Cat

"Maybe it’s an ocicat?" suggested the girl, crouching down to peer into the underbrush.
"A what?" a boy, about 15 dropped down beside her.
"You know, the half ocelot half domestic cats they’ve banned from importing? Maybe it’s one of them that got loose."
"Don’t be stupid. You watch too much TV. It’s probably just a normal feral. That’s why it’s so big and angry."
"It’s probably hungry. Cat’s like fish right? We’ve got some of that tuna with fancy stuff in it, you know what CJ has on her crackers for lunch when she’s dieting again."
"That stuff stinks. You reckon it’d eat it?"

The cat in question continued to stare balefully at the two teenagers. It was hungry and it wasn’t an ocicat and it had never been a pet. But it wasn’t a feral either.
Fish sounded good though, especially fish with ‘fancy stuff’ in it.

"Have to see. Can't let it starve, no matter what it is. I don't think it's just an ordinary cat though."

The boy snorted his disbelief. "It's just a freaking cat. You're being dumb again. I'm going home." He got up, brushing dirt off his knees, deliberately showering his sister with debris. She scrunched up her face as bits of twig and dirt came her way. But she didn't get up to join him.

"I'm staying. I want to figure out its name." she said to her brother's retreating back.

"Whatever. See you at home, don't forget we've got that stupid dinner with Aunty Steph. Mum'll kill you if you're late."

The cat reassessed the girl. She was small and wiry with dirty blonde shoulder length hair. She could be suitable, if she was really as perceptive and compassionate as she appeared. The cat stretched its neck forward, sniffing the girl's scent; grass, dirt, sweat, over laundry detergent, soap and shampoo over human girl. There was curiosity, but not the acrid tang of fear. She was cautious but prepared to believe in the best.

She would do.