October 15, 2013
Grill is much more like a canine than a feline. This morning I caught him scrambling around the carpet behind the large butcher bone, meant for the dog. He keeps me in the present moment, kneading my stomach (though a tough feat on a washboard) and licking or biting my fingers in protest when I fail to pat his thick head. He wants to be wherever I am, running ahead and attempting to slide tackle me when I don't pick up my feet in time. He believes it is his mealtime whenever I clank around in the cabinets for a dish or scrape a spoon against the sides of a bowl. As a two year old boy, wearing a little yellow baseball cap, appeared at the door with his mother, who was conducting a survey regarding the school-aged children in the household, he ran after Grill with a vengeance, attempting to catch his tail. Grill is too fast for most kiddos so I knabbed him for the toddler to maul. No one was hurt in the making of this story so you can be confident both child and cat are content in their own homes, sans wounds.
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