If I were a cat in a windowsill, I would want a wide ledge, nice and high, with nearby tree branches. I would sleep in the sun during the daylight, and in the early mornings and afternoons I would sit upright like a statue, patiently waiting for tiny birds to come hopping into sight. A hummingbird feeder provides regular visitors, like clockwork they arrive in the mornings and evenings to feed. A hummingbird in the rain, with a flash of ruby throat, is a sight to see-- hovering in midair with the raindrops flicking off of the blurred green wings.

If I were a cat in a windowsill, I would chatter. In the autumn, when the leaves swirl on the pavement, I would lie in wait just out of sight, and when the noise of the wind signaled their arrival I would pounce out, paws eager on the glass, and dream of rending and tearing their papery limbs. If you tracked one or two in onto the doormat, you would hear crunching not long after and wonder what I was up to this time.

If I were a cat on a windowsill, I would wait for you to get home with eager abandon, and then act careless as though it didn't really matter when you finally arrived. I would yawn sleepily from my perch. I might leap down to strut leisurely across the room, rubbing against your leg as if by accident... but if you were to put a hand down I would be there, ready for the attention.

Windowsills are lovely things.

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Edited by AllyCat at 10/11/2007 3:35 PM

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Edited by AllyCat at 10/11/2007 3:36 PM

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Edited by AllyCat at 10/12/2007 6:50 AM