I have chosen a winner!  Put your hands together for Vawn!  Her story was not only wonderful, but it included a cat and a hamster.  Alcheaon deserves a round of applause as well.  I enjoyed reading both of their stories, each one unique in it's own way.  Here's the winning entry written by Vawn:

Cat vs Hamster

In a small house of no note lived a woman and her pets. Much of the day the woman was away from home, and so the house became the temporary territory of her cat and her hamster. The cat, a female feline named Whisk, lithe of body and striped in a mixture of grey and black as though someone has whisked her fur in long strokes. The hamster however was a sandy-gold with white paws and underbelly and lives snugly within his saw-dusted cage and was aptly named ‘Dust’. Cat and hamster were not the best of friends, but whilst their mistress resided within the house they put their animosity aside in order to bring her joy.

This day, the mistress had left and cat and hamster did not wait long before renewing their rivalry. At first Whisk lounged comfortably in the squishy arm chair, flexing her claws against the arm, her eyes narrowed with contentment. Dust, however, was restless and already running full speed on his green plastic wheel. Each turn it made gave a screechy squeak in protest to the movement, and each squeak caused Whisk to flick her ears in annoyance. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Cats are not known for their patient and Whisk was no exception. She opened her eyes slowly, sending a piercing green glance at the hamster cage cat upon the shelf of her mistress’s cabinet. Squeak, squeak, squeak.

Whisks eyes narrowed again, but not with sleep. Unconsciously her tail began to lash beside her and her claw flexing had become unnecessarily rough. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Sand watched these small changes in attitude and silently rejoiced at the attention – and his ability to annoy without consequence. Usually Whisk would change room, or else go outside to lounge in the sun soaked yard. The feline glanced at the window, noting the darkened sky and promise of rain with distaste. Today was not a day to give in.

Cat stared at hamster. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Without warning Whisk jumped from her armchair perch, her paws barely touching the carpet before she sprang back up, angling at the second shelf on the cabinet – only one below the hamsters tier. The squeaking stopped abruptly as the cabinet wobbled slightly with the cat’s momentum and weight. Dust stood frozen on the wheel, nose twitching slightly and small rounded ears pinned back, his body almost curled. Whisk slowly paced along the length of the shelf, tail still lashing and eyes intent on her aim. She climbed tenderly upon the top of a unit, almost level to the second shelf, then twisted and jumped again, this time landing lightly on the third shelf of the cabinet – directly in line to Dust and his cage.

Dusts body, previously frozen, seemed to restart with a boost and he darted quickly to the opposite end of his cage and into the small toilet-paper filled house that did for his sleeping place. Whisk ignored the frantic scamper and with a stalkers pace padded closer, until her nose was almost touching the wire of the cage. One single tender paw reached up, claws out and brushed the cage, attempting to mimic the mistress when she removed the smelly fur ball from his home. Dust watched; small beady black eyes steady and fearful. He’d gone too far and knew it. Was he going to be lunch? Although hamsters are not known for their intelligence Dust was common in that he was somewhat mischievous. His body puffed up with air he rushed from his small house, darted to the cage edge where the cats paw pressed against the wire and viciously bit Whisks toe.

With a yowl of rage and pain Whisk jumped back – her back legs missing the shelf and meeting mid air before her entire back end fell, dragging her front end after. Desperately she pulled her fore-paws down, grasping the edge of the shelf whilst her back end curled and hind legs flailed to find some grip. At that moment a noise began – the same noise in fact. Squeak, squeak, squeak. With a snarling-hiss Whisk lost her grasp on the shelf, falling to the ground and twisting just in time to land paws-first on the rug whilst the cabinet above her wobbled slightly as if stifling a laugh at her fate.

And all the while the otherwise silent house was filled by the sound of Squeak, squeak, squeak.

Vawn's entry will be displayed on my profile for all to see and enjoy.  Sorry to both my entrants for being late on the results.  I will set up a trade and such with Vawn tommarow.  I'd do it  now, but it's 4 am here.

Please use Rmail that way nobody steals your ideas.

