There's something in a Sunday, that makes the body feel alone.
Listening to the echoing calls of the tweets hidden in the trees in my parents backyard, looking at the forsythia glowing like some wild tropical fish (I'm waiting for it to start waving about and shout nursery rhymes......"Excuse me, EXCUSE ME: Are you the singing bush?")
There is something in a Sunday that makes you feel alone, in a sense that if you were left with the birds and the morning light and the awakening chatter, that you'd be lovely and fine.
I woke up early, waiting for our new visiting deer to take his daily constitution.
I don't think he'll be here today, but you all will be happy to know that the two cats that planned an executed a sneak attack on said deer, are out and about chewing on grass and t!!! Jumping wildly in the air--I had no idea that Stella was attached to an invisible bungee cord. That was funny, she must have seen a bug .
So this was the scene a few days prior: Rhino (large orange tub of a cat-- rolls over upon seeing human bodies to unabashedly solicit belly rubs) and Stella (accidentally swallowed a tiny violin which she uses to communicate) teamed up while our Deerie was nibbling the forsythia branches.
Like two lionesses on the prowl (yes Rhino, that includes you, you beast), they crouched, and encroached--side by side, hiding themselves in what promises to be a lawn in the coming months. They get closer. They split, Rhino taking the flank side of Deerie, Stella the face.
They crouch and wriggle about, prepping to pounce. And BOOM. Deerie puts his foot down. Literally and right in front of Stella's face.
They fall in line, and settled in, like two little cotton balls into a teacup.
My dad sums it up like this:
"Our cats hunt Buck."
I sum it up as follows:
"Tricia's cats are scared of Does."
Here's to hoping the deer grows some antlers in the next few weeks.
Or our pride will have to keep to chasing bugs.