I will never understand the Big Ones.
I’ve been watching them now, off and on, for many days–nearly two Openings of Meerclar’s Eye. Why I have been doing that…well, that is a tale for another singing. Suffice it to say that so far, my watchings have not brought me any insights.
At the time I began my study, the Folk were in an uproar. The M’an-folk had dug up a stone within their dwelling-areas, a stone that reeked of os, of wrong. Any cat could sense it. And when an os-beast was birthed from it–well, Folk began leaving the area in droves. My own mother, Dewbow, came to tell me of it, and I made a special trip to scent it for myself, so I would know it if it came. I thought, though, that I would be safe in my isolated home within the large wall by the sea. But even I had to flee, when mingled M’an- and os-smell invaded. I’ve had to try to find a new nest in areas that are suddenly much more crowded.
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My point with all this is that we Folk have the good sense to flee this os. But M’an…well, at one point, I saw several of them gathered in the open space with the splashing water. I could smell that some of them were injured, and those injuries, even from my hiding space, carried the taint of the os-beast. These M’an-folk seemed to be actually seeking it–such madness!
Though, I must admit, none of us Folk have scented anything fresh from the os-beast for a while. Perhaps it has finally left…
Looking for the os-beast isn’t the only strange thing these M’an-folk have done in my viewing. Another day, in that same open space, a few of them were picking up snow and throwing it at each other. They were caterwauling at each other, yet it didn’t seem to be a fight. I suppose it could have been play, but why they would want to chill each other with snow is more than I can understand.
And that isn’t all. Right now, in that self-same open space, are a number of piles of oddly-shaped snow. I’ve even seen the M’an-folk working on them, deliberately shaping them. What possible purpose can this have?
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Also, in one of the open green spaces, there is a tree on which the M’an-folk have hung several shiny objects. I’ve done my best to investigate them, even scrambling through the tree’s branches several times, but again, I see no purpose for them.
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Well, I won’t give up yet. We cats learn patience early, and use it all our lives.
* awakens momentarily from her troubled sleep on a couch in the CocoaJava to see the black and white cat lapping at the milk left by the back door. *
“Hmm. Do keep an eye out for trouble. Some are not charitable towards felines. Or anyone, for that matter.”
* shifts her position, folds up her book, and nods off once again.*
the feline mammals seem fairly delicious with some provalone and basil
~~ hisses ~~
I’d like to see you try!
I recognize you, the cat who was asleep in the steam tunnel earlier. I guess it was warm in there, or at least warmer than out in the snow.
I need to find some cat treats.
Cats have vast stores of patience. They’re also more easily distra…
Tinsel!
I have no idea what you’re talk–
~~ Bats at an ornament on the tree. It makes a soft chiming sound. ~~
~~ bat ~~
~~ bat ~~
~~ batbatbatbatbatbat… ~~