Monday, October 10, 2011

A Roar in the Jungle -- by KittyCat

I’ve tried, but can’t reach and knock a card off Mom’s magnet board. It’s a reminder to “protect your special friend with an annual check-up.” Bull. It means “torture time.”

The very worst doctor day was a couple of years ago. Curled up comfy in a flower pot, and kinda daydreaming, I imagined I looked just like the jungle cat on a picture I saw once. And that's not so crazy, because I've heard Mom say we become what we think, and it's even in the Bible somewhere.

I opened my eyes and thought I saw a cat’s rump sticking out a bit between the peony bush and the corner of my house. I slipped down from the planter to get a better look. Sure enough, I discovered an orange tabby cat sleeping in my jungle territory. Warning him to leave immediately, I roared so loud I thought the whole neighborhood gasped with fright. Well, maybe the whole neighborhood did, but not the tabby. He jumped on me, scratching and biting.

I don't remember, but maybe I screamed. Mom rescued me, and all worried about diseases, she took me to the doctor. I thought the vet people would call the animal police to take that devil cat to jail. Instead they just laughed, “Got in a little tussle, huh?” The vet poured stuff on the bites that hurt worse than they did in the first place. Then, she stuck me with a needle. There’s more. She said it was almost time for that every-year shot. She pinched me real hard and stuck me again.

Mom looked all smiley as she put me in the car. “What a relief! Thank you, Lord, for protecting my precious kitty.”

Yeah, right. Thanks a ton. I looked at her and hissed.

(c) 2011, Bernice W. Simpson

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