Playtime

It is not but a tiny ball of yarn I say as I roll it around in my hand then throw it away. The littlest furball sees it and squalls a hiss which made her mother even twitch. She pounced and rolled and bounced and scolded that teeny tiny ball of yarn until she molded it upon her four paws. Down on her back it was a balancing act which then brought a smile to my face in fact. Oh my goodness the cuteness and the pureness addresses each part of my heart. Her eyes alight as her brother jumps in or on if you will. Within a moment it is a torrent of hisses and scratches which the ball of yarn matches by somehow staying together. As the claws turn to paws each lies on their and pauses if only to draw more air. Then again it ensues two frisky kitties on the loose as the ball they did choose for theirs.