The Climb
I shift and stretch lazily in the evening sun. Reluctantly, I open an eye, seeking the source of what wrenched me from my blissful dream. There, it flits about again. A whirling array of colors spinning and dancing about the floor daring me to chase, to catch. I restrain my desire to pounce and gaze upward instead. Glittering and barely spinning above is the true catch. It dangles from the giant wooden flower, teasing me, seemingly out of reach. I listen carefully and hear the tall one chattering and moving about, but they do not seem to be heading this way. I am alone with my prey for now.
I survey my options and my eyes settle on the fabric trees on either side of my favorite birdwatching spot, so tantalizingly close to my prey. I slink with practiced ease towards the closer tree and launch myself. My claws sink deeply into the fabric, supporting my weight as I begin my climb. Soon I am perched on the metal branch above, a mere pounce from my prize. But no, I shall not pounce at this great height. I reach tentatively towards the wooden flower with a paw. Carefully, I test the smooth petal, pleased to see it seems sturdy enough to climb onto. I am ever closer to my prey yet it twirls and sparkles without a care. I am directly above it now and I slowly reach my paw down between the petals towards the glittering orb. I feel its cool surface on my pads and rejoice at my victory.
But I have miscalculated, and severely. As I bring the prize closer, there is a tug and a click. The wooden flower begins to hum and the petal beneath me trembles. I feel my once stable perch move, pulling me away from my prize. It picks up speed and my displeasure shifts to panic. I desperately try to sink my claws into the wood, but it resists. I slide helplessly to the edge and soon I am tumbling through the air. In a disgraced heap, I land among the soft rocks on the tall one’s preferred lounge space. I gaze annoyed at the noisy whirling flower above as I work to fix my disheveled coat.
I hear and then see the tall one as he enters the room and looks at the flower. He shakes his head and makes indecipherable murmurs. He effortlessly reaches up and tugs on my lost prize. Soon the flower quiets and becomes still once more. I wrinkle my nose as the tall one approaches me. He is wearing the smell again, the one that makes me sneeze. I get a far too brief scratch behind my ear and soon I am alone again. I hear the door to the noisy world open and close, signaling the tall one’s departure. Alone, yes. I gaze up at the sleeping flower then to the slightly rumpled fabric tree. I miscalculated once, but I am no kitten. I will have my prey eventually. I give my paw a final lick. I am a determined hunter and with the tall one gone, I have all night.
I hope you enjoyed this adventurous tail… ahem… tale. What misadventures have your pets had? Share them in the comments!
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