Star
4
Star was disappointed when the bird tricked her to look up. Scents told that he was behind the statue of the two-legs. Star was also being attacked by the world-wide-known-enemy, a dog. Star whipped out her claws and turned around and over, exposing her belly. The dog saw her fault and tried to bite it. Star’s hind paws snapped the lower jaw shut. The dog gave a yelp of surprise and backed away before realizing that the she-cat could flip back over. And Star did just that. Then, dropping low to avoid her being flipped over by her opponent.
“Don’t surprise me like that.” She hissed. The dog about to jump relaxed his muscles.
“Sorry.” he whimpered,
“I just got free of my bad masters.”
“Excuse me?” Star meowed confused.
“The furless ones that walk on two.”
“Oh, you mean the two-legs.”
The dog paused as if deciding what to say.
“You could put it that way.”
He seemed to conclude.
“I came to hunt, because I disliked the tasteless pellets.”
Star mumbled “Hum him” but the dog didn’t seem to pick it up.
“Well, I suppose we’re friends, right?” the dog asked.
“Sure, I ca…” She mewed but the dog broke off her words barking,
“Great, I mean…, I wouldn’t tell you my name unless I was sure, but the name’s Sploch.”
Star gave him a look that made his tail drop.
“I was going to say…” she hissed. But was interrupted by rustling of feathers.
“Well, can you now be kind to the victim that was going to be lunch? I know you are getting all friendly talking about ‘Masters’ and ‘Two-legs’ which seems to be featherless birds…” he cooed.
“Why don’t we make our own club?” Sploch barked breaking off the chattering.
“Sure a dog, and a cat, and a chit chat pigeon.’” Star grumbled, “At least that broke off his speech.”
Sploch
5
It seemed that the cats did have some senses. That ‘Chit chat pigeon’ was bothering him. Swallowing his saliva he panted,
“Well, cat I think you ought to tell us what you come by.” Which he thought was the fancy way to say you have some business to say. The cat seemed to catch what he meant.
“Thanks Sploch,” she purred, “In the meantime, my name is Star.”
That name fits. Sploch thought.
“I was tired of eating dried meat with no blood, so I went here, the place to spot for pigeon.”
Sploch wanted to hear her story, so he began to step forward.
“I will state and tell some of my story later.” She hissed. Sploch put his paw back. Then the pigeon began to talk,
“Well, am I in the club?” he pestered. Sploch growled,
“The club doesn’t even have a name yet.”
Star stepped forward,
“Well, I’m sure Sploch will let you in as soon as he finds out the name, which Sploch should be the founder of, since he thought of the idea.” She purred. Sploch hated the idea about thinking one up alone so instead he barked,
“Why don’t we think up some ideas and vote,” he paused to think what to say next. “Since two isn’t enough to vote, pigeon may vote.” He concluded. The sharp tongue of Star spoke his unspoken words mewing,
“Pigeon isn’t a proper name, pigeon, so what is your name?” When she spoke, she snapped at the words pigeon like they were a tasty treat. But the pigeon didn’t mind, he seemed delighted that he was asked to speak.
“Talke is my name…”
“Talk?” Sploch asked puzzled. The pigeon was furious that his words had been cut short.
“T-A-L-K-E” snapped Talke, making a T, with his body, then an, A, L, K, E when he spoke the letter that represents it.
“ Not T-A-L-K.” he continued, but not forming the letters. He seemed pleased that he made the letters of his name with his body.
Talke
6
Talke was very pleased with his formation of the letters. Ideas for club names were eating his birdbrain.
“I think should be…” Talke turned and rested his head on his right shoulder to think which idea he should share first.
“C.D and Feathers or D.P.C. Which means Dog Pigeon, Cat.”
Star yowled, “I like the letters represents! I vote for D.P.C.”
Sploch rooted, “D.P.C.!” then he leaped up onto the highest point he could on the fountain. Talke thought it would be polite, so he cautiously sat down besides star.
“Welcome to D.P.C.!” Sploch opened with a mighty bark,
“We welcome Star, and Talke to this wondrous club.”
“Why don’t you give us the warning of joining first?” Star meowed looking scarred.
“Great idea!” silently followed by,
“Do you still want to join?”
Talke nodded, Star nodded slowly.
Looking pleased, Sploch continued.
“When you join D.P.C., you look after each other, hunting, and caring for wounds, and merely sticking together.” He was looking far away, but then Talke felt that he was looking at them in a stare.
“When you join however, you must be cautioned of not being able to eat or attack each other with weapons out. But play attacks are allowed. If you agree, say ‘Aye’.”
“Aye,” Star purred.
“I?” Talke confusedly said.
“Grrreat! Tomorrow we venture out of town,” panted Sploch, who seemed hoarse after his speech. With a great leap, Sploch landed behind them, hoarsely wheezing for breath. Star turned around to follow and Talke flapped silently, all afternoon was gone, the sun leaving hazy light as the stars began lighting as if they were being turned on, one by one.
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