Sunday, September 20, 2009

Cats make the best fighters

I crawled back into bed and slowly stretched my legs to the end, pushing gently against the weight of a small, warm animal which had burrowed itself under the covers during my absence. It must be Peaches, I thought, my sleepy subconscious ignoring the fact that she died 2 years ago. It began moving then and crawled towards the pillows, poking it's head from between the sheet and blanket, it sat on my chest and looked at me. It was a black cat with white paws and white on it's chest. I said to it, "you're not Peaches". And it replied, "No, Peaches doesn't live here anymore. Now I do." I said, "No, you don't" and made a move to push the cat off the bed, not thinking it at all strange that it spoke to me. Before I could move it though, it said, "You know, cats make the best fighters" and it tried to pin me with it's front paws. I countered and managed to grab his front legs. I said, "Cats may be good fighters but you're still just a cat. I can take you." I sat up and picked him up by the scruff of his neck and carried him to the back door. When I opened the door, Peaches stuck her head out of a hole in the deck and looked at me with relief.

Then I woke up.

Yeah, I had a really good time last night.

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