A Tire Swing Story is a bite-sized "imagining" inspired by an object I discover while wandering. It could be a curbside trash gem or a message sprayed on a wall. A lost mitten, or an antique store find. Anything goes. I photograph the object and post them together, the story and its inspiration. There will be a new story every Monday and Wednesday. On Fridays, I'll discuss writing, life, love, and coffee. (In no particular order and maybe all at once.)

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The fish has been missing for three days. They discovered the empty bowl and came for me. I was lying on the porch with a nice bit of warm sun on my back. 

"Mitzi, what have you done?" the woman shouted, slamming her hand down on the wood. The sound made my whiskers quiver unpleasantly. I gave her a look that said I didn't want to be disturbed, but the man scooped me up and carried me inside. 

He plopped me down in front of the empty bowl. "Just look at this," he said, "where's our fish?" 

I licked my fur where he'd rumpled it and then decided my tail could use a little grooming. I wasn't interested in the man's line of questioning. 

So it's been solitary confinement for me. They locked me in their bathroom, which I consider the ultimate insult. I'd never trap them in my litter box if they'd done something bad. 

And I didn't do it. It's not my fault that brainless little guppy's gone missing. 

It's terribly dull in here. I watched the tap drip for awhile but that got tiring. I stretched out on the floor to feel the cool tile on my belly, but then got a chill. I miss the sunspot. I miss the insects that float down from the plants on the window ledge.

I've been wrongly accused. The injustice of it causes me to chew on some toilet paper rolls and spread little bits on the floor. I howl at the door a little to tell them that I'm getting hungry and they'd better let me out soon. 

I didn't do it.  

Okay, maybe I did.

1 comment:

  1. Teehee...gotta love that cat's sense of humor.