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  • Writer's picturecatsmama7

Lick, lick, lick.




From my open window, I can hear the sound of tires as they make their way down Main Street or through the parking lot. It’s been raining for days and the mood of the world seems gray and musty. It needs an airing out.

The cat licks herself next to my feet. It’s nonstop with her and I’m wondering if I’ll ever see her without the pink belly where she focuses hours of her day. She needs a social life just like her me. Sprawled out with her spine contorted she goes at herself on a mission of self destruction. Nothing we’ve done or can do can make her stop. She’s walked around with cones of doom wrapped around her neck and dipping into her water bowl. I’ve changed the food, the litter box, the treats, and all that’s possible, but she loves her licking. It’s like a skin picking thing for her. I feel for her little life of licking herself and I know that I’m her. I sit and lick (not in that way or I’d never leave the house), but never satisfying whatever is that’s causing the itch.

Life lessons learned from watching Riku lick.

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