A cat gets her back up one morning. |
My name is Zoe, and I am a calico cat. I live with my owner in Virginia and I have a pretty good life. Plenty of food, both dry and wet, kitty treats with flavors like beef, chicken and salmon, cat toys and even a scratching post. Sometimes I go outside and hide beneath the pines, but mostly I’m an indoor cat, content to perch upon the windowsill where I love to bask in the sun. Yeah, I have it pretty good. Thing is, though, I heard something just the other day that got me to thinking; indeed, it sorta got my back up. My purrs were stifled, and my tail was not it’s usual upright self. So, this morning I persisted in meowing to where I woke my owner. He slumped out of bed heavy with woe. But he checked my food dish, and my water dish, and both were just fine. Then, he muttered, “Okay Zoe,” wherein he opened the back door to let me outside. However, I didn’t want to go out; so I sat down, eyed him narrowly, and meowed markedly. My owner was a question mark in bed clothes and slippers. Guess it wasn’t fair to him, me acting this way—I wish I could somehow let him know what was irritating me. Yet all was okay after I calmed down, and we both went about our daily business. But it still piques me, even now, when I think about it—I had heard that these were the, “Dog Days” of summer, and, as a cat, that didn’t set too well. Why not, “Cat Days?” I had to protest. 40 Lines Writer’s Cramp 8-27-16 |