The Bed Keeper
The Bed Keeper The Bed Keeper looked down at me from her pillow throne. Slate gray and serene, she observed me silently. She was sizing me up, trying to decide if I was friend or foe. In the cat kingdom as with all kingdoms, this is first and foremost. Seeing as how I bowed below her immediately, I seem to have made a favorable impression. However, she followed me with her eyes as I executed the bed ritual: the changing of the day costume to night, the stripping off of any dayness paramount to approaching her throne yet again. When I had finished with the cleansing bathroom ritual, I returned to ask permission to ascend her throne. She gazed at me with her gold eyes but said nothing. How was I supposed to know if this was an assent or refusal? I moved toward her cautiously, inching toward the prized throne. It was true that I was there to overthrow her, although I wished it to be as pacific as possible. She made no comment as I nudged her slightly, but she refused to ...