[ Loiosh, an orange tabby wearing a green harness, is standing with his head down amidst a small thicket of bright green blades of grass. Directly behind him is a swift-flowing river. Loiosh himself is blurry, the camera having decided instead to focus on the grass. ]
Took a trip up to Salida a while back. Got some pictures of Loiosh eating grass, as you do. The Arkansas was in full spate, the grass was delightfully green, the surfers enjoying themselves on the (twice) freshly rebuilt standing wave (about which more over here, a perfectly timed, perfect article).
We’d sat to watch the surfers for a while (Loiosh has always been popular among those waiting their turn, & has been declared Surfer Cat despite never having been on a board in his life; I need to find an article about one of the many cats who actually surf next time we’re up there), but Loiosh got bored, so off we went. & then, of course, there was grass.
[ Loiosh’s mouth is open, a single blade of grass disappearing into his maw. He’s standing on a pretty good-sized boulder, one of the ones lining the river. Once again, my phone camera has decided the grass is the more important part of the image. ]
I always get just a bit concerned when the boy gets close to swift-flowing water. It’s not like he’s likely to fall in, & he certainly wouldn’t go in on purpose, but also, The Anxiety. So I hang on tight to his leash, & keep myself prepared to fling clothing aside & dive in after him should it somehow prove necessary anyway.
Probably I should have made sure he was a strong swimmer when he was much younger, but I ain’t doing it now. He’d murder me in my sleep. Also, I mean, he’s sixteen.
Anyway the surfers would totally rescue him. They like cats.
[ A view from above. The thicket of grass is between Loiosh and the river in almost all directions. There’s also a partly-submerged boulder between him and the most vigorous flow. ]
He’s fine. He’s absolutely, totally, perfectly safe. Just ask him.
