April 22, 2013

A Cat's Life #6

Good day all,

I'm back with another installment of A Cat's Life and yes, I'm still here in Kent.
After last week's wonderings, I made a drastic change to my life that means that for the time being, I have stayed put. However, now I will have more time to explore and that could mean sailing off elsewhere. I've been dreaming of taking on foreign lands and projects and yet designing my own Cafe Cat space in my head.
Oh dear life! Whichever way will you take me next? Make up your sweet little mind!
I think this quiet Monday night calls for a lot of lists and maps to be drawn up.

The week past was another peaceful one. The calm before the storm perhaps? Or the rainbow just after, like this one I caught while I supped a fine bottle of rouge outside the Chocolate Cafe in Canterbury with a fellow adventuress. 
What with spring finally making an appearance, we've been up in the woods with Bruce and checking out the seasonal action from the watchtower. Perhaps I'll take my notebook up there this evening? 
Perfect for a little scribbling, hey? 
Whaddya say, Brucie? Shall we go watch the sunset?
In other news, I befriended a mangy cat by the name of Pumpkin Pie. She hasn't had human pals for years apparently but with a little butter and weeks of short conversations, we've formed a tentative alliance.
Her back legs don't work very well so she drags herself around the farm quietly and will often stop to rest in the flower pots. Between you and me, I don't think she has very long left so I am happy to be her friend for the short while she's still with us.

I'd like to say the same for Buddy but he keeps bringing me dead voles and wailing at my window just before dawn breaks. The other morning I was dreaming that I had had a terrible nosebleed and when I awoke, my nose and mouth were actually very wet. For a moment I thought my dream had come true but then I opened my eyes properly to find Buddy sat squarely on my chest, hovering over my face.

DOING THIS.
It wasn't blood.
Oh no. 
It was the love liquid of a fiend most feverish in his attempts to win my soul for eternity.
Somehow, I don't think voles and saliva make a convincing bid. Do you?

Dream on, Buddy. Dream on.
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