“Enthusiasm, get your nose out of there,” yelled Mom.
Enthusiasm’s head narrowly missed being sandwiched between fridge and door and he flashed out of the kitchen to the safe distance of the front door where he sat licking a paw.
Enthusiasm was a dark, long-haired tortoise shell with a nose for trouble. The trouble was he just had to be the first to see, the one to know. If anything was behind, underneath or between he just had to discover what it might be. Was it edible? Did it move and need to be chased?
Many a boot had violently ended Enthusiasm’s choral creativity in the dark of night: could he help it if that’s when inspiration shed its light? No one understands the artist.
Enthusiasm loved to entertain. He sashayed around the living room, showed off his hunting trophies; an individual of class. As a performer he could put on quite a show filled with classic comic routines, or bring out the passion in stirring circular parades, purring loudly as he was petted and applauded.
Enthusiasm could not contain himself. The rustling movements of the shrub got the better of him and he crept carefully to the rear to see what caused it. Unfortunately it was the neighbourhood ridgeback who boomed out of the bush as Enthusiasm flickered up the nearest tree.
“Get lost, you mongrel dog,” bellowed Mom as she took after him with a broom, “You leave my baby alone!”
I have strange siblings.
Dad was shaving that morning when the foam and whiskers fell, missing the basin. Enthusiasm just had to know so he moved quickly before dad could remove that interesting blob. Unfortunately dad stepped forward to reach for a towel to wipe up his mess and stepped onto Enthusiasm’s foot. Enthusiasm howled and stuck his claws and teeth into Dad’s ankle.
“Argh, you stupid cat,” yelled Dad, and Enthusiasm flew through the air and past the bathroom door “Get out of here!”
Today is Wednesday 16th October 2013 and I turned to the web to see the topic for the writing challenge for this week. While I sat, staring at the screen Enthusiasm arrived purring loudly. Climbing through the loop in the chair arm rest, he marched rhythmically on my lap in time to his purr. Realising that my attention was fixed blankly to the monitor, he stepped circumspectly across my keyboard, observed, and touched the screen with his ever inquisitive nose.
It happened suddenly. Enthusiasm hissed and leaped across my lap to the floor hacking, choking and growling in fear as though something was stuck in his throat. Dad stuck his finger down his throat but to no avail. We thumped, squeezed and dug but without effect. All was too late.
It all happened the day we looked at the weekly challenge topic. Enthusiasm died.
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