A story about... An Animal c. 1999/2000 Dan Biemer, Damon Diehl, Rachel Rosenberg, Jack Welch	DAN	DAMON	RACHEL & JACK
				JACK & RACHEL
			RACHEL	DAMON & JACK
				JACK & DAMON
			JACK	DAMON & RACHEL
				RACHEL & DAMON

As she slid forward on the hardwood floors, she desparately extended her front paws and scampered backwards. As her feet swung over her head and her ears scraped along the carpeting at the top of the stairs, she realized that her momentum was too great. Crack, one rib. Crack, her left shoulder. Only evolution and luck allowed her to land on her feet at the base of the stairs.

Shaken and unsteady she stared upward into the light. It shimmered and wavered, as millions of dust particles, thrown up by her precipitous descent through the shag carpet, caroomed through the air. She took a cleansing breath, overriding the pain of the splintered rib. In midbreath, she suddenly choked. She watched in horror as mother of all dust particles slipped into her nose, and she felt it slip its way into her lungs. She wheezed...

. . . she awoke, lying on her back, because Cindy was poking her with a stick.

"Wake up Pouncer," Cindy shouted. "Wake up."

Stupid she-child. Pouncer had suffered much at her hands. She tried to get up and run way, but the sharp pain caused by her cracked rib and shoulder prevented her.

"Mommy! There something wrong wit Pouncer," Cindy called, just before poking Pouncer in the ribs at the precise point where the pain would be greatest. Pouncer screamed and lashed out with her claws, despite the pain, giving Cindy the scratches she deserved. When Cindy let out a cry designed to cave the roof in, her mother, Margaret, came came running. She immediately realized how badly Pouncer was hurt, and gently picked up her kitty and cradled her in one arm, while examining her daughter's scratched hand with the other.

 "It's all right, sweetie, you'll be fine," she said to Cindy. As for Pouncer, she was not sure she could say the same.