TUESDAY: Damned Spot

BY CATHERINE SWORD

Copyright is held by the author.

YOU SLEEP deeply on the couch, the sun blanketing you lightly. Your small face tucks neatly atop your back legs. That black spot on your pink nose twitches in the fluffed, jet black and snow white fur, hinting at mouse dreams. Dreams of all the kills you’ve had and those to come.

Stalking in the overgrown yard your fur is simply shadows approaching quietly on the prey like the sun moving across the sky. Slow. Slow. Slow paws like cat tai chi with moves such as “draws blade of grass aside” and “dagger piercing.” A secret little meal of mouse brains before quietly depositing the body in a convenient location for human sharing at a later time.

You sleep lightly in the dark at the foot of my bed until your body cannot stand the tension and must stretch. Run! Stalk! It’s urgent. Meow! NOW! Now! At 4:17 am words stumble across my brain, trip in my throat and finally croak, “No. No.”

Damned cat persistence. Meow! Meow! Meow! Until my brain negotiates with my body, decides that in the long run it’s better to get up, stumble on numb, sleepy feet to the front door and hold it open for the serene cat to survey the wide world from the safe doorstep.

“Out!  Out!”

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