Why Cat's Eyes Glow
The huntress slips through a grassy glade unseen. Her fur is dark, her ears perked. She holds her tail up elegantly.
Ahead the mouse sniffs the wind. Senses something, but can't tell whether the breeze brings good tidings or bad.
Bad tidings for you, little mouse. Luck for the dark huntress, you little furry one with the oversized teeth and twitchy tail. She's hungry, so are you. You eat plants, but she eats meat.
A cloud hiding the moon scatters slowly. Silver light shines on the huntress's fur, makes her eyes glow emerald. The mouse is illuminated in white for a moment. She sees that it has its back to her.
Claws from velvet and a swift pounce—mouse in the air and a cat's laugh. Cruel huntress tosses her meal from paw to paw, killing a little bit of the mouse at a time. But just as she is almost through playing with her new toy, golden light shines in from another source.
Good tidings, little mouse. Night's daughter has been called inside for a bowl of Cat Chow, leaving you dazed and frightened but unharmed.
The mouse scurries away into the grass, away from the huntress's haven.
Meanwhile a woman picks up lil' Fluffy-kins and goes back into the RV, her voice alive with chatter about yummy din-din for kitty.
Over the woman's shoulder, Fluffy sends a cat's glare into the night. Her eyes are the color of jealousy.
Fluffy envies her ancestors. Ages and ages ago, even before the Egyptians began worshiping cats, that was when felines were able to catch and kill their *own*food. They were strong, independent creatures; some had teeth the size of kitchen knives!
Fluffy thinks of herself as a useless creature. Why so small? Such tiny claws. All she is good for around here is killing mice and eating din-din.