I’m Always A Slut For Pesto

When we got our younger cat Skadi, her favorite toy was (still is, but she's calmed down with age) the rattley mouse. She would bring the mouse to be thrown for fetch so many times that not even two human adults in the house could keep up with her. So my partner started making puzzle boxes to put the rattley mouse in that would occupy her for longer.

So, we have a setup: mouse is in the puzzle box, puzzle box is on the floor, younger cat is trying to resolve the puzzle box, elder cat is sitting on the cat tree observing all this. Skadi spends about fifteen minutes trying and failing to get the mouse out of the box. She sticks her paw into the holes. She sticks her nose into the holes. She pushes the box to and fro on the carpet. She meows beseechingly for a human to come solve the problem. Sticks her paws into the holes again.

Finally, she gives up on the puzzle box and wanders over to see if there's any food to be had. As soon as she walks away the elder cat gets up from the cat tree, big stretch, jumps down, walks over to the puzzle box, hooks a paw under the edge and flips the whole thing over, spilling the mouse onto the floor.

~~~

Getting bitten by a zombie shouldn’t have been a relief, but I was so tired. All the panic and the scrambling for safety, and the paranoia that someone may have been infected without saying anything, and the aggravating frustration that this is so stupid; this shouldn’t be happening — it wears on the soul. So when I got my arm too close in pulling someone else to safety, and lost a painful chunk, all I could do was yell about it then get away.

Everyone saw, of course. Not that I would have hidden it from them because I’m not that kind of jackass, but it was embarrassing. Rookie mistakes get you killed. Or zombified, which is basically the same thing.

I didn’t object when the group locked me in a side room while they decided what to do long-term. I didn’t really know this gaggle of survivors that well, after all, and they easily could have just shoved me outside to join the shambling hordes. Nice of them not to. Those hordes will rip you apart if you’re not rotten enough.

So I just settled in as best I could on the folding chair among the boxes of junk, bandaged my arm with Kleenex and tape, then waited. The bandage was really just so it would stop dripping on my pants. I might as well be comfortable in my last minutes.

Those last minutes sure were boring. It had to be close to an hour by now.

I called through the door, “Hey, anybody got a magazine or something? There’s nothing to do in here.”

I’d hoped they would shove something under the door, but instead they just burst into furtive conversation. I sighed. Maybe there was something to read in the boxes. Pretty sure it was just office supplies, though.

I was turning the nearest box in search of labels when a voice sounded at the door.

“Are you still okay?” asked whatshisface the tall guy. Jared.

“Yeah, so far,” I said. “Not gonna lunge at you if you open the door.”

“How are you still okay?” he asked.

“Uh, what?” was my witty response.

Human: We just train new people how to do it?

Elf: *gears visibly turning in their head*

Human: Are you alright?

Elf: I just realized that we didn’t have to let that whole city fall to ruin just because my grandfather died.

Human: My cousin made it.

Elf: Impossible! Those metalworking techniques were lost a hundred years ago!

Human: What do you mean lost? My great-grandmother learned to make these swords from an elven smith, then taught it to her kids.

Elf: That's ridiculous. No elf would give such secrets to a human.

Human: They didn't. Meemaw delivered the metal to the forge, and no one kicked her out when she stayed and watched. She always said they barely acknowledged her even when doing business with her, like she wasn't worth noticing.

Elf: Come to think of it, my great-uncle always was rather single-minded when he started working.

Human: So he wasn't ignoring her, he just forgot she was there?

How to do heart-shaped cat-eye nail art BY a a金库