elfs | Cat Blogging: The Burning Cat

Omaha and I moved to a different apartment, a few blocks away. It was a nicer place, far quieter, and with better neighbors. Dinah adjusted quickly enough to it.

One evening, when Omaha and I were making love, Dinah leapt up onto the bed to see what the featherless apes were doing. She wandered across the vigorous Elf and onto the bedstand, swishing her tail lazily through the candle.

"The cat!" I gasped, hearing a sizzle and seeing this out of the corner of my eye. "The cat! On fire! The Cat! Is! On! Fire!" I immediately disengaged from the task at hand, grabbed the throw blanket and the protesting Dinah and balled her up in it to smother the flames.

I unwrapped her and saw that the flames had been put out. Dinah was miffed, looking up at me with the most wounded dignity a cat can manage. She sniffed at her tail momentarily, puzzled, then went on her way as if nothing untoward had happened.

Omaha and I did not manage to find the mood again that night.