The other night I was on the way to the local Co-op store in the village when I encountered a young cat who came out of the bushes in the local church graveyard. Some prose for the cat.
Churchyard cat.
"Hi" said the cat, "It's about to rain and I expect you will never see me again. Take a moment to see in the soft evening light what muscles I have and how I can purr and how my head is pushing against your folded gentle fist. I will mark you with my scent and my intent is to go and watch you shop from a distance and worry you that I may, just may, step into the road. You worry too much human. When you return from your fevered shop I will be here reaching out a paw and needle claws to a little girl in white karate gi or judo gi and then, as you have passed by I will stroll amongst the gravestones and saunter back to my cosy house and snooze. You will not rest and you will concern yourself all evening about my safety while I chomp on crunchy cat food having forgotten all about you. I do remember however, the smell of a soft gentle fist that looked to me like the head of a friendly cat. Sleep well human." zzzzzzzzzzzzzz Love: The young cat.
