100 Words and a Kitten in a Pot
It is evening. The heat of the day has cooled and the cats are restless. Neither of them likes the heat much and I wonder if I should have them shaved in the summer like I’ve seen some folks do. The little guy pants. He actually pants if it’s too hot and he has exerted himself in a fit of play. Mostly they lay on the cool floor, though the kitten seems to favor a ceramic cooking pot that sits on the bottom shelf of the kitchen island. He starts out on the floor and after a few minutes pulls himself up, walking with his head slung low to prowl for another cool spot and, finding one, drops suddenly and heavily on his side. Eventually he makes his way to the kitchen and climbs into the ceramic pot, curling himself perfectly tail to nose.
Us humans who are too big for ceramic cooking pots went to the local swimming park and drank copious amounts of iced tea and lemonade instead.
And really, I’m counting my blessings (swimming, kittens, family, house, copious amounts of lemonade) because I’m well aware that these things can be snatched away in a second. Thinking of you Colorado (may you get rain) and the East Coast out to the West (may you get power and cool breezes).
This week’s word is from Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe, which I just started reading after somehow managing to miss it in high school and college.