I didn’t scratch or hiss at Mom when she scooped me up from my chair outside and plopped me on the living room floor. As quick as I thought about it, I remembered she turned on the computer, and I could write while she’s out today.
When she comes home, I’ll go outside and stay there until suppertime. That’s what I did all day yesterday and Monday. It was too nice out—like summer days, but better. Balmy, all day long.
I asked my tabby friend, Snoook, (not last time I saw her—there was no balmy in that conversation) why bombs were bad but bomby was good. She explained a whole bunch of words to me, and was so nice about it, I wondered if her real name is Snooker instead of Snookie. She could make me think something is true when maybe it isn’t.
For now, I’ll take her word for it. The week has been balmy—not oven-hot like the summer. Prettier, too. Colored leaves all over the grass, it looks something like candy sprinkles on cupcakes. That’s better than it looked all summer.
Tomorrow fall is coming back, and the next day it will even freeze. In winter I stay in most of the time, curled up on Dad’s jacket except when Mom puts it on a hanger, and mumbling how she’s not the maid, puts it in the closet. Dad and I like it on the chair. If we had a maid, Dad could fire someone for sticking stuff where he doesn't want it to go.
Since Vondell, the schnoodle moved away, I can't pester her from the brick wall in her yard, so yesterday I played savanna cat. I chased crickets, slapping one around until it wouldn't hop anymore, and then hunted for another. I caught leaves flitting down from trees or scooting across the grass. It wasn't as much fun as watching Vondell go crazy but when you don’t have someone to play with, you have to make up fun stuff.
The best thing about playing savanna cat is the pretend part, cuz I don’t have to watch out for getting tromped by elephants, and I can nap instead of hunting for food. Housecats get fed—some of them too much—I won’t mention who, or say that f-word that rhymes with cat.
I just heard Mom’s car. Good timing, cuz I’m gonna take a nap in my porch chair under the hanging plant that’s still got flowers. Or maybe I’ll lay on the porch table cuz kids coming home from school always smile, point and say how I’m so good looking.
It’s a pretty good life, being a handsome tuxedo cat.
(c) 2012, Bernice W. Simpson