Here's something i made up quickly.

i doubt i will finish it as to i dont think anyone cares what happens or not

--

A mother calico full of kits had started making her nest in the hayloft of the old Mcalaster farm, which had been deserted for sometime,she herself for a feral wildcat, born on this farm before the owners grew two old and p*censored*ed away. She was never called anything besides kitty or cali by the old female twoleg who use to reside here with her mate,Nameless and homeless,nothing to interact with besides fellow feral toms which in the end knocked her up with kits.

This october night was cold and gloomy the fog had rolled in early,her tail wrapped closely around her pink nose as she shivered, heavy with kits and almost close to having them. in the distance outside an old tawny owl was making its cries into the night, none the less looking for some small animal to eat, alot of cats she had known gone this way to this owl. A shiver ran down her spine as mice ran through the hay behind her, food was glorious here but what if it brought the owl here and it picked off her kittens one by one.

Fear jabbed at her sides, ebbing away the feel of comfort she had to leave this place, but not now, that owl would surely scoop her up and make a nice meal out of her. Curling deeper into the hay which had started to smell of dust from being so old, in a few years there would be nothing left of it. Ate away by the rodents that two called this hayloft home,sleep soon took over Cali, and she awoke to find it morning.

Safe enough for traveling, so the overly pregnant female made it down from the loft with a soft plop on the soil as she jumped down from the nearest pilar.Her stomache swayed side to side as she proceeded onwards,her tail slightly swaying side to fro. Sitting infront of the old house for awhile she peered around her green optics scanned the terrain all over, she could not decide which way to start her perilous journey first. Finally after which took hours of debating, cali decided  she would follow the old dirt road to where ever took it.

Jumping off the old porch of the  creeking house, she took one more look back at which had homed her for many moons before she started on along the dirt road. The road started to twist and turn and after a few  hours  night started to kick in and the road had turned from soil to a hard gravel path, like a black river of tar,The scent burned her nose and the path was cold on her pads.

After awhile of venturing on this path bushes neared the edge of it, without thinking twice cali ran to these bushes and forced herself wedged under on and curled up for the night, although sleep did not reach her at all, she lay there staring into the night, odd sounds of machines rumbled on in the distance. Cali had not heard a car in moons not since the twolegs were tooken away when she was still a young little thing, this noise fightened her as much as the owl did, but perhaps this noise was not dangerous.

A light patch of mist covered the ground that morning everything was covered in dew,as the sun rose, drops of water from the dew had found thier way down to cali, shivering she jumped out from the bush. Now wet ,cold,tired and hungry she continued on towards the sounds of the cars. By the time she had dried off a small town had came in sight, this was bumbling around with the cars, but in the yards behold animals, other cats like herself and small yipping canines.

Could this place be safe enough for cali.
---
TO BE CONTINUED

Tiger poem -[wont be any good i fail at poems]

Fur of fire-orange

Stripes of black;

Will you survive

The relentless human attack?

Some humans love you,

More then anything else;

They don't wish to lose you

But someone tolls your bell.

Those that would hunt you

Take your body, take your skin;

They are oblivious

To committing the sin.

We who love you

Sit in sad, silent

And frustrated outrage.

Sometimes we scream

Other times we cry;

We can't stand to see

Even one of you die.

We who Love you;

We can’t understand

The atrocities placed upon you

At other humans’ hands.

We mourn your every p*censored*ing

With our silent prayer;

With choking tears; with cries of rage;

We hope we help others learn to care.

.

 [bigfelinestory, also might suck because its just not cat related  but i'll also start working on that hamster plot line tomorrow if you want]

I am a wildlife photographer. All my life, I have been traveling the world in search of photos of rare and endangered animals. So it came as no suprise to those around me that when I was offered the chance to go to Africa to photograph the elusive monarch of the Savannah, the mighty lion, that I left with all haste for the airport.

My plane arrived in Nairobi, Kenya at about 3:00 p.m. Local. I was met by the minister of game and wildlife for the surrounding area. He was informed that I was arriving and was very glad to meet with me. Over coffee at his office in the central city, he told me that one of the local villages in the outlying area had been frequently attacked by a lion and the chances would be good for me to get a picture there. He also told me the villagers were sometimes beating the bush in an attempt to find it and kill it. This news came as no surprise, but at the same time very much distressed me.

