The orange cat strolls
Silent, deadly triumph grin
She saw the mouse first
The orange cat is a Maine coon cat that lives with my neighbors. Elegant, wily, and willful, she terrorizes mice, chipmunks, squirrels throughout the neighborhood.
I grew up with a succession of cats, one at a time living with my family. Each cat had his or her own distinctive personality and joys. The first cat taught me about purring, a little girl falling to sleep the first night with her beloved kitten making a strange rumbling sound that meant it was sick and was going to die. Another often stayed out all night and came home for breakfast, bandaging the wounds from a pleasurable evening out. Still another buoyed and encouraged me by sleeping in my lap as I rocketed through long nights of reading and typing papers for graduate school.
The orange cat and I share a mutual respect for and mistrust of one another. She is a beautiful beast, healthy and passionately devoted to her art of the kill — and appreciates my garden that lures small creatures to their doom. Mistrust erupts when I have to bribe my dog to come inside when he is hoarse from barking at her pleasure-filled taunts, especially when she interrupts her early morning hunts and I don’t want him to wake up the neighbors.
A dog is simple
Devotion, loyalty, joy
Wags eager to play