Board Thread:Archive/@comment-24866242-20140517080038/@comment-24866242-20140517082301

Katrylle Morgahn posted July 25, 1996 02:31 AM

(Hooterman T. Mudflap)

To be perfectly honest he couldn't say he was to pleased with the current situation. He didn't mind riding round with Sally in that giant clod hopper. For the most part he had just remained in her quarters back at the old place, curled up amongst the parts that filled the majority of the room. At his age he could really care less about who was about, and where they went. The scent of mutt had been filed in the back of his mind as had the scent's of other cats. And now there was new territory. Just as the old tom had gotten use to one place she had pulled up stakes and planted them into this place that smelled of nothing but new, new, new. Standing the grizzled old orange tom stretched, his sharp claws embedded into the carpet that covered the concrete floor at the corner of the stall that housed the clod hopper, the muscles along his back flexing, ending in the tip of his chopped tail quivering.

Some god awful noise had disturbed his sleep and he weren't to pleased with the fact. The orange tom peered around the corner of the stall, his ears twitching, yellow eyes narrowed as he searched the large bay area, the tip of what remained of his tail flicking in irritation. Patch's stall was just out of the old tom's line of sight, but the mutt bearing down on it's target told him where ta look first. Keeping close to the edges of the stalls that separated him and the prime objective, crouching low in stalking form he crept forward.

Just as Hooterman was about to round the corner into Patch's stall, the tabby burst out with a orange ball of fluff hanging from it's mouth with the mutt in hot pursuit. A growl rose in the tom's throat, not from having been startled but from his plan of actions being disrupted. Turning suddenly, suprisingly for a cat his age, in all likelihood at least five years on those currently present, he bound after Sachy and Orion. Skidding to a halt, his back arching, his fur rising to bristle, hissing loudly, as Chaz dives over him. Only his quick reactions letting him avoid the scattering of parts in the wake of the mutt. His ears laid back against his skull as he swipes extended claws to Chaz's leg from where the man hides before turning and bounding after the tabby/fur ball combination and Orion, his gait easy, almost relaxed but set with determination.

Hooterman didn't need to hurry to keep up with the party ahead of him. All he had to do was follow the scent. Firstly the scent of, I meant ta do this, I meant to do this, obviously of feline persuasion, secondly the scent of, When I find those damn cats I'm gonna show them what for and who's the boss, obviously of the canine persuasion. And he was right, his ears turned forward hearing the god awful sneeze, though he couldn't be sure, he still shuddered down the whole length of his body at the thought of being the target the sneeze might have found. Slowing his steady gait he advanced toward the dead end corridor, one halting step at a time. He had one advantage over the cat's he had found also resided with the two leggers, he was an old tom, most of his life had been spent living in alley ways, scrounging through trash can's for what ever scraps of food might be found. And fighting as though your life depended on it, which in most cases it did. His ears torn from many cat fights, his tail shortened not one but twice by dogs thinking that was the way to capture him, his face covered with a multitude of scars. He certainly what one would ever consider a pretty, pampered cat, and he liked that just fine.

Rounding the corner he assessed the situation. Cat and kitten, pinned in corner, no obvious route of escape. Mutt, sitting keeping his opponents thusly cornered with a soft growl that had the very air of.. "I am the dog... Yer just the cat... What I say goes.". Granted this mutt weren't of the ilk of mongrel that favored the dark alleys, but a mutt was a mutt. Silently he made his way behind the mutt, his ears laid back, his fur bristled, yellow eye's narrowed, crouching low, a growl began deep in his throat. He watched with satisfaction seeing the mutt's ears turn toward the sound, knowing that soon head would follow. As Orion turned to contemplate this newest feline with a snort of disdain, Hooterman arched his back, his fur bristling further, the growl that escaped his throat turning to a vicious hiss, as he prepared to either stare down the mutt or lose another inch or two of tail. Sachy taking advantage of the situation snuck past, the kitten still held tight by the scruff of the neck in the hope's that this stranger could maintain Orion's attention, debating on whether to hang around and watch the show that was sure to break out, or to high tail it out of the immediate vicinity.