In the olden days, in our house in Folcroft, we had a very formal living room. The living room had fanciful furniture and our entertainment center. We had the sofa facing the entertainment center with the love seat 90 degrees to next to it. Across from the sofa was a single chair with a footrest.
One day, a year during which I was still in grade school, we were watching TV together. Our cat Skinny was with us as well. He wanted to jump onto the footstool and have a seat to join the family. So, he went through the normal motions. He tensed up, shook his tail in preparation, and then made the leap. The leap took him soaring into the air and right past the footstool. We saw him and we laughed.
Cats have a very large sense of ego. Cats were once worshiped as gods, after all. Suffice it to say, cats don't like to be laughed at. Skinny looked up at us. He then began to stretch out, as if to say, "I meant to do that, dammit." He then walked up the stairs to leave us mere mortals below him.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment