Copycat by Colin Dann Page B

into the other cat’s hide. ‘Seems you didn’t learn your lesson last time,’ he snarled. Domino struggled free and offered no retaliation. He couldn’t escape quickly enough. Sammy grinned. ‘I suppose I am still a savage at heart,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Pinkie was right. But as long as I don’t look like one, I’m safe.’ He glanced down. The meat-bowl was all but empty.
    When the towpath was quieter Pinkie ventured to the water’s edge to see if she could catch a fish. In the river shallows small fry were darting about. She dabbled a paw and tried to hook one out without success. She leant out farther. A larger fish cruised close. In her excitement Pinkie half jumped into the water, soaking herself but missing the fish. A boat chugged downriver, sending its wash rippling towards the bank. Pinkie, intent on her fishing, was almost submerged by the rapid wavelets which broke over her back. She retreated hastily and shook herself. Most of the mud was washed from her fur but she was cold and hungry. At that moment Snowy came tripping along from the direction of the railway bridge. Pinkie skulked in the riverside vegetation, hoping the Pub Cat would miss her. He seemed in a hurry. Some slight movement caught his eye.
    ‘Been swimming?’ he quipped. ‘You are in a state. But you look almost white again.’
    ‘Did you see the fox?’ Pinkie muttered resentfully.
    ‘I saw him, yes, in that smelly hole he calls his den. He said he’d come tonight if his legs don’t give out first. I knew the promise of meat would entice him. And you’ – Snowy looked Pinkie up and down – ‘you could use a good feed. You come too. At dusk.’
    Pinkie was tempted. ‘I might and I might not,’ she said.
    ‘You will,’ Snowy answered confidently. ‘You can’t afford not to. You’re ravenous. Did you land a fish?’
    ‘How did you . . .? No,’ Pinkie growled.
    ‘Cats don’t readily take to water, do they?’ the Pub Cat said knowingly. ‘Slippery customers, fish. If you’re reduced to fishing to survive, you’ll come tonight.’ He ran on, calling behind him, ‘Don’t carp at my offer.’
    Pinkie was far from amused. She was so uncomfortable she could only think of getting herself dry. The cloudy sky was broken by patches of blue. Gleams of fitful sunshine bathed the riverside here and there. Pinkie, with a cat’s unerring instinct, found the warmest and sunniest place against the high wall. She napped on and off, drowsing as she gradually dried off.
    Unknown to Pinkie, another cat, a stranger to her, was seeking her. Domino, just like the Church Cat, had witnessed the scene between Sammy and his mate. After his latest humiliating brush with the tabby, his lust for revenge was greater than ever. Sammy had wounded him in more than one way and he was determined to get even. He saw Pinkie as the key to his chance of doing it. She too had suffered. Sammy had scorned and insulted her and she must be bitter against him. Domino paced through the gardens, looking everywhere for the little white cat with the soiled coat. Finally he climbed to the top of the wall and looked along it. Pinkie, a white blur against the brickwork, caught his eye. He miaowed to himself with satisfaction. ‘There’s my ally,’ he hissed.

—14—
    After the bunnies
    Pinkie awoke to find a plump vole looking for its own food within pouncing distance. No sooner had she seen it than she slew it and began to eat with tremendous gusto.
    ‘That’s what your mate’s selfishness has brought you to, isn’t it?’
    Pinkie glanced up without interrupting her feeding. Directly above her on the high wall was Domino the black-and-white cat.
    ‘While he feasts you’re famished,’ he continued.
    ‘What’s it to you?’ Pinkie mumbled.
    ‘I thought you might like to even things up a bit.’
    ‘What are you talking about? Why are you so concerned?’ Pinkie demanded.
    ‘Because of this!’ Domino snapped, bending his head so that Pinkie