Being a history of the strange goings ons of our kingdom.
Here written down by Clio, a Steel Striped Tabby who sleeps in the
kitchen.
The steel striped tabby cat with the green eyes
slept several hours a day. Bears in their hibernations had
nothing on her. But when she was awake the world
was sought out by her completely. Curiosity was her reason
for living. It didn't matter if the questions she asked with her eyes and nose
and paws and mouth were ever answered. Like Sherlock Holmes
the game was afoot. And noting else mattered.
She had always been a special cat to me. But after her death I discovered
she was even more special. Beyond my imaginings even.
For in her worn little bed, in the corner of the kitchen, as I collected it to
place in her grave to accompany and comfort her to the next world, I discovered a
manuscript. Written on the brittle leaves of sycamore trees that stood near the
creek behind our house. "fragile" was not enough to describe their condition.
By accident I destroyed a few pages just by moving her bed,
but later on I reconstructed them when the true importance of this history became
apparent.
NEXT: CAT NIP DOESN'T DO IT FOR ME.
-Jeff Falk
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