Admirable advice from Madame Pendulica’s mystic moggy!
Whilst reclining on the motheaten velvet of a window seat in the sun, one idly tuned into the conversation between the wispy female human one owns and a thin male dressed as if it were some sort of a bloodsucker or nightcrawler.
“Of course, the ancient Egyptians worshipped cats,” he said, as his narrow hands fiddled with the fringes on the table cover.
One pricked up one’s ears, and her muddledness nodded.
“They did indeed, and felines are so in tune with the moon and the stars.”
Which is, of course, arrant nonsense.
“Is he a Maine Coon?”
Wispy laughed, a sound she sees as tinkling bells, but one that grates on feline ears. “She is, indeed.”
He seemed to lose interest then, suddenly leaning forward and staring into the myopic pallor of her eyes.
“Why does nobody understand my poetry?” His previously carefully modulated voice degenerated into a childish whine and he flapped his hands like the wings of a demented butterfly.
The wisps of handprinted cheesecloth that serve one’s particular human as garments waved and undulated as his breath disturbed the air around her skinny frame. One wondered, briefly, if the young fool might attack her, but for all her fey ways she is adept at handling bruised egos and she there-there’d and patted him back to some semblance of adult behaviour.
While she stroked his over-inflated ego I regarded him in some hauteur. It seemed to me as if they were both missing the point of this interview— the fitting of a sadly deluded human for a better and more useful life. As I turned widdershins thrice and settled back to sleep it came to me that the phrase he would find most useful in his lifelong career would be ‘do you want fries with that?’
Ailuros the Mystic’s Mog predicts she will be offering more advice next week!