Black-eyed Lighting (Bel) is a hurricane, a tempest, a storm of maximum cat-pacity, but she is outshadowed by a little hellion of fur, she's outshadowed by Charli.
Our little adopt-a-cat was only supposed to visit. With her tiny pink tongue, yellow eyes and grey streaked tabby coat, little miss innocent stole our hearts. We told our son Josh to leave her at our house for just a little while. She stayed overnight. We adored her. She jumped at our feet when we rolled over in our sleep. She purred in our faces as she snuggled deep into the comforter wrapped around our bodies. She stayed for another day, and night.
We bought her a litter box. It didn't seem fair that she should use Bel's. It wasn't dignifed. Besides, Bel's litter box was high on a shelf in the basement, put far away from a hungry puppy now indifferent to the tasty treats hidden in the sand.
She went home and we cried. We missed her. She was the echo and the reverbation of Bel's former playfulness. The stately queen made way for the princess, and the princess became pampered.
Litter boxes changed to squeeky mice and fluffy puffballs that skittered across the kitchen floor.
And little puss, Charli stayed. Her playfulness welcome and her purrs appreciated.
Now big puss patiently watches little cat, but it is an eerie calm that promises to explode the very next time Bel's little box of sand is claimed as kitten territory.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
What the nose knows
Root Beer's first bath
No comments:
Post a Comment