Wednesday 18 April 2018

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 51

This week's prompt is a photo taken by Gen Harris. These are her dog and cat.

I thought it was time for something soft and fluffy! 

I had planned on something bigger and more dramatic, but ended up with this simple piece, an imagined conversation about what a cat and dog might discuss on such a day. Having had a headache for over a week now, it has been hard to get my mind to produce much. I hope you all find it more inspiring.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

Rainy Day

“Hey George, I’ve found a long one. You got one yet?”
“Yeah, over here. Trickling nicely.”
Cassie looked his way, where he was watching the line of rain water running down the French windows too. “Oh yeah.”
“Yours still going?”
“No, mines stopped. Here, how long do you think this is going to go on for?”
“What your trickle?”
“No the rain.”
“Dunno. But they’ll probably take me out in it in a bit.”
Cassie shuddered. “Glad I don’t have anyone forcing me out in it.”
“It’ll be great, still plenty to sniff.”
“Doesn’t it all wash away?”
“Sometimes, but just means I can put fresh down and take ownership.”
“I don’t get you dogs. Why bother? Such a waste.”
“You do it.”
“Do not! I’m a girl cat; we don’t make that kind of stink.”
“But you like sniffing it though.”
“Do not!”
“Do too. I’ve seen you out there when that big red tom from number 16 comes round.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Keep an eye on your trickle!”
“Never left it. Although it’s winding down now.”
“Found another yet?”
“I’m sure there’ll be one along shortly. What about you?”
“There’s something moving out there.”
“There!” Cassie pushes her nose up against the glass. “See it? I’ll catch it!”
“You can’t, it’s on the other side of the glass.”
“No it’s not.”
“Yes it is.”
Cassie tries to nibble at it. “Oh, maybe your right.”
“Why don’t you come with us when we go for a walk?”
“No way! I’ll get all wet.”
“But that’s the best part. Loads of puddles. If I’m lucky, I’ll get a chance to roll in one.”
“Why on earth would you want to do that?”
“Oh it’s great, all over your fur, nice and gritty. Then you get to shake it out.”
“Bleugh, fancy licking all that off.” Cassie licked a paw.
“I don’t have to lick it off; they’ll wash me when I get back.”
“Ugh, how awful. I couldn’t abide anyone doing that to me. It’s not natural.”
“You’ve been washed, I saw you. That time you fell into that boggy patch at the end of the garden.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. First in that stinking water, and then in that perfumed muck they said would get me nice and clean. My tongue wasn’t right for weeks coated in that soapy stuff. Yuck.”
“How’d you fall in the bog in the first place? I thought you cats had perfect balance?”
“No, nine lives is what we’ve got, and I lost one of them that day I can tell you. I was chasing a blue thing. It landed on the ground. Very pretty it was, would have been very tasty, but when I put my paw on it, it wasn’t ground it was that horrible wet sludgy stuff. That’s how I lost my balance, and almost my life!”
“You’re so dramatic. It’s not that deep.”
“How would you know?”
“Oh I’ve been in there loads of times. I love it.”
“Ugh, you’re revolting. Ooo, look at that another long trickle coming down.”
They both watched the one near Cassie as it made its way down in a stilted fashion. Their peace was broken by a call from the kitchen: “George! Here boy!”
“That’s me. I’ll be off then.”
“See you in a bit.”
“You going to stay and watch more?”
“Nah, I’m going to go curl up on the little boy’s bed.”
“Okay. Later.”