Monday, January 23, 2006

Singed a bit, were you?

I looked at Jasper the other day, and his face looked lopsided. For a kitty with a giant head, that's a pretty scary thought. Then I realized I had seen that look before. Scott used to like to build bonfires in the back yard at the group home in Michigan, and there's no better accelerant than gasoline to start a fire. But one needs to be prepared to jump back quickly or eyebrows and bangs tend to get singed off. Back to Jasper. His whiskers on one side: long, white, straight, luxurious, the envy of any self-respecting Bengal. The other side, however, were uneven, and somewhat curly. How did he set his face on fire? I didn't remember any screams of pain. Then an image from the night before presented itself before my eyes--Jasper hunkered down beside the votive I had lit and stuck on the entertainment center to ward off the evil cat poop scent. I guess he ventured a little too close to the flame, and if curiosity didn't kill the cat, at least it gave him a good singe.

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