Riley? Who’s Riley?

MFtS

Photo courtesy of Barbara W. Beacham at MFtS

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Now this is living the life of Riley, thought Tom, stretching out on the silk brocade cushion that was placed to take advantage of the sunlight streaming in through the window.

But Riley doesn’t live here anymore, he thought. Three nights ago Tom had seen to that. Coyotes don’t care how mean a cat is, they know they’re meaner. Tom was now the Fat Cat at Missus Murphy’s. That was her name, Missus Murphy, but the cats who lived here just called her “She”.

Tom believed that “She” had been appointed by the goddess Bastet to care for all cats. She had even tried to care for Riley, and nobody even liked him. He always hogged the tuna that “She” brought. He always hogged her lap too.

Tom wouldn’t be that cat. He would take the pillow, sure, because it was so nice and he would share his tuna with that sleek Persian, Priscilla. She was nice too.

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