Thursday, July 30, 2009

7:11 AM, ANADYR, RUSSIA

Little Pearl strolled lazily through the den into the dining room. She stopped, looked up and around the room, then began to knead her pink paws on the rich oriental rug that smelled like those old people who used to visit. Suitably softened, the carpet felt warm under Pearl’s belly as she stretched onto it, revelling in the large squares of golden light coming from the bay window. She rubbed her cheek and ear on the rough carpet, first one side, then the other. She turned and circled the leg of the old mahogany dining table a few times, rubbing her sides on the wood that used to shine enough to see her reflection in it, but, after years of wear, now had just a dull, old-lacquer finish. Then she sprawled out, rolled over onto her back and pulled up her paws to warm her belly in the sunlight. She slept quietly, dreaming simple dreams.