by Stacey Foxworthy

Created on: November 08, 2008

I walked the mean, lonely streets of Jersey
at night. Dining from dumpsters situated behind local restaurants I sought shelter in the darkness of abandoned buildings and alley ways. I was a rebel...a kitty without a cause. No one would dare tangle with me for they knew I was bad to the bone. I was a creature of the night.

I enjoyed the adrenaline rush of a good fight having learned the hard way how to look out for number one. I prowled the city streets with incredible stealth dodging the law at every turn. On many occasions they would round us feral beasts up and throw our degenerate bodies behind prison walls, claiming a pestilence had been removed from the world. I always managed to escape from these hellish situations.

On the streets I was known as the escape artist. No cage could hold me...nobody could tame me. I was wild and free, a creature that scoffed at authority and walked a dangerously fine line.

The feline ladies adored me...authority figures loathed me...all the other male cats wanted to be me as I would strut my stuff defiantly down the cold, dark alleys and lonely streets of Jersey. I was considered a menace...stirring up trouble every chance I had, serving as a bad influence and terrible role model for the younger generation. I defied the law and laughed in the face of death.

My slick black coat and emerald green eyes portrayed me as an ominous being and accentuated my tough exterior. Muscles rippled beneath my thick skin as I continued to walk the treacherous, forsaken streets alone. I had to fight for every scrap of food I came across, for every decent living space, and just to stay alive. I braved the deadly elements and struggled to maintain my position as leader of the night. I had been hardened by my time spent on the streets of no tomorrow.

When it was necessary I would work my feline charms on some unsuspecting, gullible human. Enamored with me they would take a poor, defenseless cat under their wing, feed me, care for me, and love me until I decided, of my own volition, to move on. The streets were the only place I truly felt at home. I never like to stay in one place for too long. Like I said...I was a rebel, no one could tame my feral heart. I was born to roam as a free spirit...to live on the streets of despair and fight for mere survival every waking moment.

Rounding the corner into a dark alley I frequented often I came face to face with a marauding canine. He had wondered haphazardly upon my turf. As he stared at me hungrily with rage

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