The Game Is A Foot

All is silence in the velveteen darkness of night.

Ivan is submerged in the innocent slumber of the witless. Tiger Lily is whined out for the evening and has found a place to dream her whiny dreams. Jaq sits on the back of the couch keeping silent vigil like a sphinx thingy erected to protect all travelers of yon hallway.

Making not a sound, I stalk the inky blackness. Keeping low, tail straight as a board, ears flattened but ever listening, I am on the hunt.

I have yet to decide upon my prey, but mark my word thingies, tonight, something will be smote.

Dust bunnies are not on the menu tonight. The recent "Spring cleaning" by the two leggers has thinned the herd almost to the point of extinction. Yesterday was laundry day, so sock balls rest soundly in their drawers. Most of the knock knacks have been locked away for their own protection. The most recent bathroom spider still respects my prowess as evidenced by the soft chattering sound of eight knees knocking in fear.

Entering the two leggers bedroom, I spring onto their bed, careful to cause no vibration that may serve to awaken them. I consider sitting next to the male's head, my nose two inches from his, staring at him until he wakes and screams in abject terror, however, I did that last week and do not wish to become too predictable. The female sleeps with a faint smile on her face that seems to immunize her from mayhem.

While I ponder my next move, the male shifts in his sleep exposing a sockless foot. It suddenly occurs to me that toe thingies are considered a delicacy in some parts of the world and that it is perhaps time to stretch my palate. Having identified my victim, I begin my pre-pounce preparation, This is accomplished by first approaching my prey with my body turned sideways on stiffened legs with back arched, in full poofy posture. Never taking my eyes off the target, I crouch low to the blankets, ears flattened, whiskers and tail a-twitchin'. Now begins the final step before pouncing: The "bloodbath butt wiggle". Once this final stage has been initiated, all safeties are off and aborting is no longer an option. The "bloodbath butt wiggle" signifies the point of no return,

It is me or the toe thingy.

I am pleased to inform you that once again, I have emerged victorious. I admit, after rising from the bed like a screaming linen draped banshee, the two legger showed remarkable marksmanship with the water squirty thingy

I remain moistened, but undefeated.