There is a basement. The basement has a floor and walls and windows, and hanging across the ceiling are several sheets that hide ugly pipes and floor boards. A flight of stairs, open on one side (although with a banister, because safety is important), goes up to the rest of the house. A snake lives in the basement, in a tank, in the basement.
The basement is located in a house. The house has a cat. And a cat door. And many cat toys. The cat is young and very curious and also will poke people in the eye if they wrestle with her.
The one place the cat is not allowed to go is the basement. This is due to the presence of the snake. When in the same room, the two have long staring contests in which each creature asks itself "what is this? Can I play with it? Is it edible?"
The cat really really really wants to go into the basement. Not only because of the interesting and possibly edible snake, but also because it is the One Place She Cannot Go. (I assume this is how she thinks of it, all the words capitalized, because it is a place name and therefore a Proper Noun. I assume cats understand the importance of proper punctuation.)
Once in awhile the cat manages to sneak into the basement, usually when it is occupied by a human, who scoops her up and carries her back to the many places where cats are allowed. Like anywhere in the rest of the house.
Occasionally, the human in the basement tries to scare her away when she gets too interested in a slightly opened door or the top of the stairs. This is done by making monster noises and running towards the intruder. The intruding cat then runs to the safety of Anywhere But The One Place She Cannot Go.
Except when the monster noises are so frightening that instead of running UP the stairs to safety, the cat tries to run through the convenient space right next to her. Which leads to...nothing.
In a desperate attempt to defy gravity, the cat claws wildly at the air, connecting with one of the sheets that is hanging from the ceiling. The weight of the cat (who is no sleek and fit feline, but actually rather tubby) strains the thumbtacks holding one end of the sheet to the ceiling and they pop off, allowing the cat to swing Tarzan-style through the air until she lets go, twists wildly, and falls on all four feet on the ground.
Then, while the human almost dies from laughing, she hides under the bed in shame and won't come out.
The morning after this debacle? She tries to sneak into the One Place She Cannot Go.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment