With a strange tenderness the cat presents a vole to me. The vole lies still, completely inert. The cat starts rumbling and mewing, rolling, bathing in his joy. The vole suddenly springs up, heading for a dark space by the radiator. The cat loves this game, the chasing, the catching, the teasing; but I do not.
I separate the vole and cat.
The vole buzzes around at high speed, his tiny feet a blur. Eventually I trap him in a container, freeing him outside. He pauses, whiskers spinning, not yet ready for his freedom, not understanding how it has ended this way.
3 comments:
There is something epic in your telling of this tale.
Thank you, I think it was traumatic for everyone involved (excepting the cat)!
Poor little vole.
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