Balls of fluff and their hidey holes

Here is a little thing I wrote this morning after seeing a painting (cozy Corner by Carl Larsson) on another blog, one of my favourites in fact.


Balls of fluff and their hidey holes

It was just a ball of fluff on the horizon but it looked like fun somehow
There was a scent in the air and it was coming from that direction
My senses went wild, my nose went up and my tail followed
Then it moved
Self-preservation ruled over instinct in that moment,
I wanted to eat without fuss tonight
She was nowhere in sight though
Nobody was telling me no
Instinct kicked in and my legs were moving
Taking me faster than the speed of light toward the ball of fluff
In my rush I forgot to keep quiet and the creature heard me coming
It was quick
The ball jumped more than ran and it swerved from side to side
As if that would worry me
The chase was on and I was winning
It disappeared over the top of the hill, and then I was on the ridge.
To my left, weaving between rocks I caught the light brown movement
Within striking distance
Long strides carried me over the surface and I was on his tail
What a funny tail, more like a little stick on cotton ball really
Not whippy and sleek like mine
He swerved to the right and then to left as my paws reached out for him
Then he was gone
As quick as he had appeared he had vanished again
The ground was thick with odours, many like him but not quite the same.
Then I found the one I was searching for and followed it
It led to a hole, big enough for my paw but not much more.
For hours I searched the hills
There were many holes like the one that had swallowed my prey but nothing of the strange creature
Tomorrow just after dawn I will be back in the hope of another encounter
Maybe this time the hole will be too far away for him
For now though, I must return home
She will be waiting
Wanting to pat me
Calling my name
Then just before dark she will feed me from a tin
Life is simpler that way
But first I will sleep with my head and body on the stripped rug
While the cool floor revives my legs and feet
Her discarded shoes will be close enough for me to feel the safety of her scent
She will join me and maybe she will read
We have been here a while and we know our place
And mine is not on the tempting blue and white stripped rug that covers the couch
This is home
I would not have it any other way


© Bernard J Rossi