I was greeted a few minutes ago by a black cat who levitated like a flea, spun in the air and caromed off of the bookcase to the top of the curtain rod, from which he ran to the top of the bookcase and made a grab at the ceiling. His brother was a grey streak behind him. Then they careened across the room, over the desk, kicking off everything in their path, up the second curtained window to the bookcase. Down again, through the kitchen onto the bed, the windowsill, crashing through the bathroom (will my toothbrush ever be the same?) and winding up back on the front bookcase with a satisfying crunch. Smacking of chops. All I could hear were the thumps and crashes of crockery items giving up their lives and Olivers protesting voice - all in pursuit of . . . a fly. We MUST come to an understanding about flies.
Posted on: Tue, 03 Jun 2014 22:45:41 +0000
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