“Your Majesty!” said the messenger coming into the royal tent, “foreign dignitaries have come bearing gifts for your greatness. They wish to pay tribute.”

“I shall allow it,” said the King.

Moments later, foreigners, escorted by the King’s guards, came in with a big treasure chest.

“Thank you for allowing us your time, your grace,” said one of the dignitaries.

The King said nothing, just gave a slight nod while remaining rested in his chair.

The foreigners opened the treasure chest and showed a big fish head made of gold.

POOOM!

A sound from nearby woke the small, black kitten from its slumber.

It promptly got up from the fish bones it was resting upon.

“What was that noise?“ thought the kitten.

It exited the small hole by the lake and took a look around.

Morning had long past and the sun was now shinning brightly upon the lake.

POOOM!

The kitten heard the noise again. There were a group of humans jumping into the lake.

Once it noticed the humans were male, it avoided them. Though the girls of the human race were always kind and gentle towards small black kittens, you could never know what the males would do. Experience had taught him wisdom.

Victory and failure come and go, but hunger never ceases, so the small, black kitten once again ventured out for food to fill its stomach.

“Yo Scratch! Come over ‘ere,” said a big, fat old grey cat.

“Greetings, Lump,” said the small, black kitten.

“You heard the news?” said Lump.

“No, what has happened?” said Scratch.

“You won’t believe it! Last night I heard that the humans over at the restaurant just started tossing mountains of fresh prey out the window! I wish I was there but I was napping,” said Lump.

Scratch scratched its small, black kitten face while in thought. It was this frequent mannerism that earned it its nickname.

“I was there last night but I did not see them throw any food out,” an image of the chef rushing towards Scratch appeared in his mind, “I find it rather hard to believe that kitchen would ever have any generosity towards our kind.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s just a rumour,” said Lump.

“It would certainly be pleasant if true, but as a man relying upon charity I disagree with. I find even thievery even more honourable because with that profession you do not have to depend upon the whims of human emotions for your survival,” said Scratch.

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The big old cat and the small kitten made a little more kit-kat, then said farewell and parted ways.

Lump had the luxury of a hom where he could count upon regular feed, hence his fatness, wherefrom his name came. But Scratch didn’t have that luxury.

Scratch had always been alone. Even its earliest memories were of him alone. He did have very, very vague memories of struggling for a nipple to suck on, but after that all he could remember was being without mother nor siblings. Not that it bothered him. To surivive as a small kitten in this dangerous world he never had the time to dwell on the past and his solitude.

“I won’t go back to the restaurant today. It seems too risky. For now I should be cautious. But perhaps I should use my newfound advantage,” Scratch thought, while scratching his face and thinking back on the ingenuity he used to go through the small window.

And so he spent a little time roaming through human communities, until he saw in the window very high up in an apartment complex, a small girl playing with a doll.

The girl was very high up, and no cat would dare climb up there. But Scratch was hungry.

“Meowww!” heard the small girl. She stopped playing with her doll and looked out the window.

“Oh my god! A kitten!“ she screamed in joy.

“It would appear she is pleasantly surprised. This new strategy is genius,” thought Scratch.

The small, black kitten scratched at the window. The small girl then ran over to the window, opened it up, and grabbed the kitten.

“I’ve been alone for hours! I feel so lonely! Maybe god sent you? My parents are both at work. You’re so cute!” said the girl.

Scratch wanted food immediately, but decided that it would be a better course of action to let the girl play with him so as to grow her affection, which in turn would promise more food. Delayed gratification was a skill Scratch was perfecting.

“You’re so small! We have to feed you! Though not too much, you don’t wanna end up like me,” said the girl with a sad tone. She was slightly chubby.

Scratch could feel her sadness, and nuzzled up against her. She promptly smiled and scratched beneath his neck which he found quite pleasant and rawred.

“You’re so cute, I love you… Your name from now on is Kitty.”

Scratch immensely disliked that name. He found it too feminine for his proud lion self-image.

After eating more than he had ever eaten like a king, Scratch took a nap on the girl’s lap.