Like a barn cat we had an island cat. She was a good mother and over the years had many litters.
Living outside she fended for herself and taught her little ones how to hunt lizards, birds, mice, iguanas and yes fish. Of course we fed her and the many kittens over the years but she never solely relied on us.
When she wanted something she let us know by rubbing herself on our legs. She never wanted to be petted or held and maintained a wild streak that made it so we respected her wishes.
Having many opportunities to sample fresh fish she developed a taste for it. The sound of scraping the remaining fry from the cast net was a sound she loved. Every head and morsel I plucked from the net was quickly consumed making it less of a mess for me to clean
Fortunate for her we lived right on the coast. She bravely faced the occasional crashing wave when fishing. Going from rock to rock hugging the waterline looking for pools that remained after the tides pulled out. With the intensity of a huntress both eyes looked for any trapped fish. With a fierce swiftness she dove in, grabbed it with her teeth and climbed out with her catch.
Many times we saw her carrying her catch to her litter. Closing my eyes and can still see her walking through the tall grass with a fish flopping in her mouth.
