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Frodo the Trixie Cat

The faint clicking of my bedroom handle starts the jingling of bells down the stairs. Crouching to the last step of the staircase, I scratch behind Frodo’s ear as he struts and turns around me like a runway model.

MIK! MIK!

Squeaks from his mouth as he races to the pantry. With his tiny white paws, he pushes the door open and disappears into the small space.

MIK! MIK!

He dashes past me, quizzing me on the trick he’s been teaching me for the last few weeks.

What he wants is high on the third shelf. As I grab the bag of treats, Frodo’s paws beat at my leg in a desperate attempt to hurry me. What do they put in this snack? I wonder to myself, still groggy from an early morning dream.

The packaging rips, and the long, slender treat has him sitting like a perfect gentleman. He locks his eyes on the prize pinched between my index finger and thumb.

Without speaking, I toss the meaty treat to the stairs and watch him dash towards it. A sigh of relief, and I’m scooting toward the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. A glass mug clanks on the cold granite counter. Collagen powder and a pinch of salt dissolve into the fiery liquid, promising me creativity and clarity of thought.

Turning from the Machine of Life, I stumble over Frodo, sitting on the floor mere inches from my feet. He stares hypnotically into my eyes.

MIK! MIK!

“All right, come on,” I say.

He dashes past me, quizzing me on the trick he’s been teaching me for the last few weeks.

At my desk, I set my coffee on the giant mouse pad covering the natural wood surface and shuffle to the front door. The brisk predawn breeze blows the door open and Frodo surges past my feet like a prisoner being set free.

He stops at the edge of the front porch and perks his ears, scanning the driveways and patios of the surrounding homes. His eyes lock on the neighbor’s yard where a full-grown deer is strolling through the lawn, nibbling at the conveniently located garden.

“Don’t bother him,” I mumble to the cat who tunes his ears to the creature in the distance. “He is much bigger than you.”

Thankfully, he stays on the porch to study the peaceful creature. I walk back to my chair and plop my feet on the corner of my desk. The mouse chokes on yesterday’s muffin crumbs as I click open my email, taking a sip of my drink. Hot! Too hot!

CREAK!

The front door draws my attention from my now burnt tongue.

Frodo rushes through the open door, proudly marching his paws toward me. A snake with red and yellow stripes dangle from his teeth. Dropping it to the tiled floor sends it slithering toward my desk.

MIK! MIK!

“Good kitty,” I say, clambering to the safety of my office chair. What a way to start the day.