Hissy Fitz Read Online Free

and forth with it. Which makes me even nastier.
    HSSSSSSSSSS! RRROWRRRR! HSSSSSSSSS!
    I’m scaring myself.
    Finally, my claw comes free. I slash at the girl’s foot and catch the lace again. Not so smart, I know, but I can’t help it. I’m furious.
    The girl screams again. “It’s crazy! It won’t leave me alone!”
    “Kick off your shoe!” one of the other kids says.
    The girl pries the shoe off with her other foot, then backs away. I’m left with the shoe. I slide my claw out of the lace, then pull the shoe underneath me and settle down on top of it.
    I purr.
Prrrrrrrrrrr
.
    “It has my shoe!” the girl says.
    A boy from the group steps forward and waves his hand at me. “Shoo! Shoo!”
    RRROWRRRR!
I say, and glare at him with my fiery yellow eyes.
    “Leave it alone,” another kid says. “Let’s just walk away. A cat can’t carry a shoe.”
    Is that so?
    If I can carry a rat by the tail, which I can, I can carry a shoe by the lace.
    I bite back into it and stand up. The shoe is heavier than a rat, so, instead of carrying it, I drag it away.
    “It’s stealing my shoe!” the girl says.
    “That cat
is
crazy!” the boy says.
    After a few strides, however, I tire of dragging the stinky old shoe. I mean, what am I going to do with it? I won this battle. I let it drop, then walk away with my head held high. I don’t look back.

10.
Rampage!
    I hiss at dogs. Swat at cats. Scream at children. Growl at old people. They call me crazy. Mad. Insane. Wild. And they’re right. I’m everybody’s worst nightmare, and I will continue to be until everybody gets quiet and lets me sleep.
    I wander around the town. I chase squirrels and birds in the parks. I catch a mouse, play with it a while, then eat it. I screech at noisy gulls and sailors at the marina. I hiss at the roaring waves from the rocky beach. I walk down the busy, wide sidewalks of Downtown like I own them.
    Some of the people know me.
    “Looks like Hissy is on another rampage,” one woman says to another.
    “Watch out! It’s Hissy Fitz! He scratches!” a man says, nudging his wife out of harm’s way.
    I like it this way. I like being left alone.
    Some people, though, don’t know me, so I have to show them who’s boss of the sidewalk. I growl and glare, and they get out of my way. I give the foolish few who don’t a taste of my fury.
    HSSSSSSSSSS! RRROWRRRR! GRRRRRRRRRR!
    I don’t mind having to teach them to respect me.
    None of this helps me with my problem, of course. Quite the opposite. The more upset I get, the less likely it is that I’ll be able to sleep. In addition, this exercise makes me hungry and thirsty.
    I head for the Dumpsters.
    There are rows of big garbage bins behind all the restaurants Downtown. And there are quite a few restaurants. And many of those restaurantsserve fish. And some of that perfectly good fish gets thrown away. Not all of the Dumpsters are open, though, and the lids are too heavy for a cat to budge. I find one open behind the Salty Cod and dive in. I come out with a chunk of salmon in my mouth. I duck under some bushes and wolf it down. Real salmon sure beats Salmon Supper.
    As I often do on these adventures, I start thinking about giving up being a house cat. I think about going wild. Feral. About living outside full time.
    But I know I can’t. For one thing, most cats that go wild don’t live long. There are too many perils. Cars. Truly wild animals, like coyotes and raccoons. I’m out on a limb here, roaming the town, acting as if nothing can hurt me.
    And then there are the Fitzes. True, they drive me crazy. But Abe and Mom are kind to me. Dad makes a terrible racket, but he means well. And Georgie … well, she needs me, of course. She’d be heartbroken if I left. I guess I would be, too.
    Zeb I could live without.
    The sun is now low in the sky. Mom is probably home. She has a way of calming Zeb down. Before long it will be the humans’ bedtimes, and the house will finally quiet down. Maybe,