The Great (Un)Fur-tunate Catnapping
I yawn at the obnoxious beings deforming each other's faces.
They spit colorful words. Fists swinging in a blur, pedestrians pass glances, yet no one intervenes.
I don't even have to guess the core of the crack.
“Give me back my money!” The man screams, knuckling the other.
I stretch out languidly, bored of human affairs. I hop down the tree, pacing off in boredom.
“Grumpy cat!” Lily, (I suppose that's her name), painfully screams the embarrassing name she tagged me.Â
She gleefully skips over, her chubby fingers ruining my styled fur instantly.
I purr in disapproval, leaning in her touch.
“That's my good little boy,” she rubs my chin, oblivious to the fact I'm old as her father.
“Meow?” I ask the bearable human for food.
“Hungry?” she guesses, fishing out a box from her loaded backpack. She peels the lid, presenting bland food like herself.
I dive in, nibbling the food. She scoots over beside me, dramatically heaving out.
“Mom still won't agree to let me bring you home,” she complains about her failed plans of caging me to her walls.
My tail swishes to show my mild attentiveness.
“Today, Sara tripped right in front of her crush.” She claps her knee, guffawing like an old human. “And Jason got in trouble for cursing at the teacher!...” She rambles on, spilling out tea about distasteful classmates.
After a few rounds of her stories and my belly welling up, I tidy up, licking myself clean.
“Today went smoothly. It's making me feel bold today,” she confessed. “I'm taking you home,” her grin spreads wider than a Cheshire cat as she plans to commit such blasphemy.
I protest loudly (and half-heartedly) as she engulfs me, laughing maniacally. I squirm in her surprisingly strong arms.
“C'mon, you get free food and a bed,” she advertises. I grumble in protest, melting to the offer. Snow is a few clouds away after all.
I scratch her arm nevertheless.
“Ouch!” she screeches.
“Okay, we get it, grumpy cat!” She laughs unbothered.
She pads us to her home as the sun dips below the horizon.