At that, we left his office and he drove me to the hotel, where I would spend my first night in Kenya. It was a modest hotel in the center of the city. The room was small, dusty and hot. A ceiling fan ineffectively moved the air about the room, making no change in the temperature whatsoever. There was a small balcony with a table and two chairs outside the windows that overlooked the main street. The wind that blew in through them was hot and smelled of gasoline, cooking, and of human sweat. The only respite I got that night from the oppressive heat of the city was by taking a cold bath. This proved only to make me more aware of how hot it was once I was out of the water.

After drying myself and dressing, I headed downstairs to the hotel's restaurant. As I sat over dinner, I saw a group of locals drove by, the jeep loaded with people carrying what looked to be high powered rifles. Two tables over, there was an English (or so I guessed from his accent) gentleman, dressed in safari clothing, complete from the high shoes, khaki shorts and shirt to the wide brimmed hat with chin strap. Dressed as he was, he would not look out of place on top of an elephant, except that he had a physical build that spoke of too many rich meals coupled with years of work behind a desk. He was remarkably plump, and did not quite fit his clothing.

As I listened to him talk with his friends at his table, I overheard him boasting about going out hunting for lions.

Quickly finishing my dinner, I went back up to my room and composed a letter to the minister of game. After going through the front desk and dialing his fax number, I hooked the modem of my laptop into the phone line. Sending the fax about this marked "Extremely Urgent" to him, I then sat back and made the appropriate entries in my personal log on my computer. I hooked the phone back up, dialed the front desk and asked for an international line to the United States. The operator told me it would take about ten minutes to complete that connection, as they have been having trouble with the telesat connection, and he'd ring me when the connection was established. I hung up the phone and waited. I finished my log entry with deions of the individuals involved, what I had for dinner and a quick note to my housemate, who was watching over my "pet" lioness back home. I had adopted the lioness as a cub after her mother was brutally killed when some gang member broke into the zoo. He used a long knife tied to a pole and stabbed her 17 times in a bizarre "right of entry" ritual. She died of blood loss about three hours later, and was found by the zookeepers in the morning. Her cub was curled up by her side, licking her face.

A friend of mine who worked there called me immediately and informed me of the tragedy. He knew that I had the time and experience to care for her, and the zoo did not. So I adopted her, and she now lives with me on my property.

The phone rang. I picked it up and was told that my line was ready. Dialing the number to my home,I connected the phone line to the laptop's modem, logged into my server and uploaded the log file. My work has sometimes proved dangerous, and I like to leave details about where I am and the situation, should the end of my life come by foul means.

This almost happened to me when I was in Siberia. I was working with the government there to expose, through photographic evidence, a poaching ring that was killing Siberian tigers to fulfill the need for tiger parts. After tailing the subjects with the help of the KGB, we found the small camp that the poachers had set up, deep in the wilderness. Marking the position on a map, we made plans to come back closer to nighttime to get photos of their operation. We couldn't stop them unless we had photographic proof of their activities.

As night approached, we quietly walked in to the forest near the camp, all of us wearing military camouflage gear and kevlar vests. We weren't taking any chances. I set up my camera with my night lenses. We waited, drinking hot coffee to keep warm in the cold night hours.

A long time later after paritally drifting off, I came fully to my senses by a distant roar of a tiger and the sound of human voices. Alert and fully awake, I used a night vision device to spot the sources of the sounds. I saw nothing for long moments. Then, walking into the clearing were six men carrying a cage with a Siberian tigress and her cub inside. I knew this would be my chance to get them on film. I carefully checked my camera to make sure it wasn't frozen by the cold, and grabbed the remote trigger. Focusing on the center of their camp, where the most light was and the snow had been turned up from the trampling of booted feet, I waited.

As I expected, they set the cage down in the middle of the camp. Now there were eight of them, all dressed in winter camouflage as were the agents with me and myself. Long moments p*censored*ed as they talked among themselves. One of the agents was using amplified recording equipment, while another was taking notes. I asked Alexi, the head of the team, what they were saying. He told me that they were talking about who they were going to deliver them to, how they were going to kill them and other odd details. I asked them if we had to wait until blood had been shed to stop them and he said hesitantly "yes, we must". He was as upset about it as I was. My finger automatically pressed the remote trigger and the camera started recording the events.

