[ WP ] An animal ( bird , stray cat , bug ) witnesses an execution .

Humans always make such a show of dying. 
 
 I stretch long, arching my back and flexing my claws as I bask in the sun. Birds chirp all around me, but I neglect them any attention. I will not be going after them today. 
 
 My finely-tuned ears perk a bit as I watch the small, lanky one rub something on the wooden platform that foams, before dumping some water over it. A small crowd of humans has already begun to assemble. For the life of me, I can not understand why they seem to enjoy the death of one of their own. Though I have had to fight for my life before, I do not enjoy killing my opponent. Humans, though, seem to thrive on it. 
 
 I feel dirty suddenly, and quickly take care of my left hind leg, smoothing the ruffled fur down with my tongue. The old wound aches, but is bearable. 
 
 Straightening a bit, I wonder to myself if the small human who always smells so deliciously of fish will be here today. He is really the only reason I remain here. We have an understanding, he and I. His litter mate appears to enjoy the events more than he does, and so I allow him to pat my fur for comfort as long as he brings me a morsel. He forgot once, but I forgave him. That tiny human, I confess, brightens my day whenever I see him. 
 
 All of a sudden, the humans begin their boisterous chanting. `` God bless!'' `` God be with you!'' I have no idea what this means to this very day, but they say it almost every time they have a death event. 
 
 My attention is diverted again by the birds. Everything around me, birds and humans alike, chatter loudly. Perhaps I shall merely watch the birds today, if the small human with the fish does not show. I should like to see him, though. 
 
 One of the humans has brought a mutt with him, that has begun to bark incessantly at me. I ignore him; my legs feel uneven again and I must clean the hind right. When I am finished, I observe the humans again. Several of them stand on the platform now, but it is the one with the bright coat and dark fur on her head who makes noise now. I am guessing this is the one who will die today, as all the humans seem to like to hear the one who is dying make their sounds. Again, this makes no sense to me, but humans like their death events. 
 
 [ `` Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, for according to the law, and by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that, whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the king and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never: and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul'' ] ( http: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Boleyn # Final_hours ) 
 
 This one makes more sounds than most. I sense fear, and again I do n't understand why this one should choose to die in front of the others if it frightens her. But, I am a cat -- what do I know of human affairs? 
 
 The lovely scent of fish fills my nostrils suddenly, and my attention is again diverted. Where is the small fish human? 
 
 `` Cleo!'' 
 
 Ah, there the boy is. I find the small one off to my right, making his way toward me and my perch. *I honored our pact, small human, * I think to myself as I watch him approach. The youngling's eyes are wild with fear, as they usually are when we first meet, so I fulfill my end of the bargain first, allowing him to pat my fur. I wish the human would shy away from my left hind leg, but the little one is gentle and I know no harm is meant. 
 
 A thunk diverts both of our attentions back to the platform, and I see that the human with dark fur has died, its blood pooling beneath its headless body. It really is quite barbaric, and the humans waste so much blood. I myself have never had a taste for human blood, but I know the birds and dogs do. 
 
 The small one is frightened again, and he has stopped patting me. I lick the still hand, partially to reassure, and partially to remind him of our deal. The small one's eyes water as they usually do, but he is faithful to me, pulling a small fish out of a pouch that is somehow attached to his body. A low rumble of thanks escapes my chest, and this seems to cheer the little one. It is really a lovely fish that was given to me today. It occurs to me that I will miss this small human. 
 
 The young one leaves then, as one of his littermates beckons him. I eat my fish in peace and bask in the sun again. The small, lanky human is again at work on the platform with the foaming water. There is much work to be done if all the blood is to be removed from the space. 
 
 Humans always make such a show of dying. It makes no sense. I close my eyes for the last time. I find I am indeed sad to be leaving the fish child, but I have had a nice, quiet life, which is all I could have hoped for. I go in peace. 
 
 [ [ Edited to correct some pronouns. ] ]
