You've met Miss Beazley before. She is a cat. She
is big, she is old, she is wise, and she is the boss. She is "Queen
of the Clowder." She rules the alley between Archer Boulevard and
Parkside Avenue.
Snow
was coming down hard in her alley this morning - trash cans and
dumpsters buried in white. Everything was quiet on this Christmas
morning. Miss Beazley was on the prowl for a good meal in her
snow-covered alley
domain.
There's breakfast, Beazley
thought, spotting a small mouse shivering from the cold, huddled in
the corner of one of
the tenement building doorways.
Hunger gnawed the stomach, but pity pulled the heart.
Why do I feel this way? Mice
have always been my mainstay diet, she
thought, approaching
furtively.
The mouse saw the cat but was too cold and too scared
to run. Stuck in the corner,
the mouse was blocked with no escape possible. One move would be
sure death.
Beazley crouched ready to pounce; the mouse quaked in
fear. Then Miss Beazley stood up and smiled. "I'm hungry, but
today is Christmas, and I can find another meal in these trash cans.
You have a Merry Christmas."
The mouse stared in startled disbelief. This was an
unusual cat. Of course, she was unusual. She was the queen, and
this alley was her domain. She could afford to be a magnanimous ruler
on this cold, snowy Christmas morning.
"Let's see if there are some fish remains in the
garbage can behind Duffy's Tavern", Beazley said to her
followers, "I think fish would be a better Christmas dinner than
mice".
The other cats gave a funny look but followed her
lead. Not one dared go after that mouse. Today would be a good
Christmas for all.
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