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Sunday Breakfast

I was leisurely scanning the Sunday Newspaper headlines. It is my favourite activity and I don't trade it for anything.

Khurr, eawoon, voon, grroor and such other sound bits wafted in through the window. This made me a little curious but the crispness of the headlines simply outweighed my curiosity and tethered me to where I was.

The next minute was different. A louder version of yeawoon, fissoon buzzed my years. The question, "What makes it so happy?" perturbed me. I knew the perpetrator yet the outburst of happiness was unusual. A queer urgency instigated me. I just clumsily folded the news paper and shoved it under the paperweight. Just five steps brought me to the courtyard.

I scanned it. Even the pebbles were at rest. The perpetrator of those funny sound bites was nowhere in site. The all pervading normalcy winked at me and queried, "Are you ok?"  I Just brushed away the question.

My mind pinged me, "You better look for the perpetrator!" I nodded meekly and resumed my scanning. That is when I spotted the wagging tail. Oh! Boozo, my cat you are here!" My mind responded.

I walked on toes. With every step the view unfolded in bits and pieces. Boozo, my cat was crouching over something elongated, with a bulging girth in the middle which seemed to be wrapped in varying shades of blackish gray colour.

Boozo's head was blocking most of the details. Boozo had locked the object by placing two front paws on it. "It is no longer a kitten to be amused  by some rolling object." For a better view I lowered myself by folding my knees.

Boozo possibly sensed my presence. It simply slid back.a little and looked at me. A rat lying on its back, legs in the air with ripped open tummy spewing blood came in view. The blood stained mouth, ruffled whiskers and teeth holding strands of flesh explained the reason for unusual happiness.

In a flash it dug in the nails to tore open a wider portion and looked right in my eyes that said, " It tastes fantastic. It is fresh and warm. Come join me."

That invite for Sunday Morning breakfast sent me off the track. Visuals of me tearing at and  competing with Boozo flashed before my eyes. That was yikes! I just rose up and waved at it to mean please continue and be considerate enough to leave me out.

You can find more of such writing in KINDLE READER compliant digital format at
AMAZON / Books / e-books / INDIAN FLAVOUR SHORT STORIES Part - 1/2/3

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