This morning I notice that the rubber-backed throw rug that rests just inside the front door is squooshed up against the wall in strange waves. The Cat lounges near the coat closet, a strangely calm and complacent look on her face. I head for to my desk and get to work on the morning's posts and email.
Rug-muffled skit-skit-skit K-THUD drifts in from the other room. Skit-skit-sk.sk.sk K-THWUMP. I catch the reflection of a bright red flash out of the corner of my eye. Sk.sk.sk-THUD. The Cat heaves into view, across the room to the closet, up several feet in the air, and thwaps the coat closet door as another red flash vanishes from sight. I get up to watch the show.
The Royal Light Show Master has the new laser pointer and is swinging its light across the carpet and up the face of the closet. On the third swing, The Cat launches herself from the front door to the coat closet, into the air, and lands on the closet door, smacking the beam. SCOOOORRRE!!
The rug ripples as The Cat builds up momentum for her next launch, like Wile E Coyote treading air during a run off a cliff.
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