Well, I’m looking out our windows and there is the most beautiful after-rain sky with clouds moving slowly across the dusky colors of the golden hour and the terrace where I play all morning is soaked and disgusting so I can’t go out–my paws are damp because I insisted on getting out there, even though I know mama does not like me rooting around near her precious tomato plants, but there I went, stubborn as those donkeys she loves so much, and here I am, soaked to the fur and wet-pawed and scratching to get back in to my nice warm place on the couch near the fire, even if papa is watching the Grand Prix again and won’t give me the time of day. I guess these sentences can get pretty long and tiresome but sometimes I just like to let my little pea brain float and do a little stream of consciousness, which it was called in the sixties, I think, but of course, that’s assuming one is conscious at all, which in a kitty’s case, may be moot.
I like that word ‘moot’. Sounds like a shoe you’d wear in the mud, or something really yukkie that might come down a stopped up chimney. Anyway I like that word and even if what pours out of my kitty thoughts can be a bit arcane, it may be valuable to someone, somewhere. You just never know…
Now, I like a Grand Prix as well as the next kitty, but that sound–OMG–eheyowwwwwwww, eheyowwwwwwww, over and over again around those corners and down the straightaway and then every now and then some driver takes a turn just a little bit too tight and whammo, he’s sidewinding across the track, hoping to hit something that’s not too resistant. That’s what Massa did yesterday when I was watching the preliminaries. I thought I might be watching Nascar, but I was mistaken and there he went, slipping right into the wall sideways and I just know what he was saying because he beat his hands on the steering wheel five or six times and you couldn’t hear what he was saying and I’m sure he was NOT saying, “Gee, that was fun.”
Hey, that’s not Alonso!!!
So maybe this thing will be over soon and we can get back to scratching me on the head and paying attention to ME instead of those red cars that papa likes so much and then maybe we can look through mama’s cartoon book and see those drawings of cats doing funny things. To come…
