Joelly Pants is sleeping soundly on the blanket, while treading the fine line between dreaming and dreading, the two modes of existence, he's most familiar with. I walk around the rooms of the house in a steady pace, no sudden movements, creating a predictable tapestry of homely background noise so as not to break the spell. This is his dream, culled off the top of his head: "There's a nice birdie, totally oblivious of me crawling on my tummy towards her. A few meters to go and she's mine forever. Oh, no, I think she's spotted me. She's looking askance at me, in clear disapproval of my endeavor. Now I must stay completely motionless for a good while...if I can...so she'd think I'm part of the turf and don't harbor any antisocial urges. While I'm lying like that, in wait for the right moment to strike, I might as well snooze a little and dream about times gone by, when there were a bunch of us and I wasni on me own. Norsky was here, Aerial was here, Wimbelina, my sister, was here and even our mom, Bonnie, was here. Those were the days, and I kinda miss them, despite me then being at the bottom of the social structure. Now, I'm the top cat alright, but there's no joy in it, it feels kinda vacuous going on living without the pride. Maybe that's why I yowl so much these days. Ffs. it can be quite annoying even to me, but once I get started, I keep going at it. The birdie is gone too, and I'm hit once more by bright, brutal reality. I guess, I can stop pretending to be a furry rug. I should rather get back to base for another round of delicious dietary pellets. The humdrum noises of a cockamamie human are reaching me now. No respect for an auld feline at all, as per usual. Time to wake up!"
No comments:
Post a Comment