Here’s the definition of WILDCAT that I found in my “favorite” dictionary, Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable (1970 edition):

WILDCAT: a FEMALE of fierce and uncontrolled temper is often called a wildcat for obvious reasons.

Dear Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, I “love” you so! I identify primarily as a human being, but you bring out the female in me. You define BULLDOG as a MAN of relentless, tenacious disposition. Is that for “OBVIOUS REASONS” also?

I was looking at the Wordsworth 2006 edition of the Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, which is an update of the original Brewer Dictionary, and the terms WILDCAT and BULLDOG have been taken out of it. Interesting, isn’t it?

Anyway, I had to give the WILDCAT a good name, and I wrote “SEVEN TO MIDNIGHT”, which is the story of Zoe Dark, who is a wild cat in a very literal sense, but also a bulldog. Check out how she does wild cat:

Here’s a scene where Zoe goes to see her friend, Wendy, who runs a shop.

“I need to talk to you,” I said to Wendy.
“Is this a lover’s spat?” Cue Ball slobbered, looking from Wendy to me.
His friend, Blondie, leaned over the counter and leered at me. They thought they were wolves. It made me want to laugh, or bite.
“Do you mind?” I snarled.
“Oh, we don’t mind,” Blondie smirked. “Actually, we’d love to watch you, girls, work out your problems.” He made a rude motion with his hand.
Cue Ball laughed. Weren’t they a pair of charmers!
“Would you like that?” I said.
I wanted to control my temper. I didn’t want trouble.
Who was I kidding?
I leaned close to Cue Ball. He stank of testosterone. Did these guys think they were such gifts to women?
I ran my finger across his muscle-bulging chest. He grinned, and his friend slapped the glass counter.
“Hot damn,” Blondie grunted.
Excitement filled the air like a burst of perfume. Under the scent, there was fear.
“Zoe,” Wendy hissed.
She sounded scared. For me? Or of me? It didn’t matter. It was too late to stop, and they were asking for it.
The black t-shirt parted beneath my sharp claw. Cue Ball grimaced as my claw bounced across his skin, leaving behind red beads of blood.
My mouth watered.
“Oh no, I shouldn’t draw blood.” I grinned.
I could feel my fangs. I bet my eyes were yellow. The wolf hadn’t gone too far.
That smell of testosterone changed to fear sweat. Cue Ball stepped back and stumbled into Blondie.
“I thought you wanted to watch,” I growled, the sound rumbling from impossibly deep inside my belly.
Cue Ball and Blondie lost their tongues, along with their healthy color. They turned white like ghosts.
“Zoe, please,” Wendy hissed. “You’re scaring my customers.”
“I came to scare you,” I growled, turning and grinning at her.
The two guys ran. Wendy flinched, but only a little.

See you,

Misty

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