Blood Jungle Ballet*

“Face it, he’s not coming back,” the panther says as he sits on my windowsill, watching a squirrel on the bird feeder.

“He is,” I say.  “In a couple of weeks Seb will be back.”

“And, even if he comes back for a bit, then he’s going to university.  For three whole years,” the panther says, stretching his front legs, sticking his bum in the air.  “He’s bound to meet someone else who isn’t fat, or terminally ill or…”

“Seb says we have to live in the moment,” I say.  “So that’s what I’m doing.”

Admittedly, in this moment Seb is in the jungle, but I mean the-moment-in-which-we-are-together.  

“Well he’s not here, is he?” The panther says.

“He will be,” I say.  “He will be here very soon.”

The panther starts licking his flank, rasping it with his tongue.

Just have to keep reminding myself that Seb is coming back.

There are three artichokes in my bag and am looking forward to eating one.

Attached photo is the most beautiful fluffy monster in the world.  Miss him.

Happy Monday everyone!
*2014.  By John Enright.  Jungle murder mystery set in Samoa.


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