Penny is a cat with an attitude. She is not a “pussycat.”

She is her own cat, superior, as only real aristocats can be.

“Do not fool with me I have claws. I can use them.”

 

Her ears peaked over her basket, listening to all that was going on.

I went into the bathroom to shower. She decided to follow,

scratching on the door. I let her in, she watched me.

As I showered she peeked through the glass panels and then

jumped to a higher level, for a better view, perhaps?

I left the shower, towel in hand. She jumped down onto the seat

sitting there watching, anticipating her next move, her reward.

 

I bent down to pet her. She rose on her hind legs

and grasped my head  between her front paws.

Ten claws firmly in my scalp, ow!

Then she buried her nose in my hair and licked as if cleaning me.

I stayed very still; she likes the smell of shampoo it seems.

 

After a while she let me go, I stood up, relieved to be in one piece.

Standing there naked as a babe, drying my back

she looked me up and down; intrigued perhaps?

Then swiped something that swung temptingly into her range.

She struck out in a flash of half bared claws; whacking

me painfully where it hurts, then smiled wickedly.

Leaving me catatonic.

 
 

David Garlick, Sidney, February, 2005