Let sleeping dogs lie. That’s what I’m thinking as I look at Latte snuggled next to me. She is flexing her toes and readjusting herself from being curled up into a basketball to stretching like an archer’s bow.
Java is curled up next to Steve on the loveseat. She appears to be enjoying the blanket I draped over one end of the furniture in my sad attempt to have the folds of material hang just so and cover up the hole Latte chewed through the leather. The wood frame is exposed on the side, the hole gaping big enough to swallow my cat Shy.
The two dogs are lying so still, I’m thinking I should take advantage of the situation and draw them, but experience tells me that they will certainly move before I’m even a quarter done. Not that their movement makes any real difference in the quality of my artwork…
Java is beginning to dream, eyes fluttering under her lids, her breath quickening and coming out in soft whimpers, while Latte lies dreamless, her battles fought during waking times…
The kind that breaks into
On the living room rug
Black tufts of fluff
Fly through the air
All over again
All of the bees
Out of her bonnet
As if waiting for applause
(Latte to the left, in a quieter moment, Java on the right)
– Cross-posted on Vision and Verb –