[Twoleg Place] Quiet Evening

_{Oswald Tips yawned. It was a warm evening. The sun shone on his black fur and warmed him. He sat on the stone wall that marked the border between his garden and the neighbours'. A blackbird landed on a branch of the old cherry tree in Mr. Tips' garden. The old cat looked at it, but didn't try to catch the bird. He had just finished eating his dinner, wich had been splendid, as always. But even if he would have been hungry, he wouldn't have attacked the blackbird. He liked the small animal. The cherry tree was it's favourite spot and Beth always said it was 'her bird'. She had called him Berry Jones. Mr. Tips would never kill Mr. Jones. Berry, however, didn't know this and when Mr. Tips stood up and walked in his direction, he flew up and landed on the roof of the shed. He watched Mr. Tips carefully with his black eyes.

Mr. Tips walked to the low, green, wooden fence. It was the boundary between the garden and the street. There weren't many twolegs on the streets and most of their cars stood still at their parkingplaces. A stray cat dissapeared behind a trach can when Mr. Tips looked at him. The black cat with the white paws snorted. He didn't like stray cats. Even the cats living in the forest were better then them. At least they didn't eat trash. But the stray cats weren't the 'lowest' species. Those were the 'Elite' cats. Those bloodthirsty monsters from the deserted park. Mr. Tips knew they lived there. He saw them often enough, sniffing around in the streets, looking for easy prey.

Mr. Tips sniffed the air and smelled a cat. He looked around and saw the person who's scent he'd smelled. 'Good evening,' he said.}