Why do I love cats so much?

Why do I love cats so much?

by K. Steitz

A flash fiction piece

dedicated to Kelly Hawk

I practiced sitting in different parts of Emily's two story Italianate on East Walnut Street. Light streamed into the windows, perfect for slow, joint-popping stretches and lazy nods. I studied rejuvenating repose by twisting myself into many different shapes, pulling tight into a full moon, or stretching from tip-to-tip like a jagged line punctuated by a peaceful sigh. Honestly, they all felt magnificent.

Most rooms had a lovely amount of light to bathe beneath, but my favorite place to curl up was in Emily's breakfast nook. I do believe she found my antics rather charming. She went out of her way to brush her fingers across my shoulders every time she passed by me that morning. It was one of the days she didn't disappear, but lounged with me between chores, book in one hand, chipped cup of earl gray in the other. These are my favorite mornings.

There was a picture window in the breakfast nook that looked out upon her well-maintained garden. The cushion itself is a delight, soft blue cotton; the window provides hours of entertainment. I was particularly interested in the bird life. She had a wide and unique variety of birds that visited her intricately molded cast-iron bird feeder. I believe I even saw a smug gentleman with a yellow chin and long beak poking about. Now those are some feathers I'd really love to sink my teeth into. Perhaps in another life.






Do you want a piece of flash fiction dedicated to you? Ask me any question in the comments of my blog and I will answer in the form of flash fiction. Emphasis on the fiction. Wink wink.