Life was good to Pistachio. Soft, expensive, cashmere sweaters to snuggle into.
Food always delivered on time. And the gentle hands of his mistress Charity, stroking his silky fur.
Oh yes, life WAS good.
She never asked for much, so he never gave it to her. Such was their lives together in this rather spacious apartment block. He was used to her comings and goings, the strange smells that emanated from the legs of many visitors.
Oh yes. What more could he ever ask for?
But that quiet life was just about to come to a jarring end.
It had been one of those lazy summer days. The sun had been streaming through the window, casting a warm beam of light in Pistachio's favourite spot. His mistress's bed. Stretching languidly, his claws snagged on the soft silk covers, pulling them towards him. But he didn't care. He had the whole apartment to himself. His mistress was off somewhere.
Whereabouts, he cared not. As long as his food dish was full and his litter tray cleaned, who cared where his mistress went? She always lavished attention on him, and he loved her for it.
Snoring softly, he was suddenly awakened by a cacophony of noises.
The screech of heavy brakes, clattering and banging, and the shriek of female voices.
His lazy afternoon had just been interrupted. It was going to be ages now, before he'd get back to sleep. Yawning widely, and stretching, arching his sleek back, he hopped lightly from the bed to investigate.
Sliding out of the cat flap, he trotted towards the main entrance, just in time to see two pairs of legs wandering into the lobby. Killer stiletto heels rapped on the wooden floor in a staccato beat, the other pair of shoes shuffled softly, as they made their way towards the elevator.
Pistachio looked up, just in time to make out their faces before the doors swished shut.
The one wearing the killer heels, had a rich mahogany skin, just like his own mistress, but instead of the cascade of curls, her hair was swept neatly at the back, in a snood. Her mouth was turned down at the edges in silent disapproval.
The other pair of shoes belonged to a much sweeter looking person. Her black hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and she always had a ready smile.
Their eyes met fleetingly through the tiny crack in the elevator doors and she said the one word that Pistachio understood.
"Kitty!"
He tilted his head slightly, listening as the pistons and hydraulics set to work, moving them upwards to the floor above. His head swivelled around and looked up at the staircase.
Perhaps he could climb up those and say hello properly.
But instead, he yawned widely.
It was far too warm to be bothered with any physical exertions. And besides, there was a lovely warm spot with his name on it.
1 comment:
Very cool how its done from the kitties point of view, I loved it. Hmmm, so why is his lavish quiet life about to come to an end?
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