Matching Wits | 27 october 2024, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2538: bald cat

Otto, a pudgy tomcat with two-toned whiskers to match the stark white emblem on his nose woke suddenly from a nap, startled by the high-pitched living room noise. Today wasn't just any day. He encountered a festive atmosphere as Dad and children were laughing while playing games, overshadowing the television in the background. He strolled across the room ignoring the several pairs of familiar slippers resembling his face flapping at the command of their owners.

Icicles hanging from the outdoor twinkling lights caught his attention. His sanctuary near the bay window afforded him the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity. He jumped upon the sill. Determining they weren't useful as toys, he jumped down, then snuggled deep in the carpet near the window, a lump of soot on a pile of indoor snow.

Immediately, his head jerked as the aroma of spices filled his nostrils. Salivating, he started, then paused, remembering Mom's previous warning that morning.

"The kitchen is off limits today, Otto," she ordered in her harshest tone while wagging her finger signaling the "NO" sign. His ruffled fur responded as if acknowledging that whatever was taking place in the kitchen was serious. He'd been with the family long enough to understand warnings. If continuously ignored, he'd be subjected to the outdoor elements. On any other occasion, he'd obey.

But today's aroma was enticing. No, it was intoxicating.

Dad and children watched as Otto sat for a long moment contemplating his next move. He looked back at them. They'd returned to their games, so he moved behind the couch as though concealing his intentions.

Out of sight, he peeked cautiously around the corner and into the kitchen, then defiantly entered knowing full well Mother had already issued a warning.

There was Mom, facing the stove, her apron showing. She smiled as she lifted a pot boiling broth to make gizzard and crawfish dressing. Her coordinated movements were quick and precise as both hands attended several other pots simmering on the stove. Intermittently, she bent to check on a dish inside the oven.

He'd already dismissed the pellet food in the mud room. Swallowing hard, he quietly crouched behind the center island unnoticed. Perhaps she'll brush some crumbs from the counter he must have wished.

Once Otto thought it safe, he dashed by, swiping Mom's leg with his collar. The movement startled her as the buckle snagged her support hosiery. She swung around not expecting Otto's presence. She forgot that her hand was gripping the pot handle closest to the edge of the stove.

It happened in a flash. Off the stove, the hot liquid spilled.

Mom screamed. Otto let escape a high-pitched meow that sounded like a human's startled yelp. All she saw was the family pet unable to gain his footing as he struggled to lick the hot liquid from his paw. Nothing he could do about the burning sensation on his back. Finally, he dashed toward the pet entrance.

Dad and the children jumped up from the floor and ran into the kitchen.

"Stay back!" Mom shouted, "there's hot liquid on the floor. And I believe Otto's hurt."*

"Where is he? and what happened?" Dad yelled!

"He's scalded, poor boy. See if you can find him" Mom wailed, aghast.

A horrific scream continued as Otto bolted out the pet entrance and rolled over several times in the snow.

"Thank God" they prayed after an emergency trip to the vet diagnosed that Otto would survive the ordeal.

Thanksgiving wasn't the same that year as Otto exchanged his beautiful, full ebony fur for a patchy, scab look. They hoped their bald cat had learned his lesson.

As of this writing, Mon, Dad, and the children have confirmed that Otto has not been seen again in the kitchen.

For my theme, I was inspired by and utilized the @daily.prompt's publishing of 27 october 2024, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2538: bald cat.