Tin foil. From a cigarette pack. It's a cat toy. Been a ritual since it was a kitten. I'd tap the pack against the butt of my palm, strip the cellophane and crunch it and open the pack.
By the time it came to stripping of the foil there's a pair of eyes, somewhere close by, scrutinizing every move of my hands with a glittering intensity.
I throw it, she springs after it, bats it around for 2-3 minutes and loses interest. Been doin it for years. *yawn* It was 'cute', now it's just ritual. And, I gotta pick the little foil balls up all the time. They turn up in interesting places.. but I digress.
Back to the ritual. Tonight, she does the usual bit.. tenses up like a coil spring, launches after the foil ball while it's still airborne. The tin ball hits the floor; the cat lands.. stops and starts to give herself a freakin bath. As an afterthought she pauses, looks at the ball, then walks a few paces away, sits and stares at me.
'now, this is odd', thinks I and we stare at each other for a few long moments, and then it's my turn to get bored. I reach for the keyboard, and the moment I look away the cat expodes on the tin ball. Total side assault, ball goes flyin; cat goes rippin after it, does a full four paw wall spring with incredible precision to intercept a ricochet... at last the attack drifts on into the kitchen.
And then I had an epihany. Guile.. instant mood changes. demanding. unexplainable. unfathomable. and occasionaly possesed with instant tenacious ferocity... cats really are women in lil fur coats.
