my entries for the Construct Cup |
it is morning and she’s heading for the door, my door, my she, and I twine around the legs of my she to remind her— it’s time for my food in my little dish in my corner, not the icky dry food my she sometimes buys that I refuse to eat because I deserve better, but my soft food that comes from cans. I wish my she would learn to open more quickly. and then she leaves because it is my time. I check every room for my toys, but my she accidently left the door to my toilet closed, and the white sheets that shred so nicely are locked away. and the bin has nothing good smelling— only white plastic. I check, because sometimes she hides good things to eat there for me to find. I stalk my perimeter, making sure every window is looking out on my bushy prey and my scampering prey and my flying prey— my she feeds them so they linger and I watch them and plan their deaths. I climb the curtain that my she calls lace, which has little holes perfect for my claws, and curl on my window sill to bask in my sun. I like the warm. when she comes home I am not happy because she is mine and she is changing clothes as though it is time to leave when it is my time. I think my she is going to see him. I do not give my permission for my she to let him into my home. he is rough and smells of canine and is not worthy of my she. I scratched the leg of him. the blood of him tasted sweet when I cleaned my claws. Prompt for: May 5, 2016 ERE ▼ |