They opened the cage a few minutes later and got the cub out by the use of a cattle prod. It took two strong men to hold onto the 2X8 piece of lumber jammed through the cage to keep the tigress from getting out. The cub, approximately three months old, approached the men with curiosity. At that moment, I whispered to Alexi "We can't let this happen...we have to move now. Look at the cub! She is used to being handled and she's heading right to them. For god's sake we have to stop this!"

"I know, comrade." he said. He looked to his men "All right, lets get in there now and stop this. That cub is defenseless, and I will not stand by and watch this." He handed me an AK-47. "Do you know how to use this?" he asked. I nodded. "you may need to." With that he got up and approached the rest of his men. He signaled to them and we prepared to run, the adrenaline pumping wildly through my veins.

I checked to see that the camera was still rolling, and we made our rush. Too late for the cub...she was picked up by a big grinning bear of a man. He held her at face level. She looked at him and licked his face, and at that moment, his grin widened into a vicious grin. He plunged his long knife into her chest. Fortunately, the knife pierced her heart and she suffered little. The tigress seemed to know what had just happened and redoubled her efforts to escape, snarling and roaring in rage.

All weapons drawn and cocked, we ran into the camp, the agents yelling 'halt!' in Russian. The startled poachers dropped what they had in thier hands and made a run for it. Some of them began taking poorly aimed shots at us. I was struck in the shoulder, a slight wound. I didn't feel it until much later. I approached the man who killed the cub, as in his haste he tripped and fell to the ground. He stood up to stare into the barrel of my gun. I released the safety and my finger was involuntarily squeezing the trigger. I couldn't hear anything. The blood was pounding in my ears. Then a gentle hand grabbed my arm. "It's all over...the tigress is safe, and you can put the gun down now." Alexi's hand gently but firmly forced my machine gun down.

The man who I faced sneered at me. He spoke one word to me in Russian "Durak". He switched to perfect English and said "That means stupid. That's what you are..." My face tightened in a mask of contained rage and I yanked him up to stand on his feet. I looked him directly in the eye. His sneer widened and he spat in my face. I lost control. Bringing the AK-47 slowly up and reversing my grip on it, I slammed the butt of it into his jaw. He fell down and I hit him again on the forehead. At that, he p*censored*ed out, the whites of his eyes showing. I didn't even check to see if he was still breathing...I didn't care.

After the tigress was sedated, I looked her over. She had a tag on her right ear that identified her as a circus animal. I was sick. I now realized that they had stole these animals and it was no harder for them than plucking a leaf off of a tree. I looked at the body of the cub lying in her own blood on the snow. I felt sicker. I ran to the edge of the camp and vomited.

In what seemed to be hours later, I felt hands on my shoulders and found myself sitting next to where I had threw up. "It's okay now, comrade. It's over. Several of them are now in the custody of the local authorities." A realization dawned on me. "Several of them?" I asked in a hoarse voice. "Yes...unfortunately two of them escaped." was all the answer I got.

Days after the incident, I was preparing to leave my hotel room for the airport and the plane that would take me back home. I had woken up an hour early with the urgent sensation to check my mail in the lobby. When I was heading back up the stairs with a cup of steaming coffee in my hands, I felt the building tremble and heard a dull thud. I thought that it might have been an earthquake, but as I topped the stairs to the floor where I was staying, the nagging feeling became a cold knot in the pit of my stomach. The floor was filled with smoke, and where the door to my room used to be now there was nothing but a blackened smoking hole. Calling the American consulate, I demanded immediate safe p*censored*age to the airport. I was picked up by a limousine a few minutes later and rushed me to the airport.

Back home, I was informed in a letter by Alexi that it had been an organized hit. Very professional. They had been noting my routine on a tip they had. The letter also said 'Watch your back. You've angered powerful people.'

So it was with some reservation that I took the *censored*ignment in Africa.

