Story Five: The Bag
It was a paper bag. Just a paper bag, left on the kitchen floor by the humans with the casual cruelty of people who do not understand what they have done.
Biscuit found it first. She approached with the slow, deliberate caution of a bomb disposal expert who has, unfortunately, no training in bomb disposal. Her ears went flat. Her tail puffed to approximately three times its standard diameter.
"Mew," she said very quietly. *You. I see you.*
The bag did not respond. This was suspicious.
She batted it once with her paw. It made a tremendous crinkling noise that ricocheted off every wall in the kitchen and Biscuit launched herself backward four feet and hit the dishwasher with a sound like a small, orange catastrophe.
Silence.
She stared at the bag.
"Mew mew mew mew," she said, composing herself with enormous dignity. *I meant to do that. That was a strategic retreat to assess the threat at a safer distance. That is what happened.*
