I sat in the Director’s office on the white mat.
I wasn’t shaking in fear. I was mad.
The Director said, “You’d be a great dress-up cat.”
“No. I’d hate it. How do you act with a turban on? Or ballet shoes?”
He paced in front of me. “Then you’ll keep on being a fraidy-cat. Everyone loves that.”
“Except me. I want to be a Fight-cat,” I said.
His eyes got big. His face wrinkled big. “Yowza. Fight what? Ferrets?”
A popular KittyTube video this week was “Ferret v. Cat.” It featured Wesley Maine Coon, who was so big that the ferret didn’t have a chance.
I shook my head. “No. I want a different kind of fight. Me against the world.”
“Why?” the Director yelled. “You’re adding wrinkles to my skin every day, Angel.”
I knew what he thought.
I was white and couldn’t get dirty.
I was small. My face was too sweet.
“Why not?” I asked.
Inside, I was quivering. But not outside. This time, I had to stand my ground. “It’s opposite of what you expect. That’s good. I’ll surprise everyone.”
“How? I don’t even know how to do an ‘Angel v. The World’ video.”
“We’ll figure it out. Together,” I said.
The Director raised his face to the sky and yowled, “Yowzal!”
I hoped that meant I’d get to fight.
If we could figure out what that meant.