[center][h1][u][color=HotPink]Clay McCog[/color][/u][/h1]
[i]Behind the Bodega - September 1st, 17:10[/i][/center]
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As much as he tried, Clay couldn't block out the sounds of cat calls.  However, he did manage to keep his instincts at bay by regulating his breathing like his therapist had taught him.  Breathe in while counting to four, hold breath while counting to seven, breathe out while counting to eight.  Breathe in while counting to four, hold breath while counting to seven, breathe out while counting to eight.

He eventually made it through the alleyway out to the back of Mr. Gar's bodega, and crossed the ditch over to the woods.  Phew.  While he could still hear the commotion and pick up the scent of cat, he was far enough away that his logical side could easily overpower his instinctual side.

[color=HotPink][i]Guess I'll be camping out over here for a while.  Luckily, this [/i]Feliking[i] fellow seems pretty physically weak,[/i][/color] the boy thought to himself, [color=HotPink][i]I estimate it'll take the other employees about five minutes to take care of him, and throwing in another ten minutes to turn the civilians back to normal, I'll just have to sit tight for fifteen minutes.[/i][/color]

As he pondered, a scruffy brown strolled out from behind a dumpster and hopped across the ditch, grabbing onto the other side with her front paws.  Mutt then pulled herself up and ambled over to Clay.
[color=HotPink]'Do not give me that look, I bet you have more trouble controlling instincts than I,'[/color] he motioned in slight irritation and sat down next to her.