Grimbaud, for as long as I've been with her at least, has always had a very active imagination. On any given day she can be found pretending to be something and, now that her needs for food, shelter, and attention have been filled on a daily basis, it seems as though her imagination has only grown. In the last twenty-four hours, my girl has been (among other things): a puppy, a frog, a butterfly, a mermaid, and a bath nymph (thank you, Mallos, for that one...). The choice of the moment, however, is a kitty; she's even drawn little whiskers on with charcoal from the fireplace.
"Mrrow?" Grim says, as I try (for the thousandth time) to get her to eat the apple in her hand. I glower at her.
"Grim, I mean it, you have to eat fruit or you'll-"
"Gisli!" Grim interrupts loudly, her little smudgy face alive with laughter and fun. "You have to talk like a kitty!"
"I am a kit- I'm a cat, okay?" I growl back. Even at my grouchiest, even at my firmest, Grimbaud somehow manages to think I'm the funniest thing on the planet; as if to prove my point, my girl collapses into a fit of giggles. I roll my eyes exaggeratedly and quickly scan our surroundings. If I'm going to do this, I better be sure there're no witnesses. "Meow, meow, meow." I say in a firm monotone. I pair it with a dark expression, but can't help but feel a bit stupid still. Grim falls into a chair, holding her stomach as a fresh wave of mirth wracks her frame.
"You said you have to go potty!" Grimbaud replies. "You're not very good at being a kitty!"
I sputter in outrage. "I did no- I am... I... GAH!"
Taking advantage of my temporary speechlessness, my charge gallops away in the opposite direction. Sighing heavily, and feeling the beginnings of a headache at my temples, I hurry after her. Thankfully, with her damaged leg as it is, she can't get very far before I manage to catch up to her; unfortunately, I'm just a hair too late to catch her before she collides with someone's knees. Before I can stop her, she wraps her arms about their legs to steady herself (smudging their dress with charcoal in the process) and beams up at the woman she's nearly bowled over.
"Meow?" she says cheerfully. I wince, hoping the lady before us won't have her tossed in the dungeons or something equally as terrible. |