Buford finally stopped the truck, and unfastened the cat carrier. Then he nonchallantly swung the carrier back
and forth as he strode over to the barn. Chad was freaking out. He was being tossed around inside the box
like a rag doll on ship in a storm. He was yowled.
Buford chuckled.
"Oh, c'mon, Chad, ya'are a cat now. Get used to it. Be the best mouser ya can, an' I make make ya a man agan."
Chad quieted down. He claws dug into the canvas wall of the carrier to keep him from flying around inside.
The place reeked of cow manure. He crinkled his nose. Through the grill of his cage, he saw a dark furry
creature scamper through the hay. He opened his mouth. It was watering. His hunting instincts were kicking in.
His eyes followed his prey to a dark corner and lost it. His stomach grumbled.
"Well, Chad, you might as well get acquainted with the barns," Buford said setting the cage down on a pile of
straw. He walked over to a cow and started to milk her by hand. He just got a little bit - enough for the
saucer he poured the bucket into. Chad licked his chops. Buford unlatched the cage. Chad readied himself to
leap from his prison and claw Buford's eyes out.
"Now, Chad, you don't want to do anything stupid, do you? Or you'll never be a man again?" warned Buford as
he opened the door.
Chad raised his clawed paw, flexed it, and lowered it. Then he sauntered out of the cage and into the barn
like he owned the place.
Buford laughed. He slid the warm milk over to Chad.
"Eat up, boy. I'll be back in a few hours. Let's see if you can catch a mouse while I'm gone. Oh, and if you
run off, or don't come when I call - then you're spending the night in here."
Buford got up and stalked off without even looking back. Chad the cat extended his middle claw at his
retreating master, and then started to lap up his milk.
He had been lapping for a minute or two when he heard a noise. The rat was back. He watched it out of the
corner of his eye peering through the rails in the stall. Then he turned and leaped between the rails. The
rat was fast, and he knew where he was going. Soon Chad found himself stuck between some planks of wood and
the barn wall. It took him a while to work his cat body back out his situation. The rat was long gone. He
headed back to his bowl of milk, and let out a roar. The rat and a dozen of its kin were gathered around his
bowl. They took off in record time. His bowl was empty. It had been a ruse.
He chased the vermin hither and yon for the better part of an hour, before he calmed himself down. Being a
mouser was harder than he expected. It was getting cold, so he buried himself in the straw. Then he lay there
very still. A young brown rat scampered cautiously along the wall. Chad resisted leaping up, the rat was too
far away. He needed it closer. He waited and then he sprang out. The rat fought, but Chad's teeth locked in
on its neck. There was a cracking sound. Blood spurted out. Chad had killed his first rat.
"Hey, Chad, front and center!" shouted Buford.
Chad grabbed the rat in his mouth and carried it to his waiting master.
"Good, boy, Chad, we'll make a mouser of you yet!"