K is for Kitty
This one is dedicated to Aloemilk as an apology for my being so spacy! Hope you enjoy.
K is for Kitty
"Mummy! Kitty!" Crookshanks tried to school himself not to respond to the excitement in the little voice. He would not get his hopes up - not again. He donned his haughtiest air of dignity and regally lifted his head to gaze at the small boy.
"Yes, darling," an older, less enthusiastic voice answered. "He looks like he's...been around a bit. Why don't we look over here at these kitties?"
"Kitties! Pretty kitties!" The pair moved off to glance at a lovely calico nearby. She gave Crookshanks a superior smirk and preened for the little boy and his mother. "How much for the calico?"
Crookshanks tuned out the rest of the conversation with an inward sigh. He began to groom himself meticulously to avoid seeing someone else become part of a happy family. The little round witch who fed him was always reassuring him that it would be his turn someday, that he would find the witch or wizard just right for him.
Just last week he had been sure he had found the one. An elderly witch had looked him over carefully and actually spoken to him. "Part-kneazle, are you? I'll bet you're a smart fellow."
His heart had leapt at the praise. Maybe this time... "Do you breed kneazles here?" she had asked the saleswitch.
"No, but I can give you the contact information for our breeder." Crookshanks had sighed, and the elderly witch had departed; no doubt to find the full kneazle she desired.
Crookshanks finished his grooming. The right witch would find him, he was certain. After all, he was brave. He never hesitated in a fight, as his battered body attested. He was smart and could suss out a threat instantly, he would keep her from harm. He had soft thick fur that she could bury her face in if she was sad or lonely. His witch (and somehow he was sure it would be a witch) would be the smartest, cleverest, kindest witch of all. He deserved the best. Crookshanks curled into a contented ball, dreaming of a castle with mice and a soft warm lap.
K is for Kitty
"Mummy! Kitty!" Crookshanks tried to school himself not to respond to the excitement in the little voice. He would not get his hopes up - not again. He donned his haughtiest air of dignity and regally lifted his head to gaze at the small boy.
"Yes, darling," an older, less enthusiastic voice answered. "He looks like he's...been around a bit. Why don't we look over here at these kitties?"
"Kitties! Pretty kitties!" The pair moved off to glance at a lovely calico nearby. She gave Crookshanks a superior smirk and preened for the little boy and his mother. "How much for the calico?"
Crookshanks tuned out the rest of the conversation with an inward sigh. He began to groom himself meticulously to avoid seeing someone else become part of a happy family. The little round witch who fed him was always reassuring him that it would be his turn someday, that he would find the witch or wizard just right for him.
Just last week he had been sure he had found the one. An elderly witch had looked him over carefully and actually spoken to him. "Part-kneazle, are you? I'll bet you're a smart fellow."
His heart had leapt at the praise. Maybe this time... "Do you breed kneazles here?" she had asked the saleswitch.
"No, but I can give you the contact information for our breeder." Crookshanks had sighed, and the elderly witch had departed; no doubt to find the full kneazle she desired.
Crookshanks finished his grooming. The right witch would find him, he was certain. After all, he was brave. He never hesitated in a fight, as his battered body attested. He was smart and could suss out a threat instantly, he would keep her from harm. He had soft thick fur that she could bury her face in if she was sad or lonely. His witch (and somehow he was sure it would be a witch) would be the smartest, cleverest, kindest witch of all. He deserved the best. Crookshanks curled into a contented ball, dreaming of a castle with mice and a soft warm lap.