Dead Cat

It finally happened. Porter caught himself a cat.
I was about to leave this morning, when he hopped outside and I realized he was bolting for something. A cute, newish-to-the-neighborhood cat, fuzzy white with blue eyes. He had it in his mouth when I got to him. The cat had a clutch on his face as well.
I got him separated from it. Of course, the cat swiped at me and got a good gouge in through my jeans. Also hurt a finger trying to restrain the flesh hungry hound.
I was surprised the cat didn’t bolt. Seems porter broke his back. No tags on the kitty, so I wrapped him in a towel and put him on the front lawn. His breathing sounded strained as well.
He flopped a little, trying to run, when I came back out to leave for work. I hope someone he belongs to found him and could do what needs to be done. It was gone when I got home, but I’m sure the cat should be dead by now.
Lots of porter blood, and clotting scars. Not as much as he’s had a dozen times before from run-ins with larger thing, animate or otherwise.
I’m surprised this is the first one he’s dispatched. Certainly not for lack of trying, but those darn fences protect the more wiley cats. I was a little stressed from it at first, but death is part of life, hunting is the hound’s nature. And the cats in our neighborhood mostly don’t even seem to be pets or domesticated, so differentiating them from a squirrel (aka tree rat) seems unwarranted. R.I.P. cute white kitty.