Lately, I’ve taken to writing little stories or the occasional poem for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, but this time the prompt is to use a book title – either one that you’re reading or one nearby – and write the post based on the book title and what it brings to mind.
Now, I have a couple of books I’m currently reading, but their titles don’t work too well with this prompt, but one I have nearby to read next seemed to be promising, so I’m gonna see what I can do with it. That book is by the humorist, The Oatmeal, and is called How to Tell if Your Cat is Plotting to Kill You.
Now, as a cat lover and former cat owner (my Shadow has been gone almost a year), I’ve heard people talk about cats being evil and plotting to kill you, and I don’t really believe it to be true (as some people tend to do) and instead consider myself part of the larger cat-loving community who joke about it instead.
That being said, my mind has also tried to go through some memories to see if there might have been any indications of Shadow’s plotting or failed attempts to kill me. Some possibilities include:
*The many times he would climb up in my lap, reach up, put his paws on my shoulders, and lick my earlobes while purring and kneading my shoulders. I thought it was just an endearing habit, an indication of his contentment and happiness with me, and seeing me as his “mommy”. But maybe the kneading (with claws extended) and licking were something more, like he was trying to “soften” me up and get a taste?
*Jumping up on my dresser and shelves in the middle of the night, knocking stuff over. I thought it was just to get my attention, to get me up so I’d put him outside. Maybe he was trying put stuff on the floor for me to trip over in the dark, instead?
*Getting chummy with his poodle fur-sister, Cinnamon (see my main blog photo, above). On the surface, it appeared they had learned to get along like family. But maybe Shadow was actually recruiting her to his cause, because they both would be constantly underfoot (and especially Cinnamon), making it hard to walk without tripping over them, and in the kitchen in particular.
*Then there’s this photo, where he seems to be saying, “Fire up this grill, or else.”
*And too, he was a black cat, a “ninja” cat, as many in the cat community refer to them, and he was constantly practicing his hiding skills outside:
Hmm.. I don’t know. Maybe there is some truth to it, after all?
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “book title”:
Jeanne Owens, author 