Asphalt Eden
Ben Sullivan
Metal monsters roamed the asphalt streets. I am a male feline, but somewhere along the line I woke up dazed without my sense of masculinity. Humans believed that my black coloration brings bad luck, yet they failed to notice the splotch of white on my chest. For the first four years of my life, I lived on the streets. As I look back, I envy the cat I once was, yet at the time I did not fully appreciate the joys and freedoms of my life. The streets of Baltimore entertained me, nurtured me, and formed me into the cat I am today.
The streets of Baltimore spelled adventure at every turn. The alleys run rampant with rats and mice. From time to time, I would amuse myself by chasing the rodents back into their dark dens. On the occasion when black cats had luck, I would have a plump rat for supper. However, birds constitute the ultimate prize. Many a day I spent lurking in the shadows, stalking my prey. Birds swoop down and peck frantically at the ground until they find a worm. The difficulty lies in the ambush not in the reconnaissance. Learned birds move quickly and sleep with one eye open. From the cover of bushes, I observe the hurried dance of the birds. Once they turn their backs, I pounce breaking the silence of my advance. Feathers flying, I snag the succulent fowl. The half-dead birdies make comfortable pillows as I inhale the wind’s sweet scents. Later, the birdies become sweet treats.