Predators I Have Known by Alan Dean Foster Read Free Book Online

me of the time and the temperature. “Almost,” I replied. Our cats enjoyed being scratched between their front legs. At least half full of confidence now, I reached forward and began to scratch Felix on his chest, between his lanky but muscular front legs.
    Something whizzed past my face. I felt the slightest brush of wind. It happened so quickly that only after the fact did I realize what had taken place. At the same time, I became aware that Felix had twisted his upper body around, turned his head, opened his mouth, and was looking straight at me. He was holding his right leg up, the paw pointed at my face. For the first time, I could see his teeth clearly. The killing canines were much, much bigger than I would have imagined.
    The guide had immediately lowered the video camera. His voice had tensed slightly. “That’s interesting,” he said evenly. “I didn’t know he didn’t like that.”
    You didn’t know . . . ? You didn’t know ?
    I know I flinched. But in a crouching position, with my thighs and calves already thoroughly cramped from maintaining the same posture for so long, I couldn’t do more than flinch without falling down. That would have put me flat on the ground, which I suspected would have been A Really Bad Idea. I stared at Felix. Felix stared at me. Then he lowered his foreleg and resumed facing forward. And did something that in its own way was even more shocking than the warning swipe he had taken at my face.
    He meowed.
    I swear, it was a cartoon dialogue-balloon meow. A perfect Sylvester-the-Cat meow. I knew cheetahs might purr. I knew they barked. But meow ? The guide had shut off the video camera as soon as the cat had swung at me, so we missed recording the sound. Mentally, I tried to reconcile what I had just experienced with what I had just heard. Was the cat apologizing? Laughing? Teasing?
    First I’ll rip your face off, then—meow.
    Reviewing the video later, I was able to see what my eyes had not been able to register when the incident had occurred. Felix’s semi-retractable claws (semi-retractable claws are known only in three other cat species) had missed my nose by about an inch. The cheetah had known exactly what he had been doing.
    Don’t scratch my chest.
    I counted myself fortunate. Very fortunate indeed. Had Felix been in a more irritable mood, he could just as easily have taken my nose off. Or bit down on the offending hand. Instead, he had chosen only to warn me. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe at night, or on a cooler afternoon, it might have gone differently.
    Handing my camera back to me, the guide said casually, “You mentioned earlier than your wife is an ex–vet tech, and that you have some land in Arizona with a horse stable and a high fence.”
    “Thirteen acres.” I wiped sweat from my forehead. My eyes were burning. “Why?”
    That half smile again. “We have more animals than we can take care of here. Would you be interested in taking Felix home with you? We could prepare the necessary export papers, handle quarantine arrangements, and so on.”
    He’s putting me on , I thought. Probably plays the same gag on everyone who spends time with the cat.
    But what if it wasn’t a joke . . .
    I gave the offer serious thought. Really serious thought. For about thirty seconds. Not because I didn’t think I could get along with Felix. Not because our thirteen acres of terrain virtually identical to what he was familiar with here at Mount Etjo would be unsuitable for him. Not because I worried that he might scare our own cats inside out. But because I don’t believe in keeping big cats, or any big animal with the exception of a horse or a llama, as a pet.
    I’ve been torn up pretty good by the claws of house cats. They can bite, too. Dogs also bite. So do babies. My philosophy on keeping big cats as pets is twofold.
    First, it’s a silly and unnecessary paradigm of macho self-aggrandizement.
    Second, you can keep a big cat as a pet for years. You can sleep with