vim

It all started around the middle of March, when it seemed the rain had
decided to stay forever. I think what we noticed first was the sudden
absence of birds, which lent an eerie silence to the trees. The
neighborhood cats were next, all of them. Something had eaten them alive,
leaving nothing but bits of fur and bone. We all thought that maybe a large
coyote had come down from the hills, or perhaps a mountain lion. Some,
thing with a voracious appetite had made our quaint little neighborhood its
home, and fear settled in like a fog. For weeks, Carrie and I had noticed
that Daxton seemed to be growing at an alarming rate, but we never let the
horrible truth sink in. Even as we plucked the feathers, and blood-soaked
cat collars from his battered and torn bassinet, we simply didn't see the
light, or more fittingly the darkness. I know now though. I hear him
through the night, grunting and growling like some beast from my childhood
nightmares, finally having tracked me down. People ask us how he got so
big, how a 2 month old can weigh 17lbs, or what 2 month old doesn't fit into
a BabyBjorn anymore, but I dare not answer with the truth. I dare not not
tell them where their dear Fluffy has gone, or why their sweet lovebird
Chichi sings no more. He is The Dax. He is the Beast of Burbank Lane. He
is our beast. He is the cutest beast ever, and we love him.