The Kitten Cuddling in my bosom, purring like a jet plane, Kitty cracks my shirt buttons in his sharp little teeth. The communiqué is clear: "I'm bored. Get up once! Leave that fiddly stuff; come play with me." If I miss the message, ever eager to clarify his next step will be cleaning off my desk.
The lion, tail twitching, silently stalked across the plush savanna. He’s spied a nut-brown orb hidden behind one of the dining room table legs and was approaching it with utmost stealth. His mind had turned it into a young warthog at a water hole and he was the ravenous beast of prey – though really he wasn’t all that hungry. Nevertheless, he was determined to capture and torture this hapless creature that dared to lie around so nonchalantly.
As he crept closer, the orb – actually a hazelnut dropped during the nut-cracking party two evenings ago – seemed to lie there helplessly awaiting its fate. The lion, tabby rather than tawny, reached out a paw and gave the creature a tentative tap with its paw. Did it have sharp fangs? Would it rear up and do battle? No. Not even a squeal. Rather, the hard-shelled thing lumbered under the table and hid in the shadows. Cowardly creature! Tearing it to shred was going to be piece of cake.
His strategy now was simple. With a flying leap his front paws landed on the creature. The blow would have crushed the spine of a true warthog, but this pee-wee brown thing was made of sterner stuff. It skittered away again, and the lion – mini but mighty – gave chase.
With a whack from his huge paw the creature rolled between two shoes. All the better! Here was a challenge. However, while he was wrestling the pee-wee mouse – for it was a baby mouse now – from between the running shoes, gnawing at the laces in his hunger and frustration – or just for fun – along came the Person of the house and ruined his adventure. As he rose into the air he saw his prey escape under the toe of one shoe.
The Person had scooped him up and was cuddling him. “You can’t tear my running shoes to shreds with your sharp little claws. Let’s see what else we can find for you.”
The lion, though he was ever so fierce, knew better than to wrestle with this tall tree of a Person, so he submitted to the indignity of being carried away to a chair and petted. As soon as he was released from captivity he leaped onto the savanna below, remembering his pee-wee mouse and those wiggling shoe laces. A moment later, however, a silvery ball began to move through the plush pile savanna.
Just as a gazelle grazing on the plains of Africa would catch the attention of his lion and tiger cousins, even so the glittering ball caught the mini lion’s attention. Back and forth his eyes flicked. Back and forth his fluffy tail lashed. His back rose in an arch as he slowly stalked the plump creature. When it suddenly made a dash to safety under a footstool, he gave pursuit. And when it darted out again, he was on it!
He’d come back and cuddle later. Right now he was the fierce hunter and there was tantalizing prey about.
The Ragtag Daily Prompt word this morning is GNAW
A mouse, creeping out in the night,
found cat food, to his great delight.
He’d just started to gnaw
when this huge furry paw
launched the poor mouse on a flight.
Our Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is WREST
One definition, according to M-W, is “to gain with difficulty by or as if by force, violence, or determined labor.” Our newest cat, Tuffy, though he’s only half-grown, doesn’t seem to have such great difficulty wresting small creatures from their hiding places, but I’ll use this word in my response. Since the writing prompt is to be a quick, fun thing I’ll offer my little rhyme.
The temperature has turned quite mild recently, to the delight of our cats. They’re ready to rush off to adventures whenever the door’s open. Yesterday Tuffy raced across the driveway, over the big snowbank on the other side left by the plow, and up into the crotch of a nearby tree. Heaven help the birds come spring! Last night when I let Tuffy out the back door he started nosing along the side of the trailer. Before long he stopped to investigate one spot intently.
Outside in a flash nosing in the tall grass surrounding our dwelling, Tuff found a small swelling. Oh, joy! 'Twas a hole smelling strongly of mole – or maybe a mouse entry into our house. A wee mole was stirring, his cat nature spurring his talon to wrest pipsqueak from its nest. That sad little creature became the prime feature in a game of delight for Tuffy last night.
A lively little pooch, we say, a silly scalawag with ears that never will stand up and plumy tail to wag. Considered all the normal names, then called him Mini-Wow. Because he's always in a rush to go somewhere, somehow. Shenanigans he's into would make the saintly bawl! And mother's moue was fearsome for that dead rat in the hall! He's carried off Dad's papers and battered Missy's doll; he's chewed my nicest slippers and punctured Tommy's ball. He’ll tear around the table, dash through an open door, chase his tail, plague the cat – why don’t his feet get sore? "If I had half his energy," Dad frequently exclaims, "I'd face each day with zoom and zip and join in all your games."
The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is HOWL
another sunny day at the city zoo: the monkeys howl the parrots squawk and all the creatures stare at tourists clicking phones 🙂