saturday, october 1, 2000
These days life in the Kitten Room is one long Salmon-Snack-induced rave in a mosh pit.
The kittens spend hours careening into each other at high speeds, spinning through the air with arms and legs spread like furry Frisbees, hurling one another against the walls, smacking into each others' chests with heart-stopping wallops.
From the dining room during our quiet suppers, we hear rib cages bouncing off the walls, pelvises cracking against the floor, skulls bouncing off baseboards. . .
Late other night, for instance, I was trying to sleep.
From the Kitten Room came constant thunderations. Whomp! Bang! Thud! Crunch!
Then, CRASH!!!
Surely the chest of drawers had gone over! I sprang up and flung open the door, expecting to see tiny arms and legs sticking out from under the large, splintered hunk of furniture.
Then I realized it was pouring down rain outside, and the sky was filled with lightning. What I'd heard had been just that: a crash of thunder.
More about Chessie...
Friday, December 06, 2024 © Marel Trout
