Younger cat does not like the real world so very much. She tried it once or maybe thrice, it was not for her. Older cat may have it that it’s interesting and exciting. Older cat could discuss all day the cut and thrust, the triumphs and near disaster of reality out there in that jungle that is theirs courtesy of Top cat. Younger cat knows better.
She awakes every day, not always early, with sleepy-eyed enthusiasm, ready for adventure. But it is the adventure of her own choosing, she is brave, noble and everything that is enterprising; patrolling her inner domain with a vigilance that would put the police force to shame. Each and every movement or noise, familiar or not is to be investigated and filed away neatly, in case . . . Her territory, she would tell older cat – if they were talking to each other – mostly they are not! her territory holds more dangers and potential chaos than any found in the jungle.
She sees terrors and dangers around every corner, under every table, along every bookcase. She fights with monsters so fierce that every claw has to come into play to vanquish them. She stalks the enemy with a stealth unsurpassed by any ordinary feline, balanced, crouching on hind paws only, for long moments of time, behind the sofa ready and more than able to take them down with one powerful leap. Sometimes, of course, the enemy proves to need caution in the attack. The action might need retreat and a regrouping to fulfil. She can do that, sees no disgrace in flight and having another day. A cat that does not believe in waste she will not squander her nine lives.
Monsters, enemies? Oh don’t let’s forget the dragons which take up a dubiously sneaky abode under covers, especially during bed-making, in plastic bags and behind cushions. She will hunt these daily, ready to rout them out, send them on their dastardly way. Almost dusting paws together ‘Result’ she would purr. She prowls the tops, high above her ground. When there are no large battles to be won she will search for those hidden creatures masquerading in seeming innocence as cotton reels, crochet hooks even sometimes vegetables. The rotters! She’s onto them. When sniffed closely, examined – it wouldn’t do to make a mistake – she will cup her paw, claws extended and contemptuously toss them to the ground. They will try and escape to be sure but, as lightening, she strikes. Her bounds from top to ground would put Superman to shame. She will dispatch either in a swift efficiency or, as it sometimes happens when the hidden ones put up a spirited defence, she will have to chase, pounce maybe roll over and over in her attempt to slay her prey.
She can perform elegant and graceful kills, balancing on her back haunches and sitting up with just her fore paws she can be found twirling, throwing, catching, batting from paw to paw, whatever prey is in her mind. Higher and high she rolls them until she reaches high above her, barely touching ground with her toes.
She has no problem conjuring up ghost and as far as I can know, vampires and werewolves. Ghosts float in every spare space she looks at. She can, however, stare them down into whisps of air.
Snakes now. They are a constant threat. One sneaks up from behind. She will freeze and eye it over her shoulder. Watch her muscle tense as she waits for just the right moment not just to strike but to keep them it in view, for they are as fast as she. As she turns so too will the snake move attempting to keep behind her always, but over her years of protecting her domain she has mastered speed and mostly catches the prize, it is always a battle to keep hold as she moves around. She is, however, the master of all she surveys including that tail!
She is all things, intrepid explorer, mighty slayer of dragons and snakes,ghost buster, cicus entertainer. She can scale towering heights, balance on a high rail above the abyss, leap from one impossible surface to another and fly.
Her imagination amazes me. On her nightly prowls does she read the books on the shelves? Was she born out of step with her natural world? I was one such as a child, fighting bravely, winning, being every kind of hero, more at home in my head than on the playground. Is younger cat a kindred spirit, maybe both of us were left by the elves! I am left wondering though,should younger cat be the writer?