Cat Nip Part XII

I’m not much for taking other people’s word for anything, so after I polished off the basket of food Ivers had delivered, I decided to do some investigating. I looked dumbly at the pile of chicken bones on my plate, and the empty tub of potatoes. I’d eaten wings, thighs, and breast, three rolls and even the butter that he’d packed.

The odd thing was I felt like I could eat more. Still, pleasantly full, almost purring with contentment that was unearned, I loosed the curious side of my nature.

Clarence was just as leery of stopping on the road in the daylight, as he had been the night before. I insisted, climbing down from the buggy with alacrity now that I was here.

The place that the cat had laid was scuffed, and drops of blood dotted the landscape. I crouched next to the show on the ground, and lifted a tuft of hair from sage brush where it had caught.

I smelled it. I don’t know why. It just seemed like another piece of information, the scent, so to speak. I didn’t really think that the aroma of cat would cling that long, or that I’d smell it if it did.

I was wrong. The scent nearly knocked me on my rump. And not in a bad way either. My body’s response was immediate. My breath caught and my lungs froze at the same time that cold chills were followed by hot waves of sensation never experienced before.