A button on the screen of my computer flashed. I came back from these distant memories with a start. The upload was complete and I had one file awaiting a download. It was a text file. I hit the button that began the procedure, stood up and stretched my legs, and poured myself some water from the pitcher on the nightstand. It was warm and tasted slightly alkaline. I came back over to my computer as the file finished it's transfer. I remotely sent my server to it's sleep mode, and terminated the connection.

I opened the file, it was from William. He said that all was going well, and that Lucy had been very easy to handle. He also told me that Lucy had not been eating regularly for a few days after my departure, and was losing a bit of weight, but it seemed to be nothing to be concerned about. Her diet had returned to normal a couple of days ago. William sent his love, and promised that he would be with me next time. He hated being alone, and missed my company. It seemed that Lucy missed me too, she spent every night sleeping on my bed next to William.

I saved the file to my personal directory and shut the computer off. It had been a long day, and I was tired. I looked at the wall clock. 11:47 p.m., 'What am I doing up so late?' I said aloud. Turning back the covers on the bed I prepared to get some sleep.

Sometime during that night, I dreamt of an African lion. Tall in the shoulder with a large mane. He approached me, looking directly into my eyes. Then he walked into me...straight through me until our forms became one. A deep rumbling voice gently said "This is who you are...". I walked over to a waterhole. Body didn't feel right. Senses slightly askew. I looked down to see the face of a male lion looking back up at me. I nosed the reflection and my nose got wet. I raised a paw. 'Now wait a minute' I thought to myself...'paw?' I looked at it. It was tawny colored and large. I inspected it and found the sharp claws.

I awoke with the sun beating in through the windows. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to work it's way out of my chest. I stood up. Legs didn't feel right. I lost my balance and fell against the nighttable sending the water pitcher to the floor in a shower of pottery. I couldn't see right either...felt weird somehow. Mind didn't feel right. Strange disjointed thoughts. Lion's eyes looking at me from a mirror. Smells were stronger. I could hear someone whispering. I looked around the room; no one there. I could hear birds singing, the sound so loud in my ears it was painful.

Minutes later, after my senses returned to normal, I stood up. My legs supported me though I was still dizzy. I looked at the water pitcher. 'Musta been something in the water' I thought. The same deep voice that I heard in my dream spoke inside my head "No...it wasn't...you know better." Shaking my head to clear it I decided to see the local doctor and have myself checked for malaria. Malaria is the number one killer and I knew that the work I was doing was far more important than for me to risk being ill.

I called down to the front desk. The desk clerk gave me the number of two local doctors. I thanked him for his *censored*istance and asked him to ring through to one of them, a Dr. M'Butu. The phone rang three times before it was answered. A husky female voice answered "Hello, Dr.M'Butu's office. How may I help you?" "Well, I need an appointment to see the doctor." I said, trying to hide the nerves in my voice "it may be an emergency. Can he see me today?" "Yes" the voice answered "be here in about an hour and the doctor will see you." After getting directions to the office, I headed downstairs to have some breakfast. My appetite was very good this morning. Which was odd for me as I usually skipped breakfast.

While I was sitting at my table, I saw the same English gentleman leaving the hotel. I followed him with my eyes. He was openly carrying a large caliber rifle, and he had his two friends from last night with him. He disappeared down the sidewalk. I was now very upset. I thought to myself that I couldn't afford any time away from my job, so it had better not be malaria!

The trip to the doctors proved it was not malaria, or any other disease. As a matter of fact I was in better health that day than I had been since the trip to the Soviet Union, two years prior. That unsettled me. What had happened to me? Why was I so disoriented when I woke up? This nagged at me for the rest of my stay in Africa, that is until I found the answer, and that blew me away more than anything had in my life.

Back at the hotel, I checked my mail with the desk clerk. I had two bills for long distance service, nothing more. After paying them I went back to my room to take a shower. That mornings events had shaken me up so bad that I had forgotten to.

The shower felt absolutely wonderful. As I indulged myself with the m*censored*ager, spraying it on my shoulders and neck, a strange feeling came over me again. I felt tired. I closed my eyes and let the water wash over my face. I could feel the lion again, watching me from a corner of my mind. I heard him say "Relax...you are fighting it. This is who you are." A vision of an adult male lion, the same one I saw in my dream formed before my mental eye. He looked at me. Looked into me, and then the same thing happened. We became eachother.

