Deep breath everyone as we get ready to start Thursday. I am expecting a busy one and really hoping everything goes smoothly. I would love an easy coast towards the weekend. So here’s hoping. Let’s kick it off with the writing prompt. Timers set and off we go!
I like this. Not sure where it is going but I like this.
Thursday, March 7th: The cat threaded its way along the top of the fence.
The cat threaded its way along the to of the fence. Once there were those who would have taken exception to its presence. The man who lived in the white house to the right was allergic to cats and even the sight of it along the fence would have caused a window to fly open and threats to be yelled. The green house to the left once had a dog who would have thought the cat an intruder needing to be chased from his domain. As the dog also thought the same of floating dandelion fluff, the cat never took exception.
Now, there was nothing to disturb the night. The man with the allergies was gone, the white house no longer so white, the paint peeling, scuffed and spattered. The dog left with his owners, his bark no longer threatening invaders here. The green house lost paint as well and now one of the gutters was hanging low. Blown off by some wind or rusted through and dropped, the cat didn’t know. He sized up the distance, found it acceptable and leapt onto the dangling end. The gutter shivered and shimmied but the cat moved quickly, using it as a ramp to the roof. He found a flat section outside of one of the window dormers and sat in the shadows.
The scent of burnt wood was stronger here but after a few twitches, he decided it was acceptable. A light rain started, and the cat shifted, using the window eave to cover him, protecting him from the wet. He knew no one would come to the window and evict him from the spot. There was no one left to mind him.
The cat’s belly was full and he was sleepy. There was much more life a few streets over and it was there that the pickings were good. He dined on a left-over fish head scavenged from a bin that night, a delectable treat. However once fed, he realized there were too many others. Other cats, people, animals. Any space he claimed was contested. So, he retreated, taking his full belly into the quiet.
The rain fell in a steady patter, but he was warm and dry. Sleep came quickly.
The rain was still falling when he awoke, but the night had deepened. It would still be a long time before dawn, and he knew even the noisier streets would be quiet now. And yet, there was something stirring here.
He cracked an eye open and gazed out over the domain the dog once so fiercely protected. There was a light moving. The cat, curious, lifted its head slightly and looked down. A man was in the yard below. He carried a flashlight and a shovel. He searched about and just as the cat was growing bored and thinking of going back to sleep, the man settled on a spot and began to dig. The shovel slid into the soaked earth in the center of the yard.
Ten til Midnight 