After days of digging out of garbage cans and dumpsters, he had finally unearthed a delectable delicacy: a chicken wing. The meat on it was mostly gone, but at least Jersey could gnaw on the bone and tear apart whatever was left of it. He locked his eyes on it, eyeing it like it was the most delicious meal he was receiving in a long time. Like he was a weary vagabond in the sweltering desert and this was the [i]o a s i s .

The young tuxedo cat, proud of his find, drug it into the middle of the alleyway. Little did he know, there were some eyes on his prize already. Before he could bite onto the wing, a pigeon had landed beside him, cocking its head at the measly piece of meat. Jersey glanced up at the pea-brained avian and frowned, and he waggled his haunches before leaping forward and chasing the pigeon away. "Get outta’ here, stupid bird." He growled, lashing his tail. There was no way that some feather-brain was going to swipe his—

A flutter of wings sounded from behind him, and in an instant, his food was gone. Another pigeon had made off with it, retreating into the distance. "Hey! That was mine!" The young tom exclaimed, a few seconds into a pursuit before he figured that he was too late. Jersey wrinkled his nose and pinned his ears against his cranium before he let out an aggravated R O A R , "GrrrrraaAAHHH!"

The scruffy adolescent plopped right into the dirty floor, hopelessly burying his face into his paws.

"What’re you doin’ out here, kid?" A raggedy, old alley cat had asked Jersey upon witnessing the robbery.
"I found myself some dinner, but a stupid bird took off wit’ it."
"Yeah, well, that’s how it is out here. You got a family or something? You a house-kitty?"
"Hell no. I can take care of myself." But hell, he had to admit — he missed Mama’s food. She’d never let him get this hungry.

Still, he’d never go back... at least not now. His Mama would probably grab him by the ear and demand to know where he ran off to. His step-father would probably yell at him like he usually did, and would make sure he damn well learned his lesson. His brothers? They’d all laugh at him. That was why he wanted to be independent — he’d never make anything of himself if he was just another kitten in a litter, a nobody.

---

Seeing as Jerseyboy was hungry as shit, he couldn't pass up a chance to score a juicy meal. The male had been lingering on the outskirts of the town, solitary just how he liked it. He came to a halt and swiveled his ears in the direction of a noise, a rustling sound coming from the bushes. While he much preferred pasta, his inner alley-cat had given him plenty of experience hunting rodents. That wasn't to say that he wouldn't eat that stuff, though. Food was food.

Jerseyboy dropped into a crouch instinctively, tail twitching ever so slightly. He crept forward, eyes narrowing into slits, and once his prey skittered out from it's cover, he quickly leaped. He sent himself right into the bush, though, and the gnarled twigs and branches dug into his neck and face. Jerseyboy grunted yanked himself out, grimacing and shaking out his fur. "You fuckin'—puttan'![sup]1[/sup]" He snorted bitterly towards the squirrel that got away.

1. bitch