Telling tales, of walking in wild places, of painting, of sleeping in warm places and of mice and other things....
Saturday, July 26, 2008
A place of safety
If I sit up here, high in the kitchen on the pink fridge, then the new thing cannot find me, for its legs are only short. And its fur is soft. And it runs around until it is worn out tired and then it flops and sleeps like a kitten.
When first we started there were four of us, all ginger, and Max. Time has passed. The ginger pride are ghost cats, appart from Elmo. Now the house holds Max, oldest, tabby farm cat, dark, usually found sleeping on a cushion, Elmo, last of the Gingers, beautiful handsome and wonderful who still walks to the high hill top. And now there is Baggage and Bundle, silver mischief in sharp clawed kitten form. The adventures continue.