Free Copycat by Colin Dann

roughly from the food-bowl and gobbled down what was left of the meat.
    ‘You’re making a fool of yourself,’ was Pinkie’s last retort. ‘And you don’t realize it!’
    ‘Go away,’ Sammy hissed. ‘And don’t come back again while you smell like that.’
    ‘Oh, I have to go away,’ crooned Pinkie, sarcastically aping Sammy’s idol, which made him even more furious, so that he almost chased her from the garden. But Pinkie wasn’t frightened of her mate and had the last laugh. From the top of the high wall she taunted him.
    ‘I have to go away. He doesn’t like my smell. I have to go away.’

—10—
    Past and present
    Monty witnessed the cats’ quarrel from the fence-top. He could tell there was some trouble but, naturally, didn’t understand the cause.
    ‘She’ll see,’ Sammy vowed bitterly. ‘She’ll find out the hard way.’ He slunk to the shade of a tall plant and flung himself down. Pinkie’s words had upset him more than he cared to admit.
    And Pinkie, too, was far from happy. When she jumped from the wall she realized she had put a barrier between herself and Sammy. The upshot of their disagreement was that she couldn’t return to the house to feed again. Moreover she was jealous. The Church Cat, Sammy’s ideal, had become more important to him than his mate.
    ‘I thought he had more sense,’ she muttered to herself. ‘He’s blinded. Neither of us can ever be like her.’ She sauntered along, then stopped suddenly. Where was she going? She didn’t know any more. ‘Oh, now what do I do?’ she wailed. ‘I don’t have a den and I don’t have a mate any longer. Sammy has a base but I don’t have anything. Where would I hide from the patrols?’
    The more she thought about her predicament the more Pinkie realized that there was only one creature who knew a sufficiently wide area to be able to help her. And that was the fox. The poor toothless, decrepit creature had once been a clever, resourceful hunter with all the skills and knowledge necessary to thrive. He would still be familiar with the safest places and he could surely give her guidance.
    ‘Where would he have gone and will he have survived?’ Pinkie asked herself. ‘I must find him quickly.’ She ran to the churchyard and was about to leap the low stone wall into the field with the gravestones when the presence of another cat, a beautiful blue Persian sitting further along the wall, made her hesitate. At first the Church Cat pretended not to notice Pinkie although she was looking directly across. She yawned and stretched thoroughly, then gave Pinkie a kind of dismissive glance as if to convey her complete lack of interest and stepped daintily along the wall, turning her back on the white cat. Pinkie concluded at once who the animal was and she felt bitter. Here was the creature Sammy wished her to emulate; a proud, vain-looking beast who hadn’t even the courtesy to acknowledge her presence.
    ‘I’d rather be the ruffian I am,’ Pinkie swore as she jumped hastily over the wall.
    The fox wasn’t in the field. This time Pinkie went beyond the fringe of trees and entered a small copse. It wasn’t long before she detected the fox’s scent.
    ‘He must be here somewhere,’ she told herself. ‘He was too weak to travel further.’
    She found the fox under a hawthorn tree. He was lying on his back, his body slightly twisted and completely still. Pinkie was quite sure she was too late and miaowed her frustration and disappointment. Amazingly the fox stirred, righted himself with a wriggle and sat up.
    ‘I – I thought . . .’ Pinkie stammered.
    ‘I was playing dead. Not a difficult act for me!’ the fox said. ‘A man brought a big dog in here and I didn’t have a den to escape to. It was all I could think of when the great brute came bounding up.’
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘It sniffed at me and ran on past. I’m not of much interest to anybody.’
    ‘You are to me,’ Pinkie told him.
    The fox grinned. ‘Are