She could recall when she had met the Gloses’. It was on a fall afternoon, when the kennel was closing to visitors for the day. She remembered that when the door opened to the cattery, there was a cold rush of air. She viewed her visitors from her barred home. She had always wanted to have the freedom to run in and out of her cage at will like the other cats, but she was forbidden to do so by a firm hand and a cooing voice. She was small for her age and “breed-blend” . Her mother’s Norwegian stocky build got misplaced somewhere in the gene pool but it did leave her with a long, “tufty” coat and a mock lion’s mane. She inherited her mother’s royal stance of a ballet dancer ready for her barre exercises. Her feet were white with the front two splayed and the two back feet invisible in their gracious support. Her father, a rangy, wanderlust tabby with a wide, agreeable face, left his mark as well. The tabby trademark of the M on the forehead was unmistakable. She also inherited his way of peering in such a way that all creatures interpreted this expression to say, “I never take anything at face value.” Her only other expression was an incredulous one specifically when common sense was not being exercised in the scenario that she was to play out . Her father’s tabby M imprint did not continue to extend itself to add stripes to the rest of her face. Her mother’s Scandanavian bearing wanted all to know that her offspring’s ancestors had relished powdery snow on their faces and bellies as they hunted for vermin. Her mouth was small, round with pursed lips. Her nose was a small hill with a pink and tan apex that had melted snow at the base. One of her eyes was a blurry charcoal line, since it was removed when she was an infant. Her other eye was translucent green with bright blue flecks. This eye was inexhaustibly working overtime, seldom wandering from the subject of its gaze. This was Alice or as the
Gloses crowed when they met her, “the One-Eyed Wonder”.She was four months old and insistent on batting Victoria’s, her human mother, earrings. She chomped on Nina’s, her human sister, hair and she attacked Timothy’s frayed shoelaces claiming him as her brother, whom she could always torment. She endured the long, nauseating ride in a yet smaller box-like cage, when she felt this cage lift up and out, rocking side to side. This rocking , swaying movement pulled on her psyche for a dream second and the colder air entered her cramped container, her eye attempting to adjust to the fading daylight, awakened her. Her airlift ended; the air was warmer. She was on solid ground again. Her barred door opened slowly and her adventurous ancestors’ DNA created static for her to leave her tiny quarters and venture out. Her ever-vigilant eye peered at her new surroundings, her nose, shell-shocked from all the familiar and foreign odors. She was home.
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE Read more articles by Victoria Glose or search for other articles by topic below.