“We are never more fully alive, more completely ourselves, or more deeply engrossed in anything than when we are playing.”
Gibbs the cat loves his catnip banana.
Gibbs enjoys playing “attack of the catnip banana” with the human.
The human obliges with a hint of mischief, a bit of delight, wary of the claws that don’t always land on the banana (if you know what I mean)
(I mean skin piercing and blood could be involved if not situationally aware.)
Band-aids and antibiotic cream are on standby.
The feline boy twists and turns in his catnip tree, grabbing, pawing and biting at what taunts him.
The human goads with this yellow object and the cat feels something that swats him in the rear.
Yes, that rear.
Engrossed in his prey, Gibbs twists and turns again and bats at that stinkin’ banana.
He’s gonna get that stinkin’ banana!
The game goes on between the boy and human for several playful minutes.
Once in awhile, he takes a break and shows the human his fangs.
It’s a warning that he has weapons.
He’ll either rip that banana out of the human’s hand or he’ll rip the human’s hand.
She remains situationally aware.
They play for a little while longer, a few more twists and turns and banana swats on the butt.
Then, either the human waves the white flag (she
is bored gives up) or the feline becomes bored sleepy.
In the end, they part company, both alive and breathing.
She resumes her writing, cooking, cleaning, or reading and Gibbs…
Well, he plots his next plan of attack.
For revenge, for banana capture.
He’ll close his eyes soon and dream of the possibilities.
And when he wakes, Gibbs will cry for food, use the litter box and demand the commencement of human/banana playtime once again.
Linda G. Hill is the Queen of One-Liners and rules over her kingdom of followers. Check out today’s post and commit yourself to join the Queen’s one-liner army because there’s no fighting or blood, only comradery and fun with words.