Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Calm (emotionally) (09/13/07)
TITLE: Fish: A Cat Story
By April Bailey
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“Fish!” I lifted my leg with the eight extra pounds of dark fur clinging to it. “Stop!”
She released me, dropping into stalker mode on the carpet. I saw her wind up, saw the wiggle in her hind end, and leapt onto my bed just in time, covering my feet with a pillow. “Ha!” I laughed. “You missed!”
Undeterred by her failed pounce, the petite ninja joined me on the bed. She hunched and lowered her lids at me, those smoldering eyes—sometimes green, sometimes gold—a tantalizing drug, enticing me to lower my guard. A rumble rose as that delicate head approached … purring. “Aww,” I reached out, “my little baby.”
That’s when she struck, taking down my arm with her girth, wicked paws, and incisors. I rocked back, hoping to extract the chunk of palm flesh from her mouth, when she relinquished her hold, diving at my feet behind the fallen pillow. Sneaky girl. I’d fallen for her diversion, and once again my toes had become chew toys beneath my irresistible cotton socks.
I screamed and laughed, wrestling the speckled huntress away from my digits. I scooped her up then, my beautiful black kitty, streaked with caramel and cream. Lowering my face to hers, she purred with vigor, stretching her small head upward to give me a cold kiss with her nose. Reaching out with a paw, the tuckered girl spread her toes, allowing me to rub between her squishy pads. Typical Fish. At this point, sometimes she’d fall asleep in my arms, sometimes she’d wriggle away and squat in pod mode on the carpet, the bout of playfulness abated until the next time.
Fish has a clear sense of her place in the family. When we lounge, she doesn’t lay beside me, she lays on me, wielding her eight pounds like royalty, claiming me as her throne. When she bites up the blinds, leaves toys in the bathtub, chews on any and all cables, or baptizes my socks in her water dish, I find it more adorable than annoying. While I have spritzed her with water and given disciplinary pats on the hind quarters, she knows I would forgive her for reducing my home to rubble. I know she loves me, and by its very nature—whether dispensed by man or beast--love is intoxicating. I am powerless when it comes to this tiny creature, my pet.
I’ve never met a cat like Fish. She’s a seductress, hypnotizing visitors with those gem-stone eyes, making them not only fall for her but inquire if I’d sell. [The answer is NO, by the way!] Curiosity hangs heavily on Fish, and she explores the house each day as if she hadn’t just done it the day before. She also manages to get comfortable on every forbidden surface in the house—kitchen counters, the dining room table, my husband’s nice shoes, our desk. This mischief-maker, who has two white whiskers mixed in with the inky others, bombards me with soprano meows during feedings, hoping it’s tuna day. How could I not adore such weirdness? Despite sneak attacks and a serious sock fetish, she brings peace to my home and joy to my heart.
Thanks, Fishy girl. – Love, Mama
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