I fell out of the shower with a thump. Again the disorientation. Again the heightened senses, and again the feeling that this body was clumsy, awkward. I tried to stand, but I had hit my head. As my vision went black, I saw that lion again. He was looking at me with great concern in his eyes.

In my unconscious state, I saw that again I was the lion. Standing at the waterhole I again lifted my right front paw and examined it. Sharp claws came out of thier sheaths when I flexed my muscles. I felt strong. I felt alive. I could feel the heat of the sun burning down on my heavily furred neck and head, and knew instinctively that I needed shade. Walking across the gr*censored*, I found a cool spot under an acacia tree.

I laid down and rolled on my side, panting in the heat. I could feel everything, and now I pondered my situation. Why was I here in the body of a lion? Where the hell was I anyway? What exactly was happening to me?

A noise behind me caused me to swivel my ears backward (oh how marvelous and sensitive these senses were!). My pridemates were walking up toward the tree to lay in the shade, I had heard them when they were very far away, and marvelled at the new senses that filled my mind with sounds and smells I'd not noticed before.

I slowly came back to conciousness. I was in my hotel room. My vision was blurred. My head hurt like someone had taken a jackhammer to it. I felt the back of my skull. My hair was all matted and sticky. I pulled at it and found dried blood in my hand. I felt my scalp for any large cracks but to my relief felt only a small cut. I tried to stand up, but my legs wouldn't work. I could feel water running over my feet and realized that I had been laying there for god knows how long. The backs of my knees on the edge of the tub cutting off the circulation. I pulled at my legs and managed to get them onto the floor.

What was happening to me? Was I going crazy? Was there some sort of untraceable strain of virus coursing through my veins? Have I been poisoned??

Rubbing feeling back into my legs, I sat up, my head feeling as if it weighed a ton. I m*censored*aged my temples in a vain effort to relieve the headache. When I could stand again, I walked slowly over to my computer on unsteady legs. I made the journal entries regarding these rather peculiar circumstances, saving them into a newly created directory : illness.

Certainly I had not felt ill until this morning. Maybe it was a slow working poison. Untraceable that would slowly rob me of all my senses and eventually kill me. I quickly shot these thoughts from my head. I called room service, ordered lunch and hung up the phone. I shut the water off in the bathroom.

Room service arrived. Taking my lunch and tipping the waiter, I closed the door and locked it. I had to sit down and figure all this out. What did it mean? I emailed my spirit brother about what was happening to me. I took a bite out of the sandwich, sipped at my herbal tea. I looked at the clock; 4:45 p.m. "My god, how could that be?" I said aloud. I had started my shower at 11:00...it was now late afternoon. Tomorrow I had to be out at the village checking with the people there. I didn't need to have these things happening to me now.

I checked my email and fax inbox to see if I had any messages waiting. There were two emails and a fax. The fax was from the minister of wildlife. He would be waiting in the hotel lobby at six in the morning to drive me to the village. Our lion had paid another visit and the people were about to hunt him down.

The two emails were from my spirit brother. I downloaded the mail files to my computer read them as I finished my lunch. The first had been written earlier this morning my time, late night for him. He asked how I was doing, told me of events in his life and wished me well. The second was his reply to my latest letter. I opened that one first and read it. He asked me what my totem told me about the experience, which set my mind thinking in the right direction about the experiences.

It probably just takes a new look at the subject, if you find yourself only able to write in a way similar to someone else; the Warriors books aren't the only cat literature out there, and certainly not the first. For instance, a book called Catwings, one of my favourites when I was younger, has quite a different mood about it. Don't be afraid to experiment with terms, with scenes, with deions.. with anything, really.

Also.. I see what you did with that second cat story, there. Not gewd. D:

Hokai. Back to contest stoof. xD I s'pose I'll join for the fun of it. Something to get me to stop being so lazy, at least. |D

CrysHorruh, you did not write that story yourself.  I found the same story just now here:

 http://www.furville.com/Dave/felinedr.html 

Not only did you break the very first rule Kate listed, but you broke a very serious Rescreatu rule at the same time.  This site has no tolerance for art theft or plagiarism of any kind.