Image: Midsummer Night’s Melancholy by Michael Sowa
It was on the way down that Fluffball realised he had used his ninth life the week before.
There had been the incident with the Smith’s labra poodle exacerbated by the Alsatian sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong.
It was all a very nasty and distasteful affair and Fluffball had come out of it the worse for wear.
What was a minor dispute over his food bowl had escalated into a war from which he had been rescued only in the nick of time.
He’d spent the week licking his wounds and curled up on the windowsill. But today looking across at the Alsatian looking so smugly at him it had become all too much and Fluffball decided to show the mangy dog he was not above the ultimate adventure.
Thinking cats always landed on their feet he had launched himself into the void and only now remembered much to his disappointment.
‘Bugger,’ thought Fluffball as he neared the end.
Above him the Alsatian looked smugly down.
Written for: http://magpietales.blogspot.se/2015/06/mag-276.html