Count, Down

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Amelia stared at the remains of her yarn basket contents now shredded, pulled, destroyed, with bits of unidentifiable ick mixed in for good measure. The kids promised to put all of the crafting supplies away before breakfast.

“4, 3, 2, 1! Step right up or all is done!”

She put her hands on her hips and listened for the pitter patter of panicked feet or the mournful moans of a munckin in misery nearby. With neither forthcoming, she repeated the warning then started her search.

Amelia found the old feline curled up under the furthest corner of the bed.

“Count, Count, Count. How many times are we going to play this game?” Amelia shimmied under the bed as far as she could go and began to coax the gray and white cat. The fact that he didn’t claw her worried her.

“I suspect you found something the kids left behind, huh?” She sighed. Last thing she wanted to do was go to the vet. But, if Count was down, she had no choice.