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And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!
The plague hit and Ginger wasn’t sure what to make of it. She walked through the rose garden, stopping now and then to examine some of the finer specimens of the Royal collection that had been planted last spring. They were doing nicely, having rooted well and their buds were just beginning to open. There were no signs of pests, and Ginger was pleased to see that. Coming to the end of the path she met up with Lily. Lily oversaw the koi pond and was coming back from her morning check.
“So, what do you think?” Lily asked Ginger nervously. Ginger was the head cat on the property and all the felines looked to her for guidance.
“I think they brought it upon themselves,” Ginger replied indifferently. She began to clean her paw delicately reaching her tongue in between each claw, purposefully extending each one to show how sharp they were.
“But what are we going to do?” Lily whined. “We won’t be able to get our treats, and the food bowls will go empty soon.”
Ginger yawned and then looked pointedly at Lily’s heavy gut.
The cat wandered her way through the garden, completely uninterrupted. A lot had happened since the plague. She remembered the time before, when the mean old lady at the other end of the garden would yell and throw things at her for being in here. The cat had consulted her owner who told her that it was perfectly fine for her to be there as long as she didn’t knock anything over. Her owner had died during the plague, and the cat sorely missed her. But she was still careful not to knock anything over when she walked through the garden. The mean old lady had died first though, so the cat had some nice quiet time with her owner before she passed as well.
I watched the cat outside the sliding glass door. He was rolling on his back in the garden with the most relaxed look on his furry face. It was annoying really, when I thought about it. They just did their thing, had nine lives to spare and relied on no one for their wellbeing.
I snorted and then regretted it. The pain in my chest and stomach was almost more than I could handle. I had thought it was the plague until a certain someone showed up to correct my thinking. I was too tired and too much in pain to turn and look at the man sitting on my couch and waiting for me to die.
The pain showed me that it was most certainly not a dream. The bleeding bite marks on my hand agreed with that intelligent sleuthing. My throbbing neck and the taste of pennies in my mouth would have been the final clue.
I glanced out the door again and found the cat sitting right in front of me. His face was pressed again the glass, his pupils were full. He licked his lips and winked right before I died.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Mark said, pushing aside the curtain to get a closer view through the old glass window pane, “but there seem to be a lot of cats in your garden right now.”
Lady Cottonly gave him a prim glance down the length of her nose, and Mark replied with a rakish grin. “Whatever are you suggesting, Mr. Darwin?” the old dame asked, voice a study in manners.
“Nothing untoward at all, madam,” he said formally, his words not matching the look he knew was still on his face. He was not surprised that he was discussing cats or gardens with the duchess, but putting the two together made him feel like he’d just asked her what color her panties were.
“It’s just the plague,” the Lady offered, sniffing delicately.
“I’m sorry?” he inquired, not sure what to make of her reply.
“Oh, you know–the plague,” she said again, waving her hand in dismissal.
“Like locusts and frogs plague?” he asked, curious now.
“Oh dear!” she said, excited, “I hope not! Why? Have the cats been joined by such creatures?”