The door slammed open.

“What? What happened?” Thomas’s father shouted, his legs still bare, not yet covered in those clothes things they wear. “Is everything okay?”

“Dad!” Thomas yelled again. “Come here! Quick!”

My mind was racing. If I wanted to know what had happened, I could either wait for the events to unfold and let Thomas tell us, or I could risk going into the goose’s enclosure to see for myself.

It didn’t take me long to decide. I hopped through the fence and on the litterfall. After all, with two humans present – one of them who would protect me no matter what – I figured I would probably be fine. Luckily, Ghrruk, Rhugug and Figgug hadn’t ascended yet because of all the noise. If they had, it would’ve been much harder to slip out unnoticed.

Carefully hugging the wall, I approached the kennel’s door, watching as the two humans went inside. I slipped through the black fence and hopped into a corner, hiding behind a small tree growing from a small crack inside the stone.

“Look, Dad!” Thomas exclaimed. “Look!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” his father replied lazily, stretching his arms and yawning.

We were between four walls, with an open enclosure at the end, elevated off the ground and covered by a roof. Inside were pieces of bones and, as I later learned, brittle yellowy sticks called straw. Therein lay the cat, motionless, surrounded by five tiny little kittens. Judging from the way they moved and how small they were, it was obvious they had just been born, perhaps killing their mother in the process.

“Wh– What do we do now?” Thomas stammered, unable to process what he was seeing. He turned his gaze back and forth between the newborns and his father, who was lazily rubbing his eyes and scratching his body. “I – I never expected – I didn’t know –”

“Uh, yeah. What do you want me to say?” his father said with a sigh. “Give me a few minutes to put on my pants and eat breakfast. These newborns won’t go anywhere, so we’ll take them away afterwards.”

“Take them away?” Thomas repeated. “To where?”

Thomas’s father raised an eyebrow and snorted. “To where?” he scoffed. “To chuck them into the canal, that’s where.”

“To – WHAT?” Thomas blurted out.

“Drown ‘em,” his father said bluntly and shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do with those things?” He vaguely gestured at the wriggling creatures. “Raise ‘em or something? Here?”

Thomas hesitated. “Well…”

“Yeah, well, certainly not in the house. The garden’s also out of the question. You’ve already got Mrs. Whibbles and those stupid frogs. What more d’you want? Build a giant cage and buy a lasso to capture that peacock you showed me next time it shows up? Come now. We gotta bag ‘em up and toss ‘em in the water. Ah, don’t look at me like that. It’ll be quick, I promise.”

“No,” Thomas said, his entire body shaking. He glanced at the colorful kittens lying beside their dead mother. “You can’t do that. They’re – they’re just babies!”

His father shrugged again. “So? You’re the one who shot their mom,” he said, barely able to contain his laughter. “I mean, just look at that back leg. That’s where you shot her, right? If that doesn’t look infected as heck, I don’t know what does.”

The father was right. I could now clearly see how swollen the leg was. There was dried blood on her fur as well as something yellow-green. It didn’t look very healthy.

“But I shot her like weeks ago! How could she still have blood oozing from that wound?” Thomas exclaimed.

“Are you deaf? I just told you it’s infected,” his father said, gesturing at the cat with exasperation. “The wound couldn’t heal properly, and it kept opening up. Something nasty must’ve also gotten in her body – that’s why you see all that disgusting pus over there. On top of that, she was pregnant and, well, that didn’t do her any good, did it?”

“I – I didn’t mean to kill a pregnant cat…” Thomas sniffled, unable to look back at the enclosure. “I just t-though that… that…”

Thomas’s father rolled his eyes and sighed. “Doesn’t matter what you thought. That filthy cat came through that hole.” He pointed at our escape hole in the wall. “And gobbled some of your frogs, right? Just like with that stork, you simply protected what was yours.” He put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “You did a good job, son. You just killed six cats with one shot. Very impressive.” He suddenly burst out laughing. “Kill six cats with one shot. What a great idiom!”

Thomas immediately pushed his father’s hand away. “Don’t laugh!” he warned, tears welling up his eyes. “You know I didn’t mean to do that! Why do you always have to be like that?”

“Whatever. I’ll go get a bag.”

When the older man tried to leave, Thomas didn’t move from the kennel’s entrance. “No, you won’t,” he said. “I won’t let you drown those kittens.”

“All right,” his father said with a large grin. “But we don’t have cat food, and I don’t want them in the house or the garden. What now?”

For the first time, I was siding with the father’s decision to keep those cats far, far away from us. The last thing I wanted was to have five more predators – nimble predators that would jump all over the place and chomp down mouthfuls of brethren every single day.

“Now?” Thomas repeated. “I’ll take them home and put them in a cardboard box until I find someone who wants them.”

“Ha! Do you really think anyone would want stray cats? Aren’t there already plenty of them killing birds and other animals across the country?”

Thomas shook his head. “I don’t care,” he said firmly. “I can’t let them die like that. Give me a few days. I’ll find someone.”

For a few moments, they stood there, looking each other in the eye. Even as a frog I could feel the tension in the air.

Finally, the father gave him a nod. “Fine. Three days, or they take a permanent bath in the canal. Got it?” Thomas nodded, and his father left the kennel.

