Cooper lay at my feet, licking his furry paws.

     “Cooper, stop licking!” I scold.

     Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!

     “Cooper, I said stop it!”

     Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!

     “What are you doing?” I say as I look down at my feet and Cooper.

     Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!

     Cooper is now licking the floor. His long pink tongue laps at the hardwood floor.

     “Cooper, what are you licking?” I push his head away to see what has his interest.  There under his paws and under his nose are scales. Fish scales. Scales from the little tetra that Sam the Killer Cat had impaled with his claws and devoured for a snack the day before. “Awe, Cooper,” I whine. 

     I get up and go to the kitchen sink to obtain a wet sponge. I wipe up the scales that are dried and spread over a small area of the hardwood floor. I look to the left to see another patch of fish scales. There can be no mistaken. Sam had enjoyed the tetra and left remnants – scales – a little reminder of what was left of the fish.

     I wipe up the other small patch of scales. “All gone, Cooper.” Yes, the little tetra is just that – all gone.