. I can still see it in my mind, my draft of shadowy death.