Hour Three

Oh how you mesmerize me those spheres of peridot flecked with black circled by brown. A calm mixed with fierceness, and the need to survive.
Such powerful grace. Sleek, muscular, and strong. A tree climber. Prowler, a thief which stole my heart.
Fur like the down of a chick, whiskers that tickle, pointed ears, a button nose of the slightest pink.
A carnivore. A grazer of grass, bug catcher, birder, mouser, regale. Paws of steel, thick pads for lurking, skulking round corners along fences.
Contented. Rhythmic sounds deep in your throat,, a soft purring giving thanks for the day.

House trained and house bound, your every need provided. No hunger nor thirst, a warm cozy bed, a lap to curl up on. Domesticated no longer wild. Tame and affectionate. You’re more canine than feline. An equal. A friend, pal, a comrade and confidante.

What lies behind those eyes of the cat? What lurks deep within? Is the wildness born of your ancestors still inside, or just a hint remains? What secrets do you hold? What stories could you tell? Do you dream? Love? Hate? Are you happy? Content? Oh, what could you show what could you say? Within the eyes of the cat, a wonderment lives of which we’ll never know.