Cat Country Read Online Free PDF

monster? Perhaps they planned to train me and then put me on display at the local zoo. Or perhaps they planned to send me to a biological institute as a specimen for dissection; that would make more sense. I smiled at my own imagination. I really seemed to be going a bit mad. Why hadn’t they taken my pistol away? I felt both surprised and comforted by their failure, but neither of those feelings added any saliva to a dry mouth. I was exceedingly thirsty, and looking all about – just as I stood on the edge of despair – I spotted a lifesaver.
    In the corner parallel to the one I was sitting in, there stood a stone jar. Could it be . . . ? My instinct told me not to waste time wondering, but to simply get over there and see. (Instinct is really more intelligent than intellect.) But my ankles were still fettered. Perhaps I could hop across. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I tried to stand, but couldn’t. After several attempts, I discovered that my legs would no longer obey my orders. All right, I’d sit down then. I was so thirsty that I thought my dried-out trunk would begin to split apart. My physical needs had stripped me of all my usual vanity and I decided that perhaps I could crawl. The little room wasn’t very wide, and if I got down on my belly, I’d probably be within a few inches of my goal. Just by stretching out my hand, I’d be able to attain the highest hope that my life had ever known – that precious jar! But before I could get down flat, the rope around my waist warned me that it would not permit it. If I insisted on going forward, the rope would leave me hanging in mid-air. It was hopeless.
    But the fire in my mouth caused me to use my wits again: feet foremost, I advanced flat on my back, like a beetle that has been turned upside down and can’t right itself. Although the rope was very tight, by using all my strength I should be able to force it up over my rib cage. (At first I had considered trying the same trick head first, but decided not to because my hips were broader than my rib cage and would not have allowed me to force the rope very far in that direction.) If I distributed the rope evenly over my rib cage, I might be able to reach the jar with my feet. Even though the rope might rip and tear my skin, it would still be preferable to dying of thirst. I made my move, the skin on my chest did start to break, but I couldn’t afford to worry about it. I just kept struggling towards the jar. I was in great pain, but I didn’t have time to let it concern me. I continued struggling forward, and finally my feet reached their treasured destination. Although I could reach the jar by straightening out my feet, the leg irons were so tight I couldn’t spread my legs apart far enough to grab hold of it. By curling my legs up slightly, I was able to take enough pressure off my ankles to spread the tips of my feet a bit, but then, of course, I could no longer reach far enough to do any good. It was hopeless.
    The only thing I could do was lie there and gaze helplessly at the sky. Without thinking, I pulled out my pistol. Dying of thirst, I gazed at that graceful and handy little instrument. I closed my eyes and placed its shiny little mouth against my temple. A single movement of my hand and I should never be thirsty again.
    Just at that point an idea suddenly dawned on me. I bolted upright and turned around towards the corner of the wall. I aimed carefully at the rope. Bang! Bang! The heavy rope was partially torn and badly singed. Like a mad man, I tore at it with my hands and chewed with my teeth. Finally, I succeeded in breaking the rope apart. In my delirious joy I completely forgot that my feet were still fettered; I got up quickly and just as quickly fell to the ground. Taking advantage of the position I had fallen in, I crawled towards the stone jar. I took it in both hands. There was something bright and shiny inside. It was water! Well, perhaps it was water, or perhaps it