Whiskers and Catnaps

My cat looks eagerly outside, her tiny nose pressed against the screen, watching as the early birds set off to get their worms. When she's seen enough, she saunters under the table toward me, weaving through the legs of the dining room chairs. Her fur is cold from the chilly morning air and it isn't long before she's curled up on her favorite chair, indulging in her first catnap of the day. Later, when the sunshine pours in, she'll warm her kitty bones and roll around on her back like the ham she is.

She talks to hummingbirds like they share their own special language that I can't understand. Then again, my cat talks to anything and everything. The fly she has cornered in the windowpane... Me when she thinks dinnertime is nearing and I'm not moving fast enough... I've even heard her talk to our hamster while he was running on his wheel. In my cat's defense, she was probably asking him what the big hurry is to get nowhere.

Now that Miss Talkative is quiet and curled up beside me in her position as co-writer, it's time for me to delve into the world of Red Valley, where my characters are waiting to see what kind of trouble I write them into today...