fooled her good!9:35 AM. The Cat sleeps soundly in her bedroom atop her favorite box of tax reports and business receipts, contorted into a furry Mobius strip around a sky blue plush teddybear that sports a tiny plaid ribbon around its neck.
I have not solved the mystery of the ribbon's survival all these years. This is The Cat's, and The Cat devours such trifles and offerings for lunch, as she is half cat, half goat, half adorable and half fearsome. This is The Cat, who expertly uncrocheted and gnarled the lion's share of a large brown fringed afghan and wrapped its loose bits neatly around most of the living room furniture and stored the fringe away for future breakfasts, never to be seen again.
This is The Cat, of course, who is fashion-forward enough to know those 4-inch heels in my closet are completely out of vogue, had counseled me not to wear them as they would aggravate my back injury, and, lucky for me, removed both buckles and straps to prove her point.
9:35 AM + 6 seconds. The Cat has teleported from back bedroom to inches away from the front door, without touching the floor or making any other noise, and is yelling at the top of her lungs to the person on the front porch to kindly and immediately remove the big brown truck that idles in the front yard. I didn't even hear it drive up, and already she's negotiating with UPS for quieter, less invasive delivery methods.
I open the front door, sign for the package, apologize to the shaken driver, turn to thank The Cat for her alert. The Cat is long gone.
I make it back to my desk, sit down to open the package, and glance over my shoulder toward the southwest corner of the house. The Cat is sleeping soundly in her bedroom atop her favorite box of tax reports and business receipts, contorted into a furry Mobius strip around a sky blue plush teddybear that sports a tiny plaid ribbon around its neck.
This is The Cat, of course.
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