After a less than pleasant landing and the tell-tale sound of her silk stocking ripping, she sat staring blankly at the object in her lap. It was Morris. Or, what was left of Morris- beautifully preserved in an alert hunting stance. His fur was glossier than it had been in real life. He looked taller and more regal. She supposed that all the formaldehyde added a certain stature he never managed to acquire living in her house- where most of his days were spent running in terror from Finola, the cat despising Cocker Spaniel.
The sender had stuck a bouquet of purple tulips between the stuffed cat’s rigid jaws- her favorite flowers. Morris the cat stared at her with shiny but lifeless eye and though she never much cared for the feline, she felt compelled to pet him. The creaking of the front door startled her. Before she could gather her wits about her and hide the cat, her 2 o’clock appointment walked through the office door.. Any seasoned visitor to a psychiatrist office has been trained to expect just about anything. However, finding your therapist sitting on the ground, stockings ripped to shreds, caressing a stuffed cat does fall into the category of highly unusual.
This installment contributed by Willa.
