I've noticed lately that the door to the hall is occasionally closed. And on one of these occasions, I peered under the door. And I saw four black feet, some black whiskers and possibly but I can't be sure, two green eyes staring back at me. I had to lie down to recover.
Could it be Olive? Is she back: thinner, younger, full of life, a feline Lazarus? The very thought makes me sweat a little. Eventually, when the door was open again, I made sure everyone knew 'I am here and rule this joint'. I galloped very quickly and very loudly from the bathroom to the living room, jumping like a gazelle over the backdoor step and onto my table. I am pretty sure even Aslan would have heard me and recognised my majestic and powerful mighty-ness. (It gave me wind, but I am certain it was worth it.)
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2 comments:
Dear Fat Cat,
I think you should be careful. All that jumping around and exercise could be bad for you. Especially since they've mentioned in the human press that we're all getting too big for our paws. Watch out or she'll have you on the IAMS diet...
love
A Not So Fat Cat
Dear Louise
How very sweet of you to think of my health. It seems most people round here are more interested in someone else - a someone else I can't see but who I think lives in MY bedroom.
I did hear of obsesity becoming a problem for us kits, but frankly I'm ready to embrace it, stare it in the face, shout about being stout...
And she's got me on some small, brown pellets already. They look like rabbit droppings and I have to chew very hard to get any benefit at all. Please send any food donations you can spare to Sasha, The Table, The Balcony, North London.
Au revoir.
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