General

The alleycat was the cheshire grin of my day, always there, always ready to arch into my outstretched palm.

General

In that drab alleyway the cat was the gold, golden fur in golden light, always watching in that steady feline manner.

General

The alley cat was the monarch of the alleyway, always so clean after spending long afternoons washing in the sun.

General

The alley cat trotted as if the pavement was springy, her tail held high. She was a queen of the world temporarily disadvantaged, she was quite sure. I could see her feline pride bottled up inside, as perfect as her purr when she received the attention every cat deserves. I never felt a cat more soft, nor eyes that reached in and grabbed my soul with such ease... so what could I do? I took her home and made her a throne of velvet.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 12, 2019.
General

The alley cat was almost more scar than fur, his ears were matted confetti and he stank worse than week old garbage. He watched with lamp-like eyes, a ring of sea-green around the expanse of black, paws always ready to run.

General

From the darkness rang a mew that penetrated even the drone of traffic and the clang of a garbage lid not far away. Riley stopped, heart beating fast. It sounded like Shell but he couldn't be sure and Mom had told him to come straight home after dungeons and dragons club. The cry came again, this time more shrill and without another thought he headed into the dank gloom of the alley, sneakers splashing into newly made puddles. Then he saw her, a storey up on a fire escape, drenched and holding a paw in the air. Riley laughed, the tension draining from his shoulders. But as he passed the third stair he became aware of someone else in the alley...

General

The scrapper from the alley doesn't look like a stray, he's just as well fed as any apartment kitty. Truthfully, the scraps from the Japanese restaurant are better than any cat food and his coat shines like he's off to a cat show. On sunny days like today he'll be on top of the old black dumpster, taking in the heat from above and below.

General

From behind the garbage cans comes two eyes reflecting the sallow street lights, hardly moving despite the high wind that gusts down the New York street. Riley stops and drops a corner of his tuna sandwich; he's tempted out this alley cat before, so long as he doesn't move she can't see him too well. Cars pass with headlights on, moving too fast toward the traffic lights as usual, pounding their brakes suddenly as if the red light is a big surprise. A tortoiseshell paw comes into the light followed by a body so slight she could still be a kitten. On act of bravery fuels another and soon she is eating the tuna just a few inches from his boots. He could grab her but then what? The trust would be broken and his dream of taming her gone.