Walking on Water

If I walk in the woods, I generally hail Miss Kit, who tends to be in the vicinity; often enough I can see her hurrying towards me through the trees, bouncing along the ground like a little orange ball. I was down that way yesterday, and shouted, as usual, and heard a sorrowful voice raised in reply: there she was, on the opposite side of the swamp, hopping up and down with anxiety. She could see me, and I could see her, at a distance of perhaps thirty yards. Her cries got louder, then to my consternation, she made a bee-line for me. The surface of the swamp is a mat of monkey-flower (a kind of mimulus) over mud of unknown depth; she slogged across this undulant green carpet, wailing all the way, then eventually, got to the actual burn which runs through the middle, and paused, as well she might: it is about three feet wide at that point, and the surface beneath her feet was shifting and insubstantial. I was watching with considerable anxiety by that point, but she gathered herself together and sprang lightly across — Miss Kit can jump far greater distances but she was quite evidently attempting to float herself across so as to minimise both the kick-off and the impact of her landing — she did, inevitably, go through the surface on the other side, but to my great relief the waters did not close over her little head. She picked her way deftly from tussock to tussock, scrambled up the bank, and arrived at my side soaking wet, but triumphant. I have been preaching the virtues of going round by the Twisby Island bridge in future, to what effect we will have to see.

3 Responses to “Walking on Water”

  1. carol Says:

    Her innate feline superiority complex has clearly blinded her to the fact that anyone making a bee-line over tricky terrain needs, like the bee, the power of unassisted flight.

    I have seen cat-wellies in a variety of fetching colours in a Californian pet-emporium: any requests?

  2. Jane Says:

    Cat wellies, what a horrific thought. I might put in a bid for feline water-wings?

  3. carol Says:

    Water wings? I will pursue enquiries- wouldn’t be at all surprised at the availability of customised wind-surfing equipment for the more athletic Abbysinian either. (Has Miss K learned the trick with the doorknobs yet? Same muscle groups, I’m sure.)

    Please ignore hints of delerium in the above. Have returned south with a ripe and robust Common Cold. It’s a result of the Leeds New Year habit of everyone hugging and kissing a Prodigal neighbour and THEN telling her what a tenacious set of germs he/she had been entertaining since Christmas Eve/ Advent Sunday/ Whitsun before last…. Where’s the fairness in being able to taste every Beecham’s powder for a full half hour after slurping it, whilst last night’s medicinal Scotch had no impact on the deserving taste buds at all? I know it’s a conspiracy, but whose?

    Koff, koff….

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