It begins early in the morning. For the first time in years, Prince Consort is working and I am not, so once Prince Consort is out the door at 7 am, I sit down with my bowl of corn pops and my lap top and begin to waste copious amounts of time on the Internet. Osiris, our black and white tuxedo cat who is approximately 78 in human years, begins slowly. He starts with a glare, directed at either Lewis or Clark, but usually, it's Clark. If I'm really not paying attention to the Cat Antics going on around me and am absorbed by the latest news about the British Royal Family on Yahoo's Headlines, I may not even notice the glares. Then he begins stalking, slinking across the room towards the unsuspecting Clark, who may be having a morning bath on the sofa armrest, completely unaware of the impending doom.
"Osiris..." I'll call in a warning tone. Osiris, named after the Egyptian King of the Gods (and oh, doesn't he know it!), might actually stop at my word, but he never breaks eye contact with his target brother. "None of that, now," I say, still reading about what the new Princess Kate, Duchess of Cambridge wore the day before. Hardly deterred and only pretending to listen to me when he thinks I am watching him, Osiris resumes his mission, creeping silently as though he were about to take down a wildebeest somewhere on an African plain. As though we didn't feed him enough prescription food formulated for senior cats!
"Hey!" I say now, looking up from the picture of Kate's latest Issa designed gown. "What are you doing? Do not chase your brother! You know where you're headed, if you keep this up." Osiris has stopped in his tracks, but he still doesn't look at me. Eye on the prize, Baby. Eye on the prize. Or in this case, on the now very alert Clark who has stopped bathing and realized the danger he is in. He jumps down from the sofa armrest to be on equal footing with his attacker. It must be hard to be an explorer, named for one of the two men Thomas Jefferson sent out on an expedition to explore the newly acquired Louisiana Purchase, knowing you are unequipped to deal with The Dark Lord and his ways. Yet Clark readies himself for attack, his ears at attention, his own glowing, green eyes meeting the amber gaze of Osiris.
"Come on, Guys!" I plead, moving my lap top and getting up, resigned that I must either be ready to grab Osiris as he charges or be a human shield for Clark. Osiris strikes, but I scoop him up before he can reach Clark and carry him into the bathroom. "I told you what would happen if you did that," I scold The God of the Underworld. He growls slightly in my arms, disappointed at being intercepted in his hunt. "Don't you take that tone with me!" I say as I set him down on the bathroom sink counter. "Would you like a mousie to play with while you're in here?" I ask. He looks offended at the suggestion. Dark Lords rarely admit to wanting to play with mousies. It really diminishes their street cred. "OK, fine. Well, you sit here and think about what you've done. See you in ten," I tell him, closing the bathroom door and setting a kitchen timer that is kept nearby for just such occasions.
The king is not amused.
I take it someone has not been a good choice-maker this morning?
ReplyDeleteYou've got that right, Logikcat!
ReplyDelete