We are a zero-cat family, well that’s not necessarily true we are a zero-this-side-of-the-Atlantic family whereas Mrs G’s mother lives in a Three-line abode. Geddit, three-line. It’s feline but with three in, because she has three cats. In fact I should have mentioned that first.
I’ve agreed that should anyone but me organises it then the cats can come over because I don’t believe in animal cruelty and Mrs G’s two cats are terrorising the unfortunate incumbent feline.
These are the two terrors, Bella the aloof and rotund alpha cat on the left and Olivia the stupid cat savant who is as deadly a killer as Jean Reno or Smallpox.
They’ve been exposed to me for a week at a time so are used to me but an extended stay does make me worry about what they will think of me.
Thought processes of Bella, the cat who could but doesn’t see why she should
Oh, it’s you the smaller tin opener. I’m waiting. I’m looking at you, the more you try to avoid my stare the more I’m going to keep looking. I allow you a few hours peace not because I respect the boundary between Master and Servant (look how gracious I am allowing you to live in my house) but because when you are tired you take much longer to prepare my meal.
I’m still looking at you, I have no need for anything now but I need you to know that there is a speck of dust slowly falling towards the spot you are sitting and I think you should move to one side for your betters. This is intolerable behaviour, my personal heroine the Dowager Countess of Grantham, would have something to say about this but as I don’t deem myself to learn the language of barbarians I can only assume it will be meow meOw MEow.
The thought processes of Olivia, the cat who COLOURS DOGGY PEW PEW
Oh, it’s you. Look it’s a sunbeam. if you spell that backwards you get maebnus. It means nothing but that’s cool to know.
Hungry, remembering last time. If I put my face in it and move my mouth I get less hungry. Not sure how. Magic. Maybe magnets.
I can see a fly. Buzz buzz buzz, I imagine that sometimes I’m a fly. Buzz.
When I close my eyes the world stops and I hear the echoes of time, it sounds like opportunity and the echoing tones of things that could be.
What do you call a fly with no wings?
[Sudden flick of the paw as Olivia cleanly removes the wings from the bug flying around her head]
A wingless fly.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Menagerie.”
Do you have animals in your life? If yes, what do they mean to you? If no, why have you opted not to?