Landing At Bedsend
The cat, crouched, by nature defaulted for inexplicably timed erratic behaviour, and pondering God only knows what, I mean good God, what could it be she ponders, catches me not so surprisingly unaware and leaps from the nearby recess between bed and bedside table, uses the back of my resting hand as springboard, albeit an old, craggy, veiny, dried out, scaly and scabrous springboard, and with razor claws inserted just briefly into one of my wrinkles, catapults herself with pun-less abandon high into the air, grinning or smiling it seems with whiskers folded back by the force of her flight, and pausing briefly in mid-air to wave to the adoring crowds packed sardine-like behind barricades, lands at bed's end, where she promptly closes her eyes and falls asleep.
View current page
...more recent posts