The sun goes down and Missy the cat stares out of the window at the great wide world (and a car park) stretching out before her. She likes to look out, hoping for sight of some potential quarry to track and catch, maybe not tonight though.
Nobody quite understands what goes on in the minds of cats as they inwardly muse and observe human activity. She may be dreaming of a cat life well outside of these parts, a school in Oxford in rooms full of dusty books and the aroma of ancient timbers relaxing in a tight body curl by a log fire, perhaps a life at sea on a schooner pitching across the South Atlantic as rats scurry away before her and salt spray rides heavy in the cold air, or on guard in a musty old grocery store getting into pitch battles with hungry raccoons, crazy mice and black spiders as she defends her territory ... or maybe not.
All she really wants to do is to get out and dig her claws into the trunk of some innocent tree and have a good gouging session into it's brittle bark and exercise her own pulling power.
Who really knows?
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