Speaking Directly to Bats is Simply Unforgivable
Lord Hannibal gives vital guidance to young Cats
A group of five young cats. None of them more than two years old. Neatly huddled together. So not quite bold enough to be city cats, but with none of the edgy watchfulness that country cats and housecats have when they come to the park. So that leaves the suburbs.
As is customary, only one of the group may speak directly to me. Their chosen ambassador comes awkwardly forward. An orange, unremarkable little fellow. Not at all alpha-like. I'm guessing that he was bullied by the rest to take on the job of addressing me.
“I am called Ranger, Lord Hannibal, Overlord, Clawed One, Fanged One, Death-Bringer to Bird and Rodent, Descendent of the Most Worshipped Cats of Egypt, Keeper of all Cat Wisdom and August Defender of Catism. I have need of your ear.”
