Every night at about 10:00 PM Kiesha loses her mind and her evil twin emerges. About that time, I’ll hear a high pitched meow (where Kiesha gets her nickname of ‘Squeaky’) and the scritch-scratch of Kiesha clawing on the back of the couch. It’s like a mating call: ‘Come play with me or else I’m going to tear things up!’

‘Kiesh, get off of the couch!” She tumbles off of the back of the couch, eyes dilated so no iris is visible. She tries to get traction on the laminate flooring and fails, skittering until her body is carried forward by momentum of her jump instead of her paws insistent pushing. (Something about long-hair tufts on the bottom of the paws that prevents good traction…)

And she is off! Running through the living room to the office, trying to corner hard and missing. More sliding, spinning, and she bolts into the second bedroom. Just like a Sunday morning cartoon, some comes flying out of the second bedroom, tries to round the corner again (and fails again), and then bolts under the couch. She tries to stop to jump onto the sofa but has too much momentum. She turns sideways and thuds into the wall.

That high squeak of her meow fills the air. Another jump, twist, and the calico, miniature wolly mammoth is back on the sofa begging for play time.

Categories: Cats

Kim (Ceffyl)

Writing rider.


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