Grampa Kitty

This afternoon I decided to watch a Netflix movie. As the whole shebang began, the MGM lion appeared, roaring loudly like he has been doing for decades. My old cat Oz, standing on the sofa arm, stood transfixed as the lion roared, watching the TV, listening to the untamed bellow. When it was over, he snapped back to reality and jumped down to sit beside me. I think that roar spoke to Oz's inner lion. For a couple of seconds, the call of the wild resounded through his small, aging body and his long-domesticated spirit. For a few seconds, Oz was king of the wild jungle.