By Sara Codair
I’m curled up in my blanket, cleaning my paws when the enemy attacks. The tie-fighter on a string flies dangerously close to my head. Any minute it could release a barrage of fur singing lasers. I pick my head up, tracking it with my eyes then leap up smashing one of my mighty paws into its side. My claws sink into its outer shell but do not penetrate to the pilot. It jerks once, twice, three times them breaks free. It tries to fly away.
I can’t let it escape to harry me another day, so I wriggle my rump, get my feet into ideal positions and spring forward.
The pilot must see me coming, but he doesn’t fire. He never does. They only do that on the big screen the humans like to watch. Still, I’m not taking any chances. I grasp the fighter midair and drag…
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