Monday, March 19, 2007

Biting cold.

All day we stayed in, curled round the warmth of the house until evening. She listened to music, a tale about a red cat, and She painted, .
The sun was sharp and the wind was biting. The Wind Cat had called his friend from the North, and the North Wind Cat has claws that are sharper.
But in the evening we walked in bright sunlight to the top of the hill where the horses sheltered from the worst of the wind. On the pathway up to the top of the hill we were watched as we walked, sunshine making a fire of our red-cat fur.

1 comment:

Rosie Bee said...

Ah Jackie I love your cat tales, they are just magic! I read to my 3 fur babies these stories as they lie,limbs stretched akimbo in the warm tropical evenings.
If you have not already, read the short story "A canticle for roadcat" by Robert James Waller. I weep hot fat tears every time I read that story. (if you google you will find it).