Feline grace (lack of)

Yesterday I watched a cat jump onto a garden wall; it was a perfect exercise in how cats are meant to jump – like their paws are full of springs, like they are pulled onto the wall with a magnet, like their bodies are made of mercury.

My duvet cover is covered in little puncture marks where it flows over the edge of the bed. These are made by El Mog digging in his claws for extra purchase as he clambers up, back legs scrabbling. There is not, never will be, and I imagine never has been, anything fluid about my cat.


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