A cat can be a fluffy ball of gray mist that lingers through whichever room you inhabit; generally swishing slowly from one part of it to another. But at other times, she can suddenly streak, like a silver bolt of lightning with fur, throughout the house on pattering feet. She is a sweet, pink-mouthed poof-ball who wants to snarf up whatever treats she might wring from you. When she’s content, she’s like a fluffy predawn-colored ferret with her face tucked under her tail. Her nose is like the warm yet damp, pink breath reflected back from the inside of a shell, and her eyes are like glistening, green-and-black, fish-eye marbles. Her ears are full of soft fur like the softest tufts of a cottony cloud, and her tail is like a bottle-brush made of angora fur and long, wispy feathers. Her toes are delicate; firm yet still soft. Her claws are like little sharpened knives that she doesn’t quite know what to do with; they get stuck in the carpet sometimes when she walks, as though she decided to start sewing with her little needles in the rug. She thinks she is part cat, part dog, part bird, and part human. She rolls over for belly rubs just like a puppy, chirps like a bird, and gives hugs, wrapping her paw and arm as far around you as it will go, while looking up at you with pure adoration. She is your companion, your constant shadow, your gentle heart. She is your joy.
© The Fairy Tale Garden 2019