white socks
I was walking back from the chip shop tonight, carrying my cholesterol-rich once-a-month treat. I noticed a cat walking in parallel, in the dark of somone's unfenced front garden. I made that special 'cat attraction' noise with my lips (that pouty, kiss-like 'pwoot, pwoot'), and s/he casually looked up, not even breaking h/is/er stride, and regarded me with snooty disinterest. I rustled my fried fish and chips, but s/he was still all disdain. Our paths diverged, and the cat faded into the gloom, until I could just see its four white socks, ghosting across the grass in smooth motion. Then even they disappeared. Very Lewis Carrol. A little tickle under the chin, a quick arch of the back, and a gurgly purr - is that too much to ask?
1 comment:
But they live to serve my needs. Don't they?
I'll give your approach a try and see if I can achieve a 'win-win' thing.
(Damn, I hate it when my unconscious assumptions about inter-species power relationships get surfaced. Thankfully, it doesn't happen that often. Maybe twice in my life so far.)
Post a Comment