Saturday, March 9, 2013

Baby Kitty

I am house sitting. They have a cat. When he was younger he used to attack my legs with his teeth as a result of having been declawed.

The cat has since grown up. He's more interested in treats and going outside and being let in the exact second he meows at the door. Just like his owners do, I pet him while he eats. I fill his bowl with water and let him rub up against me as I walk. He no longer darts through the halls at my legs, and that has made the experience more fun.

It seems like there's still something I can't trust about him, though. It's not that his fur is clumping up or that his meow is louder. It isn't anything really. There is no proof. I jump a little when I see him coming around he hall. That's it.

Well, that and this. At 5am he pawed thoroughly at the door. He'll go away, I thought, but he didn't. He's a cat. He can't open doors. It was at this thought that the door creeeeeeeked open and very soon his booming meow came from on top of me, and his grey-orange eyes flickered in the sunrise.

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