Finnegan was not merely a pet, he was a masterpiece of contrast. To the casual observer, he was a snowy expanse of fluff, but his tail told a different story a vibrant, fiery appendage that looked as though he had swished it through a pot of liquid amber.
His mornings began with serious business. Perched atop the narrow ridge of the white headboard, Finnegan stood as the silent sentry. With his back straight and that glorious tail raised high like a banner of war, he surveyed the room. Nothing escaped his golden gaze not the dust mote dancing in the draft, nor the socks discarded on the floor. He was the guardian of the household, the white shadow that watched from the high ground.
By midday, the role of guardian was exchanged for that of the philosopher. He would descend to the grey velvet mountains of the sofa. Here, he lay in waiting, his white fur stark against the dark fabric. He didn’t sleep, he meditated. He watched the Tall Ones bustle about with their rushing and their noise, offering them a look of calm, pitying wisdom. He was a statue of grace, untouched by the chaos of the world.
But dignity has a shelf life, and it usually expired when the sun hit the window hammock.
As the afternoon light poured in, the stoic sentry dissolved. Finnegan climbed into his suspended nest and let gravity take over. He rolled onto his back, exposing his fluffy belly to the warmth. His legs kicked awkwardly in the air, toes splayed, chasing invisible butterflies. In the sun, the regal king vanished, replaced by a blissfully happy creature who had forgotten where his limbs were. The tail, usually his flag of dignity, now hung lazily over the edge, twitching only in his dreams.
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.
