Tonight’s writing challenge is…
Actually, there isn’t a challenge for tonight’s story. As much fun as my extreme writing challenges are, sometimes a girl just wants to write with no constraints.
I’ve been asked before why I torture myself with my restricting challenges. I always give those people the spiel about how they teach me about the flexibility of the English language and help me to convey single ideas in an endless number of ways. But the truth is, most of the writing I do isn’t constrained like it is in my stories here. I want to share a story I would write without any limitations. So, enjoy. Next post will be business as usual. 😉
There is no better napping place than Her stomach. Especially on the days she wears those wool sweaters. Nothing beats the moment she grabs a book and sits on the seat built into the window. The sun hits her just perfectly and I’ll lie on her stomach from the first page to the last.
It’s always been this way. The day she brought me home, she set me on her abdomen and introduced me to a warmth I’d never known. It was a drug I never gave up. Even when I grew and I could only lie on her stomach with my paws on her chest, reaching for her face.
Things changed, though. At first I couldn’t complain that her stomach was warmer than usual. Extra heat, yes please!
When my favorite napping place began to morph into a mound not fit for comfortable sleep, I grew a little worried. Was it a punishment? Did I eat one too many leaves off of the fern in the front window? Had I left paw print evidence of my midnight adventures on the kitchen counter?
Before long, her stomach was so big and round it wasn’t only uncomfortable, but it was impossible to lie upon it. When I tried, I either rolled right off or the lump in her shirt would kick me. I resorted to sleeping in the fresh laundry, no matter how much she scolded me. Fair is fair.
I barely noticed when her belly returned to normal. The return of my napping refuge came at the price of a new creature invading my territory. It was my size and kept low to the ground like I do, but it smelled suspiciously like a bath and elicited screeches that could break a deaf cat’s ears. The creature was almost permanently affixed to the warm belly I once napped upon. I was left to perch myself on the back of the sofa and look down upon the squealing thief in my spot.
For several years I endured the inconveniences of the creature’s presence. It stole my mousie toys and for a brief period even helped itself to my food. Only after it was locked in its bedroom was I free to curl up in my usual spot on her stomach, and only if I could catch her on the sofa before she found something to scrub or sweep or dust.
I accepted this new lifestyle eventually—against my will, of course. The creature began to grow, and the larger it became, the more belly time I seemed to procure.
On a winter night, she was cooking in the kitchen and the creature sat calmly in front of the television. Approaching with caution, I surveyed the creature as I cursed the cold air that had seeped in from the outside. The creature’s stomach looked almost big enough to lie upon. It was a risk, but it was one worth taking.
There is no better napping place than Her stomach. But in a pinch, the creature is just as happy to have me on his.
3 thoughts on “Break Time–or, a Story Called “Cat Nap””
I’m not much of a cat person, but (and I think someone might agree with me on this) – AWWWWWWW.
Now make it so.
Very creative. Love love love.