He wore these yellow contacts so his eyes would match the cats. It was spooky but they had this inseparable bond that took away from the creepiness. The feline’s name was Fangs. I knew this because I’d hear him call out. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Come here, Fangs.” The tiny bell around Fang’s neck would jingle as she ran toward Clifford. He’d give her a treat, rub under her neck and walk off. Fangs always followed, but today – today, she stopped long enough to turn and stare at me.
“Meow……” she’d take a couple of steps, stop and meow again. I followed her. Her untamed nails scraped against the concrete.
The door to Clifford’s house was cracked just enough where I could see in. Clifford was down on all fours, lapping up milk from the cat’s bowl. I put my hand over my mouth to keep from loudly gasping. Five small black kittens arrived for their portion. Clifford’s face became heated as he picked them up with his teeth and one by one, he forcefully slammed them against the wall. The reddest of blood exited their tiny mouths. They were killed instantly from the impact.
Clifford curled up in a ball. Fangs went to comfort him, covering him with her wet tongue and kisses. He moaned out with pleasure having finally been accepted in this world.
“Momma.” he cried.
