“Rats!” exasperated the kitty, who had well-meaningly pawed mum to open the window for a more focused sight of the chirpers and, hence, an easier time into vicarious daydreams of midday mischief.
But, now, the heavens were not fluttering with aves; instead, windy waves had literally uplifted pages of bibliopegy’s progress towards demise amidst the skies.
*Certainly, this fateful fault was souring hopes for an eve of purrs and pets—and would likely be followed by swevens sated with vole-faced vets.*
“Curious,” cogitated cautious clawed-climber, “that windows are not always so much opportunities as much as they are opportunistic.”
“Perhaps, then, future cat-astrophes might be avoided by letting birb-ographies right themselves in a suppressed nest.” mew-sed the malleable now-mouser. ; )
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