We’ve made friends with a few cats who like to hang around our container garden. They’ve sort of claimed our turf as theirs, which is fine because they are simply non-invasive cats who like to swat at our tomato plants and sleep in our lawn furniture. That, however, hasn’t kept me from making up stories about their kitty lives when we don’t see them sleeping or leering.
There are two:
Perdita, the little lost princess from The Winter’s Tale.
And Florizel, her flowery prince.
Perdita’s love language is meowing. Very, very loudly. Unfortunately, she has a pathetic voice that isn’t necessarily endearing; it’s a little hair-raising.
We’re fairly sure that Perdita is domesticated. I mean, how many stray cats skip up to you while meowing for love? Florizel, however, is a rough and tumble Byronic kind of guy. He doesn’t do relationships, but he hangs around just enough to where I’m convinced he’s got a thing for Perdy.
Lets just hope she doesn’t have kittens in our squash tire planter.
(The title is a nod to our current linguistic situation: i.e. We’re in a summer class that requires we translate German for three hours a day. A great way to spend your early summer mornings? Hmm.)