'Mr. Darcy': Earl of Fence
Lord Darcy returns to claim a new title! In addition to his estates at Pemberley, he is also now the "Earl of Fence"…apparently.
****
It had been a very long night indeed, since I stayed awake to finish a memorial video for my grandmother’s funeral the next afternoon. The sun was barely peeking out from the covers of its slumber when I finally finished and decided NOT to take a short nap before getting ready for the funeral, and instead, to take advantage of the cool morning air with a coffee and cigarette break. I grabbed my mug and walked out into my poorly manicured garden, begrudgingly gazing at the horizon. Damn the sun and its….sunny attitude. Having been denied sleep for more than 24 hours, I was very grumpy.
As I walked to find a seat I saw “Mr. Darcy”, the magnanimous aristo-CAT who haunts my backyard, approach from the midst of my untamed rosemary shrubs.
He sat at the edge of the porch surveying my unkempt and ragged appearance with a flicker of amusement in his gray eyes. There were no pleasantries exchanged as I had obviously not passed his inspection. But he was in fine form as usual with his fur impeccably kept and not at all matted despite escaping my wild and unruly rosemary. He stood and stretched out his legs, making quite an exhibit of his muscular haunches, before mounting the fence in one graceful jump.
“Show off”, I grumbled as I tucked in to pay homage to the tobacco plant and coffee bean.
I watched him glide across the fence and settle himself on the corner post. He sat rigid, sweeping his eyes across the yard methodically. When he was confident that all was as it should be in the garden he lowered his head to ruffle the fur of his torso. With absolutely no modesty, he puffed out his chest in a display of superior, feline masculinity and began to paw at something on the neighbor’s side of the fence. Without getting up, I turned in my seat and peered over to try and see what it was.
It seemed the neighbor bought a new pet--a colorful parakeet that they kept in a standing, antique bird cage against the fence. Mr. Darcy was mischievously batting at the roof of the cage and the bird began to chirp. His big gray eyes turned silver with glee at the little bird’s obvious discomfort.
It was mesmerizing to watch the contrast of the noisy, flittering parakeet against Mr. Darcy’s severe posture and slow, calculating movements. He didn’t even flinch at the loud pang produced when the parakeet almost knocked himself out against the bars while trying to escape. Mr. Darcy’s commanding presence and complete control of his surroundings always enchants me.
He ceased his tormenting for a moment and adjusted his position on the post so that he could keep one paw on the cage and face my direction at the same time. As his gaze met mine he smirked at me and lowered his head in a mocking bow. He knew I was watching and knew that my interest was held in his actions. He really was a show off!
“Yes, yes, Mr. Darcy. You are intimidating and impressive”, I said sarcastically. He blinked with eyes turning to cold steel that seemed to scowl at me.
I turned away from him and felt the beginnings of a headache forming at my temples since that horrible little bird would not stop chirping. I couldn’t really blame it for it's cries of anguish. Mr. Darcy really was intimidating after all, but the bird’s high pitched pleas were becoming annoying. I took a quick look in Darcy’s direction and he stubbornly held his paw over the cage. He was like a statue! A relentless, furry cat statue with the most the beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.
"Really, Darcy! Why do you insist on torturing him? You know very well you can’t get to him while he’s in that cage!” I huffed while turning around in my chair to see the smug look of accomplishment in Mr. Darcy’s eyes. I needed more coffee.
He seemed pleased with the notion that he could make both myself and the bird uncomfortable, and delighted at my annoyance and fragile state of mind. I refused to acknowledge him as he hopped from the fence post to resume his position in front of me at the edge of the porch.
As always, he flashed me a final smirk of goodbye before disappearing into the brush. Chirp.
****
It had been a very long night indeed, since I stayed awake to finish a memorial video for my grandmother’s funeral the next afternoon. The sun was barely peeking out from the covers of its slumber when I finally finished and decided NOT to take a short nap before getting ready for the funeral, and instead, to take advantage of the cool morning air with a coffee and cigarette break. I grabbed my mug and walked out into my poorly manicured garden, begrudgingly gazing at the horizon. Damn the sun and its….sunny attitude. Having been denied sleep for more than 24 hours, I was very grumpy.
As I walked to find a seat I saw “Mr. Darcy”, the magnanimous aristo-CAT who haunts my backyard, approach from the midst of my untamed rosemary shrubs.
He sat at the edge of the porch surveying my unkempt and ragged appearance with a flicker of amusement in his gray eyes. There were no pleasantries exchanged as I had obviously not passed his inspection. But he was in fine form as usual with his fur impeccably kept and not at all matted despite escaping my wild and unruly rosemary. He stood and stretched out his legs, making quite an exhibit of his muscular haunches, before mounting the fence in one graceful jump.
“Show off”, I grumbled as I tucked in to pay homage to the tobacco plant and coffee bean.
I watched him glide across the fence and settle himself on the corner post. He sat rigid, sweeping his eyes across the yard methodically. When he was confident that all was as it should be in the garden he lowered his head to ruffle the fur of his torso. With absolutely no modesty, he puffed out his chest in a display of superior, feline masculinity and began to paw at something on the neighbor’s side of the fence. Without getting up, I turned in my seat and peered over to try and see what it was.
It seemed the neighbor bought a new pet--a colorful parakeet that they kept in a standing, antique bird cage against the fence. Mr. Darcy was mischievously batting at the roof of the cage and the bird began to chirp. His big gray eyes turned silver with glee at the little bird’s obvious discomfort.
It was mesmerizing to watch the contrast of the noisy, flittering parakeet against Mr. Darcy’s severe posture and slow, calculating movements. He didn’t even flinch at the loud pang produced when the parakeet almost knocked himself out against the bars while trying to escape. Mr. Darcy’s commanding presence and complete control of his surroundings always enchants me.
He ceased his tormenting for a moment and adjusted his position on the post so that he could keep one paw on the cage and face my direction at the same time. As his gaze met mine he smirked at me and lowered his head in a mocking bow. He knew I was watching and knew that my interest was held in his actions. He really was a show off!
“Yes, yes, Mr. Darcy. You are intimidating and impressive”, I said sarcastically. He blinked with eyes turning to cold steel that seemed to scowl at me.
I turned away from him and felt the beginnings of a headache forming at my temples since that horrible little bird would not stop chirping. I couldn’t really blame it for it's cries of anguish. Mr. Darcy really was intimidating after all, but the bird’s high pitched pleas were becoming annoying. I took a quick look in Darcy’s direction and he stubbornly held his paw over the cage. He was like a statue! A relentless, furry cat statue with the most the beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.
"Really, Darcy! Why do you insist on torturing him? You know very well you can’t get to him while he’s in that cage!” I huffed while turning around in my chair to see the smug look of accomplishment in Mr. Darcy’s eyes. I needed more coffee.
He seemed pleased with the notion that he could make both myself and the bird uncomfortable, and delighted at my annoyance and fragile state of mind. I refused to acknowledge him as he hopped from the fence post to resume his position in front of me at the edge of the porch.
As always, he flashed me a final smirk of goodbye before disappearing into the brush. Chirp.