Yowl

For the past two nights at around 4:30 am, two neighborhood cats have been going at it.  Nothing can pierce through crisp summer moonlight like the yowls of dueling felines.  At first they moan to each other  and I awake thinking that small children are crying in the street.  The cries turn angry, they raise the pitch, and all of a sudden its like you've tried to start a car with the two cats under the hood.  I can almost hear the fur flying and the claws digging out blood.

For a moment I am worried.  It's almost like lying awake as a young boy listening to your parents fight, hoping everything will be all right.

Silence.

One more hiss and the loser departs to go lick its wound under some carport or dumpster.