“The dish is empty,” Belvedere said with a tail flick.

“I know. What can we do?” Mittens asked by nosing the bowl.

Belvedere smacked the dish. He smacked Mittens. He flicked his tail rapidly.

“There’s no need to yell,” Mittens said raising her paw in defense.

“That’s it. I’m leaving.” Belvedere lumbered over to the screen door. The young one who rarely feed them had left the screen door ajar again. “I’m living off the fat of the land.”

Mittens followed, her yellow eyes wide with fear and excitement. Belvedere pushed at the door squeezing his ample sides outside. Sleek and slender Mittens slipped behind him.

It was green, hot, and full of smells. But mostly it was hot and nothing smelt of turkey with cheddar and extra gravy. The world was the front step and they stood side by side. From a very high branch, a squirrel cursed them. Belvedere was scandalized. Mittens prayed for a bowl of treats. The squirrel threw an acorn at them. Suddenly the sounds of heavy footfalls. They waited. The delightful rustle of the food bag, the ecstatic snap of a cat food tin. The old one who feeds was awake. Huzzah! Huzzah! In a flurry of furry paws Mittens pulled open the screen door with her claws and the pair hustled inside. The old one exits back upstairs.

Mittens hurriedly began to eat. Belvedere sniffed.

“That’s it. I’m leaving!” Belvedere shouted by pretending to cover the dish with kitty litter. Chest plumped with indignation, he turned. Sighing Mittens followed. They headed out the door determined never to look back.