Not long after, Thomas returned with a box, delicately placing each kitten inside before leaving the corpse of the mother behind. I don’t know what compelled me, but I hopped closer to her lifeless body to have a better look.

I’ll never forget how uncanny it felt to stand beside a predator. Beholding her big paws and fangs made me shudder. Even in death, she seemed so ferocious, as if she would jerk away and swallow me whole. The thought alone made me run back. Mrs. Whibbles was still preoccupied with her grain, so I crossed the grass and slipped through the fence without trouble.

As I neared the pond, I saw three frogs desperately searching for something.

“She’s here!” Figgug exclaimed. “Carmine! Carmine! Over here!”

“Yes, yes, I’m all right,” I said.

Ghrruk hopped toward me as I approached and talked very fast. “We looked for you everywhere! Where were you? What were you doing? We thought that fat cat had eaten you, that you were swimming inside her giant belly!”

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” I assured her before explaining everything I had seen, from the distressed pleas I heard during the night to the cat’s condition, and the events that unfolded inside the kennel.

“What?” Ghrruk burst out. “I can’t believe you left our home without even thinking to tell us.”

“Because I knew how you’d react,” I said, reminding her of that time she had berated me for ages. She looked somewhat offended when I did.

“I did that only because I care about you, just like Rhugug and Figgug here,” she retorted. Rhugug and Figgug agreed. “We all care about you. More than you seem to care about us.”

That wasn’t true; I cared deeply about all three of them, Ghrruk most of all. But I didn’t want to extend this conversation any longer than necessary. I very much disliked being the center of attention, especially when problems arose.

“Can we – can we go and take a look?” Rhugug asked timidly, casting a glance at Ghrruk for approval. “At the dead cat, I mean.”

“What? Why?” Ghrruk asked, her eyes flickering in confusion.

Rhugug fiddled with his fingers. “I’m not sure,” he said. “But having a closer look at our predators might help us understand them better. And – and it’s a unique chance, isn’t it? It’s not every day a cat perishes nearby, giving us the opportunity to see it up close, in all its glory.”

Figgug, who had grown shy about traveling far since the loss of his friends, wholeheartedly agreed with Rhugug, to everyone’s surprise. “I wish to see it as well. To lay eyes on the beast that devoured my best friends.”

All eyes were turned on Ghrruk. She hesitated, but ended up waving her eyes.

“I suppose we could,” she said. “Quickly, though. We don’t know if or when another cat might sneak out of the hole.”

 

* * *

 

When we returned home, we talked about the fallen beast until the last rays of sunlight faded, much longer than anyone expected. Many frogs gathered to hear our tale, some even leaving to take a look at the cat themselves. Upon their return, they were in awe. The experience of seeing a predator up close had clearly made a lasting impression on them.

“Did you see her fangs?” one frog said.

“And how big her body was?” another exclaimed.

“There’s no way any of us could escape such a creature,” a third whimpered.

Darkness fell and the frogs went to sleep, leaving the four of us to nestle between the rocks, as usual. But I couldn’t find rest. Not after everything that had happened. I waited for my three brethren to doze off before ascending to reflect on the day, on life, and on the uncertain future, both within and beyond the walls. To our potential journey through the hole.

Then, a sound came from the house. I climbed higher and saw Thomas, holding a light in one hand, heading toward the kennel once more.

Did he forget one of the kittens? I wondered for an instant, but dismissed the thought. Can’t be. I saw him take them all, and so many other frogs went to see the corpse. None of them mentioned a kitten being left behind.

Curiosity got the better of me and I followed his trail. Each step made me increasingly uneasy. Every shadow in the night made me think that yet another predator was about to catch me. I forced myself to stay calm and tried to forget these bad thoughts.

Finally, I reached the kennel, just as Thomas arrived and headed to the end of the garden. The cat’s body was dangling in his arms. Hopping with all my strength, I followed him, until he stopped near some bushes, the very spot where he had buried the bird some time ago.

Thomas dug a hole with his trowel and gently placed the cat inside. He covered it with dirt and whispered a few words.

“May your soul rest in peace,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I shot you. I really am. It’s just that… I wanted to protect my frogs and… and…” Tears were rolling down his cheeks. Thomas seemed to be in a lot of pain. Not physically, but in his mind. Mental pain, as he had so often explained.

I stayed, hidden behind a few dandelion leaves, listening as he sobbed and prayed, paying his respects to what once was a fierce predator within this garden. Unlike Thomas, I felt no sorrow. In fact, I struggled to understand why Thomas felt so much guilt killing the beast. If not for him and his stick, we would have been chased not by one predator, but by six. None of us frogs would have survived for long.

Eventually, Thomas stood up and left. I hopped closer to the grave and noticed that the cat was buried right beside the bird it had killed. Both lay beneath the earth now, where worms would feast upon them. It made me think about life. How everything seemed to revolve around food.

You either feed or get fed upon. But ultimately, we all become food for worms.

What an odd thing to think about. We fed on worms that fed on the dead, only for us to be consumed by them once we perished. It was like an endless cycle of consumption.

On my way to the pond, I became aware of how little I truly knew about life. It kept me awake for a while, until I accepted that not everything needs to be known. As I had told Ghrruk, Rhugug and Figgug: what will happen, will happen. No matter what we try to do, it is simply the way of life.