Juddged
Claws carefully curled, purreened and purressed about the clipboard in one paw. The other held a pair of markers: purrple and blue. Meowthodically he tapped with one of them upon the clipboard, cat's eyes scanning from paper to placement, to the meowtching purrple and blue ink on the earth below.
Spotted black and white fur puffed somewhat at this sight. Gem yellow cat's eyes glistened toward the horizon. A sun sat heavily overhead. Hairly clawse to noon. He tittered in place, tap-tap-tapping one of the markers against the clipboard. He uncatpped it, pulsing purrple ink into pristine paper, playing with the color until a suitable margin meowtched with the landscape.
He inched closer, then stepped back. His tuxedo fur stiffened with the meowtion. Cactful eyes catculated a bit more distance submerged ahead; with a pffck cracked open the blue, and then he was coloring there, bustling in too. He wiped at a whisker, tongue flicking out, glaring into the heat of the day with but two markers to guide him.
The meowstly blank map stared back.
Bristling, he went forward again: this time without rebuking his step. A splotch of blue marker—he wasn't purring enough attention—scratched a bit of paw. He bristled a bit more, eyes narrowing. Inched a little forward again.
Eventually he left grass, soft and springy, to slick and sticky ink, ink, gaudy bright purrply pink; his face heated as a squelch uttered from his foot. Another step. Sqiiiiiiiiiiich. Another. Squennchhhhhh.
Ears flattened, he catinued anyways. A grimace drooped into his face.
PURP.
His tail plopped into the ink.
Grunt. Pawse. Grunt again. Meowve on.
A spot of blue. The look on his face reflected back into those glistening eyes. Another pawse. He didn't start meowving again, just stared, for a moment. At the body, the puffy, awkward body he hasn't been used to since he got it. Ears meowstly stiff and limp and mottled. That... glare in the gaze. The ink simmering underfoot.
He bit his lip, looking astray. Uncatpped the blue marker, scribbled a bit.
Another step. Another spurp. Another long, hard stare into the someone below.
Oh. It's almost his lunch break, isn't that right? Hrm. The scowl furrowed into something akin with wonder. Yes, it was almost his lunch break. He looked back at the Judd below him, and the two shared a knowing look. A paw reached out into the midst; it only halted when the slick and sticky blue intermingled with the fur, and he bristled, and he darted back again.
Wiped the blue on his leg.
Lunch breaks were the worst.
Quickly he whiskered through a bit more terrain, covering some purrple, some blue, scribbling furiously into his clipboard. But then he pawsed again, and he looked back into the ink with the long, puffy face looking back. And he reached again. And he touched it, but for a moment, before wiping it back upon his leg.
With high noon sailing, the ink grew shinier and shinier, and everywhere the cat's eyes flashed another pair would flash back. He'd dart back and plow forward and dart back again, swerving and trying to avoid those eyes of his, but even so they would stare and they would wait. And they would haunt him yet again.
Big, gold eyes. Trapped in a big, black head, just flecked of white. A purrposeless face turning back, and back. He skittered back—slipped—and fell into a hot mess of blue.
SPPLURURRCHHHT!
The markers scattered from his grip, sinking, bubbling into the viscous trap. Judd lifted a head of deep, purressed cerulean into the air and simpered to himself.
That big face stared back as if laughing. Gold eyes twinkling, big fat face. He wiped at a cheek, clawing back again. Pulling his sad little markers out of their tomb, plucking the clipboard, scribbling into his swamp, his sea, his entirety. Plowing back, he turned, and turned, and exited, leaving blue footprints on the purrple ahead. Wiping at a cheek absentmeowndedly.
Purrple was not a good color on him. Especially not with these new markings. Ulhhh.
He pulled both paws out from beside him, plopping his clipboard and markers back into the ink, and he purressed his paws into his cheeks, wincing.
It wasn't always like this, was it?
He stepped back, glided forth, spinning a bit in place. Tail fat and lanky, sailing in the air. Falling, then, turning back, back again, and he winced.
Those big gold eyes stared back at him.
Inside of those eyes was a story. A long story. One so long it couldn't all fit, and the longer the story got, the harder it was to see what happened first. But what happened first was what meowttered, all that meowterred to him.
A long and pale face drawn with lines, like whiskers, like old meowmeries of smiles. Glasses twinkling like cat's eyes; a big coat; fluffy, curly hair—receding slowly but surely.
Good-bye, my purrfect little kitty cat...
How those golden eyes yarned...
Judd reached again toward the creature in the mirror, the creature from long ago, whose paw purrfectly fit into his but he couldn't touch it, whose slick, sticky body was so near but he couldn't catch it, who just stared and stared and stared. And that was all.
He meowthodically lifted the markers, meowthodically lifted the clipboard, and he walked down down down splurch splurch splurch and colored fiercely the rest of the blue terrain... well it looked like he had a winner.
Judd glanced yarnfully back at the ink, back at the creature he left behind as he sauntered into soft springy grass, and back again at the footprints he left behind, at the little paw-marks that would soon wither into nothingness.
He swallowed, and he turned back forward again.
Another day was another day. A purrposeful look shouldered him, like he held the utmost of impurrtance to them all. Like he had reason, like he had hope, like he had... had... had...
A wary glance at his ink-tracked markers, at his somewhat-stained clipboard.
Cactfully he shouldered this too, and he sighed a soft sigh.
Today was okay, he supposed. Hairly.