The Catfight That Saved His Life

The end of my life was near. I could feel it in my bones. “Make it a double,” I said to the bartender. What would a few extra drinks matter? They’d help to numb the pain, at least, and if I was going to die soon anyway, I could at least go out totally blitzed. He set the drink

Down on the table. I started drinking as I thought back to my life. Maybe it was time to die, it would be a lot simpler than going around with all this pain. Not to mention the war. Some support people like me, people with powers we were known as the

Saviors. Ha. What "Saviors" we turned out to be. I stared down at my hands as the bottle tipped to pour me another glass. These have killed more people than they have saved, I was sure. Maybe it was time to atone with my own death. Ding dong. I froze. I shouldn't have any visitor

at this time of night. Who dared to interrupt my morbid brooding? I set down the whiskey and crept quietly to the door, one hand on the butt of my ever-present pistol. I flipped on the camera display and was stunned to see

two tabby cats locked in a fierce battle for dominance. One was slightly larger than the other, but the smaller cat was clearly the aggressor; it had its front legs locked around the larger cat’s neck and was batting its back with its hind legs. My first instinct was to break up

this rather disturbing catfight. On second thought, though, the people around me were betting on it. I pulled out a $20 dollar bill. I’d always had good odds.