Miss Malone

While the cookies were baking, I found myself with heart breaking.
It might seem silly to you, but that was the way I felt watching as my cat chose to give another the bird she'd caught.
For since she was but a kitten, Miss Malone had always captured birds for me. Big and small, always alive as she'd set them loose in whatever room I was in.
And as the bird fluttered about in panic and I'd try and catch it, I'd see the satisfied gleam in Miss Malone's eyes. For she thought me a hapless kitten, in need of hunting lessons from a master such as she.
But now, she'd given that coveted position to another: my annoying brother.
And he, being the dog person he was, did not appreciate the great honor Miss Malone had bestowed upon him.
Nor could he catch the fledgling she'd given him! It was but a puff of feather, fluttering uselessly in uncertain flaps, yet he couldn't catch it.
To hide my breaking heart, I turned away from the scene.
I lingered in the kitchen, watching the timer count down to cookie perfection. So what if Miss Malone had turned her affection to another? I'd grown tired of catching those birds anyway.
Besides, my brother would only be in town for a few more days anyway.
Let him be the one showered in feathery gifts.
A meow and gentle pressure against my leg announced Miss Malone's presence in the kitchen, and I leaned down to pet stroke her back.
Perhaps it wasn't so bad that my cat decided to share our hunting practice with another. For maybe she thought I was good enough to catch birds on my own now, and no longer needed her helping paw.
Yes, that had to be it. I'd finally graduated from Miss Malone's hunting course.
And when the timer beeped, I rewarded myself with a feather-free cookie.