A Deadly Chomp

I have soft paws, like mittens. But the thing is, I have pretty sharp teeth. When I play with my family, I tend to latch on with my fangs, and my mittens don't soften the blow. I wish they did. I love to play, but my humans always think I'm a brute.

At night when they're all asleep, I play with my mouse. It's this plush, purple little fluff of fur with a tail—a poor imitation at best, but I love it all the same. I chomp down and carry it around between my teeth. A glorious violet trophy I weild like a knight's sword. Since they're asleep already, I have to shout to get my family's attention. My cries are short and fierce.

I make my way to the living room, and sit front and center. There's a balcony overlooking me where my family can get a glimpse of my song. When the first meow rings out, I glance upward and see who emerges. If no one does, I continue, and march about with my prize.

"Chomper!" I hear from above, "go to sleep, kitty." No. I will not go to sleep. I'm a nocturnal prince of black and white, and I demand to be seen.

I swish my tail lazily, and continue my ranting. My talkative chirps hover in the air just long enough to tug at the ears—spark irritation.

"What are you doing down there, cat?" I hear from the next room over. A cheerful yet mischievous chitter escapes my furry lips, and I spring to my feet. I set my mouse on the rug affectionately as I feel the zoomies threatening to overtake me. It's always around this time they start. Always so late at night, but I know my humans think it's awesome.

My plump frame lurching from side to side like an off-balance water balloon, I charge up half the stairs, and slink back down. I leap onto the back of the couch, knead my fluffed feet into the feathery lining of the pillows, and then I spring back off again. I lift my tail in the air as I sprint, puffed and arched behind me like a snake. I feel ferocious and terrifying—scarier than any old snake.

My mouse watches from its spot on the floor. I run past it a few times. I stop before it here and there to give it a satisfying whack across the room. At least, it always feels like it'll sail across the room. I only ever manage a few feet. My mouse has a special feature on it too. If I clasp it between my delicate little paws, I can pull on its tail with my mouth. This makes the mouse move. I don't know how, but it really freaked me out the first time I figured it out.

When the energy has ceased, I'm finally ready for a night nap. I'll fall asleep exceedingly late and wake before anyone else stirs. I enjoy watching the house, wandering the dark halls and exploring the hideouts my family would otherwise keep me from. When they sleep, I have my chance to lick the houseplant leaves, smush myself under beds and chairs. I can walk over keyboards, play a marching song on the old piano and bask in the glow of the twinkling stars perched atop each windowsill.

This house is my castle, my family royalty. I am the knightly prince that watches and protects. With my nimble feet, I can take intruders by surprise. With my sharp teeth and swiftness, I carry the strength of ten towering men.

My name is Chomp, and while I look innocent as a marshmallow, I am formidable as a bear and my teeth never miss a chance at biting.