The living room was a landscape of muted luxury, a quiet terrain of textured Persian rugs and inviting mustard leather sofas. It was the kind of room designed for peaceful evenings and hushed conversations.
In the center of this hushed world sat Barnaby.
Barnaby was a midnight black feline of considerable dignity. Tonight, that dignity was augmented by attire. He wore a handcrafted white crocheted collar, neatly fastened with a festive red and white gingham bow. It was an accessory that suggested he was not merely a pet, but a participating member of the household’s evening events a gentleman ready for receiving company.
However, in this specific moment, Barnaby’s sophisticated facade was cracking under the pressure of primal instinct.
His posture was impeccable straight back, neatly tucked paws but his focus was singular and intense. His emerald eyes were locked not on a guest, but continually upward, fixed on the small, round marble side table towering just above him.
There, sitting innocuously on the cool stone surface, was something forbidden. Perhaps it was a forgotten cracker from a cheese board, a glittering wrapper that caught the light, or, most tantalizingly, the silver bowl that had recently held shrimp.
It was the exquisite tension of the pre pounce, a silent battle between his civilized appearance the jaunty bow, the obedient sit and the overwhelming, predatory urge to launch himself upward onto the forbidden furniture. He was a portrait of focused desire, a properly dressed cat contemplating a very naughty deed.
Shannon Willis can usually be found in the company of furry friends. A passionate animal enthusiast, her work is often inspired by her deep love for cats, dogs, and the animal kingdom as a whole.
