The mention of catnip got Cinnamon, my four footed daughter interested. She tried her paw once at writing a short story (well, if Mom does it, it can't be too hard, can it?), but she had to rely on her human mom with her human hands to do the typing. She ended up losing interest. :)
The mention of catnip caught her attention. Cinnamon has decided to tell a story of her own using this prompt, using me to do the typing, creating, and generally thinking. :)
Yes, this story is fiction, but it involves real people, including myself. It's the sort of thing I could see happening in our house...:)
There was a tiny thorn hidden within the catnip. Not that it could hide from my fastidious paws. I batted it out of the gray, flaked leaves and swatted my stupid brother aside. Sage was about to stick his nose into it, possibly stabbing his muzzle.
Not that he appreciated my rescue, the idiot. He leaned over and bit my neck.
I growled in response. Sage needed to learn who’s queen in this townhouse.
“What now?” Mom asked with her mouth full of pie. She put down her plate.
I let out a vexed little mew. Such boring fare my two-legged mother eats. No dead bird, no dead fish, nothing remotely interesting.
“Sage, are you picking on your sister again?” My mother eyed my stupid brother, who moved away from me.
Sage may be an idiot, but he’s a natural at looking innocent when he’s up too no good. He turned his green eyes on our mother, the very picture of pitiful martyrdom.
I mewed at Mom, doing my best to distract her from Brother by rubbing myself against her legs. It was, after all, her responsibility to handle things.
“Why are you pushing your brother away from the catnip?” Mom turned away from her pie to examine the pile of dried herbs. “Don, there’s a thorn in here!”
She picked up the offending object, brushing the catnip off the carpet for good measure. Really, she needn’t have bothered.
“How did this get here?” Mom demanded, making certain she cleaned every speak off the floor.
“Maybe one of us tracked it in, after it got stuck to the soles of our shoes,” Dad suggested. He kept a firm grip on his plate of pie. “Hon, Sage is after your dinner.”
Sure enough, my stupid brother was sniffing at Mom’s pie.
“Sage!” Mom rose to her feet, stratling Sage.
He bounded away from the plate, up the stairs.
Mom chased after him, still scolding him.
Curious, I stuck my nose in the pie, wondering what about it got my brother so excited.
“Don’t even think about it, Cinnamon.” Dad leaned forward from his chair to glare at me. “I’m watching you.”
I never get to have any fun.
Awww... That is no fun, for sure. ~grin~ At our house, a much younger Jezebel the cat once jumped on the kitchen counter and ate the entire center out of a sweet potato pie!
ReplyDeleteAh, Jezebel was much quicker than Sage was in this! :) He's giving me a look as if to say, "If this wasn't fiction by my lump of a sister, I would have been fast enough!" :)
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