{ play little kitty }

"Aw, come on Jon, play a while!" She knelt on the bed, sitting on her feet and resting on her outstretched arms, fingers spread wide on the white linen.

Jon, for his part, paused in tying his tie, glancing away from the mirror only long enough to take in the full scene. His wife's youthful tone belied her age and though she was not old, such antics seemed inappropriate to him. His gaze returned to the mirror as his hands resumed work on his tie.

"Katrina, honey, you know I have to go to work!"

She huffed as he finished his tie, and he glanced again as he went to the wardrobe.

She sat now with her hands resting in her lap, wearing just the white vest and panties that she slept in. Her long, dark, curly hair played across her shoulders and her eyes were alive with mischief.

Jon opened the wardrobe to look for shoes and Katrina huffed again. "Aw, Jon, you're no fun!" She folded her arms firmly across her chest. "You don't have to be in work for ages! Come play!"

Jon ignored her as he searched in the wardrobe. Undeterred, she got on all fours again. "Look at me Jon - I'm a big cat! With a 'K'!" She started prowling across the bed like a cat stalking its prey. "Get it? I'm a Kat-rina!"

Jon pulled out a pair of black shoes to the sound of the pile above collapsing. He sat on the end of the bed to put them on. Katrina prowled up to him and rubbed her head against his shoulder.

"Isn't my mane soft Jon? How can you leave me for work?"

He brushed her aside as he laced up one shoe, and she flipped onto her back, head dangling off the end of the bed.

"Look at me Jon - I'm a cute little cat. Rub my belly and here me purr�"

She started rubbing her stomach in circles and making purring noises.

Jon finished his second shoe and stood up. He sighed gently. "Katrina, love, I have a very important meeting this morning. I need to be in work early to make sure I'm ready." He walked past her to the window, opening it to look out onto the street below.

Katrina sat up on the bed again. Reaching back she grasped a pillow and flung it at Jon, catching him on the side of the head. She pulled a face and swung a hand at him like a claw.

"Come on Jon, play! Don't make kitty angry!" She effected a feeble hissing sound.

Jon's patience finally broke and he kicked the fallen pillow aside.

"Now, look, Katrina - I love you dearly but you aren't a cat, you're a human being, and as a human being you have to get up and I have to go to work!" He strode across the room to check his tie one last time in the mirror. "Now, I'd love to stay but I have to prepare for this meeting and the traffic outside is terrible!"

He lent across the bed and kissed her forehead. "I'll see you later. Take care now."

She sat and watched him go to the bedroom door. As he grasped the door handle he turned back to her.

"Miaow," she said, raising her arm in a feeble wave.

Jon smiled and blew her a kiss, then headed out the door. She waited until she heard him leave, then dropped back onto the bed.

"Am so a cat," she said to the room at large. She stared out the window intently.

A few clouds drifted by to the sounds of the traffic below. Her attention was suddenly caught by a small bird which flew up and landed on the windowsill. It chirped away merrily, oblivious to her presence.

"That would make a fine cat-breakfast," she thought to herself. She pushed herself up on one arm to watch it.

The bird stood facing into the room, its small beak opening quickly as it chirped. Slowly she raised herself up and sat on the edge of the bed.

The bird continued serenading her with its song as she shuffled forward as far as she could, her eyes firmly fixed on the bird's shining black eyes the whole time. She watched it breathing slowly as it eyed her suspiciously.

One heartbeat.

Two.

Three.

Four.

She lunged at the bird and plucked it off the windowsill before it even had time to spread its wings. The frail bundle of feathers and bone chirped helplessly in her grasp.

Katrina raised it to her face and studied it a moment. Blue feathers with a flash of white on its chest. A small yellow beak. It smelt odd in a way that only feathers can. She opened her mouth and held the bird near. She could even taste it.

Then she leant forward and bit down hard.

Splintering bone signalled the end of the bird's worried chirping. Blood oozed down her chin and ran down her arm. Great red stains blossomed on her vest as she chewed and swallowed. Soon the entire bird was gone from head to feet, save for a couple of errant feathers floating in the breeze.

She surveyed herself carefully as blood dripped from her chin. A long line of blood ran down her hand and arm to her elbow. She raised her arm and sniffed at it. Then, extending her tongue, she licked slowly at the line of blood. Each short motion ended further along her arm, until she had proceeded from elbow to fingers. Every lap cleared more of the blood away.

"Silly Jon," she thought, "not believing I'm a cat."

She licked at her hand and brushed at the blood on her chin until she was satisfied no more was coming off. Then she sat on the bed and pulled her feet up with her.

"Silly Jon," she thought again, "he never has time to play! Maybe if I look really cute this evening, he'll make time."

She lay down on the bed and scratched. "Or maybe we can just curl up together by the fire." And with that, she placed her arms around her and curled up into a ball, purring contentedly to herself as she fell fast asleep.