Saturday, November 19, 2005

Mad Winter Cats

There are times you need a camera to capture the ludicrous. Through the glass, I saw a striped grey-and-white cat, huddled down in the gold and red fall leaves, front paws tucked under her, tail tucked alongside her flank. Black cat not happy. Last time I looked, she had her warm place, he had his. But no longer. He was slow-motioning towards her, one soft black paw suspended in the air, then lower to the ground, and lower still until it rested in the leaves. After a moment, the next front paw lifted, as he centipeded his way towards her, eyes on her face. A cat's length apart, he meowed. She sat still. He looked at her straight and meowed. She sat still. He moved closer. She sat still, eyes closed. He meowed loudly and puffed his tail. She snarled. He howled. She went back to being motionless. Closer he came. She twitched an ear, maybe. Closer together became his battle cries. And now to avoid nose to nose, he averted his face and screamed at the air, as his tail fattened into black spikes. She didn't move. But her eyes were open. He turned back and moved so that now they were nose to nose, and he screamed in her face. She arched back. Suddenly they were a ball of black and grey-white striped fur, tumbling through the leaves. Suspended briefly apart, she shot out of the yard, he in pursuit biting her backside. The leaves settled back down.

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Update: I saw the striped cat a couple of days later. She seemed just fine. No sign of the black cat though. That's cats for you. They give you a heart attack and then walk around later, going "what's your problem?"

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