Retractable

The pack circled him, cracking their knuckles and snickering. "We are Wolf, little thief," said their muscular leader. "Whose are you? You stink of Tiger."

"Cat," said the thief. "House-cat."

The Wolves roared with laughter. "Little puss-puss!" one cried. "Shall we fetch some milk?"

The leader plucked at the thief's hand. "Such soft, velvet pads!" he chuckled.

The thief smiled. There was a blur of motion, and the pack leader staggered back, clutching at his spilling innards.

"The first lesson Cat teaches," said the thief, leaping atop the fence with one bloodied hand, "is this: the claws are always there."

The Kitties Play a Game

When I woke up, my cats were staring at me intently. That's pretty normal. The feathers on their heads were new, though. Also the handcuffs on my wrists and ankles.

"Oh, great god Quetzacoatrack!" said Boots. Talking was new, too. "We give to you this puny human! Eat his heart, oh wingy sir pants-"

"Hold on," said Smokey. "I thought we were Indians."

"Native Americans," I corrected automatically.

"Whatever," said Smokey. "But, like, bravos and Tony Hawks and stuff."

"Whatever," hissed Hambone. "As long as they cut out hearts."

"Indians do scalps," Boots said.

"Hearts or get the fuck out."

Business as Usual

"I need you to stay late tonight," said Mr. Whiskers. "End of quarter is coming up. We really have to catch that red dot."

"You can't catch the red dot because the dot isn't there!" said Ted, holding his face in his hands. "It comes from the laser pointer. It's just light."

Mr. Whiskers blinked and flexed his claws. "I know that, Ted, but that doesn't change the fact that the quarter is ending. Our stockholders want to see that dot caught."

"You could do this to dogs, you know. Turn the tables completely."

"Yes," said Mr. Whiskers. "We know."

Loyalty

"He's dead..." Garif clutched at the crumbling cliff edge.

"Most likely," said This-Cat.

"It's terrible!"

"I agree. There's no way to recover the body. He'd pad our stores by days."

Garif goggled at This-Cat. "You'd eat him?"

"Of course. Just as I'd eat you." This-Cat stared at Garif levelly. "I hope you'd eat me, if it came to it. More efficient, really; you can carry my meat, where I'd have to leave you after eating my fill."

He walked on. When Garif failed to follow, This-Cat glanced back. "Our ways are not your ways, ape. Honor the dead by living."