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Tempest in a Teacup

  It crouches down

  Back arched, fur bristling

  Teeth bared in silent warning

  It backs away when approached

  Frantic eyes commanding you to do the same

  Claws protruding in front of it

  It hisses when backed into a corner

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  Swipes erratically

  Throat issuing a guttural howl

  It sinks its teeth into your finger

  Tiny pinpricks barely breaking skin

  Legs scrabbling against your hand

  It continues to impotently fight

  Seeking the death of an imagined threat

  As you return it to safety

  Your hand draws back

  The hisses subside

  Its fur flattens back down

  All is quiet

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