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Her pastime was interrupted quite abruptly when, with a beating of many small wings, the sparrows took off all together in a cloud of brown feathered bodies. The cause of this disarray continued running, completely disregarding, (as humans are wont to do,) the disturbance he had caused.
Now what is that human kit' up to now? wondered the cat as she stretched contemplatively. With a final twitch of her tail she set off along the wall to where, in a corner behind the little wagon cook used for market goods and such, the human child had stopped.
Curling her tail around her paws, she settled down to observe this careless intruder to her domain: He was a breathless boy of seven or eight with sun faded brown hair and a jam stained shirt.
This was a writing exercise I set myself a wile ago. The first version was a very boring run of sentiences:There was a cat sitting on the wall. Below the wall there was a bird feeder. The cat watched the birds. Then a boy came running by. The boy stopped at the corner of the wall. The cat walked to the corner and watched him. Very dull, but it did serve to jump-start my imagination. I have no idea what comes next but I liked the way it came out. Who knew writing a cat would be so much fun?
Also posted on my first blog, http://fromyesterdaystomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/05/on-wall-sat-cat.html
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