Followers of my soon-to-be abandoned “personal” blog (this one is morphing into my one and only) are acquainted with the dog and two cats who live with us. Al is my daughter’s cat. He’s 18, and selectively incontinent. That means he prefers to do his business upon any piece of plastic he can reach in the basement, with the litter boxes (we have two–count ’em–two) as backup when the plastic is all full.
So you may (or may prefer not to) imagine my feelings when I was grooming him last night and came across a long tubular brown thing about the diameter of a slim pencil on the top of his tail. (It wasn’t what I thought, just so you know.)
I was like, “Yes, but on TOP of it?”
So I got a bit of paper towel and pulled it off.
It was a slug.
I was like, “How inactive do you have to be, for a slug to hitch a ride?”
Slug-lovers, I regret to say that the slug did not survive its sojourn in the waterless world of cat hair and its subsequent retrieval.
Let us observe a moment of silence in its memory.
writing prompt: Give a character an aged animal. Is it his/her own, or one he/she is looking after long-term or short-term. What is the character’s attitude? What is the animal’s attitude?