Dog Boy by Eva Hornung

Author:Eva Hornung
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 2009-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

It was a daytime hunt in the city. Romochka and Grey Brother trapped the large ginger tom in a cul-de-sac, Romochka’s heart hammering with excitement. He crouched, club extended. Grey Brother crouched too, ready to leap up or flatten his body, depending on what the cat chose to do. The dogs and Romochka generally chased cats on sight—exhilarated by the furry burst of speed as they fled, their fury and violence when cornered—but without real hope of catching one.

The cat stood still, back arched, tail bristling as thick as Romochka’s arm. It bared its puny teeth and spat twice. Romochka giggled and yipped. Yes, that’s what he’d do too, spit and think, spit and think. Grey Brother quivered at each sound it made but held back with uncharacteristic humility, letting Romochka lead. Romochka threw pebbles at the cat to make it choose, but it moved only slightly and kept focus. His heart leapt in delight, his belly jumping. They had a cat cornered, and what a cat!

Then the cat bolted, choosing to go for Romochka, as they always did. He was ready, and, as luck would have it, he felt his club connect. The cat roiled back across the open space before the wall and whipped itself upright in the far corner. There it waited, hooped and spiky, tempting them, daring them to close in so as to shorten their reaction time when it made a run for it. Romochka could see it all, and he held Grey Brother back, making the cat choose again.

It chose Grey Brother. It dashed under him, seemingly straight into his great, downward swinging jaws and descending trap of a body. Then, at the last second, it twisted upwards and wrapped itself, snarling, claws outspread, over Grey Brother’s face.

Grey Brother yelped and staggered up, shaking his head from side to side, blind-staring into ginger belly fur while the cat sank its teeth into his brow. Romochka dropped his club and raced up. He grabbed the cat with both hands and wrenched as hard as he could, pulling five parts of Grey Brother’s face up with the cat.

The cat let go just as suddenly as it had attached itself, twisted, and swiped Romochka across the face. He dropped it and kicked viciously, his rage bubbling up with the blood from the stinging gashes. Grey Brother had lost all reason now and was scrabbling for the cat in the corner. Then he had it in his paws, trying to bring his jaws through its flailing weapons as it yowled, raked him and wriggled free. But it was still trapped and by now Romochka was ready. He kept Grey Brother in check with fierce growls. The cat was his.

It fought with such feistiness, even when exhausted, that Romochka wished it hadn’t died. He would have liked to carry it alive back to the lair, but in the end he killed it almost by accident with a blow to the skull. He was still very proud of himself to be bringing home cat for dinner.

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