Beat The Clock

It is nice that Peaches

is playing for a change.

She is unusually dour for a cat.

Not much purring or rubbing

against your leg. She’s more of

a hissing and growling kind of

creature. Can’t say I blame her.

We stole her from a “home”

where she mostly lived

under the kitchen cupboard

for fear of either the two

poking boys or the small

yapping dog.

It has been five years now, and

finally she has learned to play.

Frisking after the soft orange ball,

the Halloween leftover with

googly eyes and stripes like hers.

Thundering up and down the hall,

chasing first the ball, then the

insanely squeaky toy. There is a

subtle thrashing, a tense silence,

a >THUMP< as she subdues the

purple feathered springy thing.

She is frolicking, energized,

using all her cat-ness in the way

she was designed to. It is beautiful.

I just wish it wasn’t 2 am.