Somewhere on the chilly ground, a very large bat was trying to get airborne again. It had already been stunned twice, once by a carelessly opened shutter and once by a ballistic garlic sausage, and wasn’t feeling very well at all. One more setback, it was thinking, and it’s back off to the castle. Besides, it’d be sunrise soon. Its red eyes glinted as it looked up at Magrat’s open window. It tensed – A paw landed on it.
The bat looked around.
Greebo had not had a very good night. He had investigated the whole place with regard to female cats, and found none. He had prowled among the middens, and drawn a blank. People in this town didn’t throw the garbage away. They ate it. He’d trotted into the woods and found some wolves and had sat and grinned at them until they got uncomfortable and went away. Yes, it had been a very uneventful night. Until now. The bat squirmed under his claw. It seemed to Greebo’s small cat brain that it was trying to change its shape, and he wasn’t having any of that from a mouse with wings on.
Especially now, when he had someone to play with.
Terry Pratchett - Witches Abroad