La Catessa Makes Some Pithy Observations

 This day:  No kill.

The last day also:  No Kill

There was that other day with no kill also.

It goes on like this.

I was ready!  The hum was in my bones and flesh.  I waited. I could see under the big cold box. I waited.  I smelled something living.  I could feel a thing forming in my thoughts. I waited.

A cat can see under their undercounter cupboards too. An old scent lingers there.  No cat was ever more ready.

Catessa knows two things very well.  The best is to kill. She does not really know she is a cat, but she knows to hunt.  One day, she caught a mouse in this very house. She does remember this with relish. It died the death it deserved. 

I slapped it against the doors of the cupboard hard, until it stopped.  I bit it. Well, I wasn’t very hungry, but I bit it because it was my kill. A taste of blood. 

The next best thing she knows, she more than he because Toms are chummier and hang with people more, is comfort. Catessa is a comfort specialist.

She is the long distance sleeper.  She will lie in the sun until her fur is hot to the touch. Then she will take her load of heat to a shady spot and let it suffuse her being slowly.

At night, if the coast is clear, meaning Willie is positioned on my new office chair for the night, she will come to me.

For that reason known only to cats she will knead me good and hard for a while.  She is not very good about claws! Then she will settle down across me, lying like a lion.

This big soft warm thing is mine. I sleep here sometimes.

Sleeping together is a big deal with cats. Suzy is all about that.