Ophelia's Madness

My Ophelia sits, poised and preening like a big question mark ready to go, ready to stay I scratch and rub her back gently, she curls and purls, asking for more. I take her into my arms, embracing as children and lovers do. She is quick to read the meaning behind the gesture, murmurs contentedly, affection is her due. Then I bring home another one, furry and white, as cuddly as she, but she throws herself into a fit of pique, demeanor turns bizarre, like a puppet manipulated by an unseen force. I never dream Ophelia misunderstands my very good intentions; I puzzle how my new cat, male and sensuous sends Ophelia, she-cat and sensuous too, scurrying, delving into madness. @jjote 080215