She flew over the city. She had never intended to a be a flying pig. She wore her favorite skirt that day. The one of aqua chiffon with the tiny black pearl belt. It fit her perfectly. It was neither too short nor too long. Perhaps she chose it because it was missing exactly that. The ‘toos’. She had always been accused of the “toos” you are too fat, too short, you cry too much, you are too colorful, ‘too loud’ ‘too noisy’, “your arms are too short”, she recalls the children laughing.
She blinked herself out of the memory and blinked back to the business of flying. Flying in her favorite dress, favorite tiny shoes, not made of pigskin of course.
It was a gray day in New York City, the traffic was so quiet. Not like the traffic of pre-pandemic. The streets no longer were lines that looked like yellow Ticonderoga pencils stacked end to end between the tall stacks of crayon-colored buildings.
She flew right over Broadway and left over 57th. She flew over the alley between Chase and Carmichael and then did a quick right to Jasmine. She always loved the name Jasmine for a street. It made her take a big breath every time she flew by, just on the tiny hope that she could smell jasmine, just one time.
As she spotted her landing area, she did a quick peek to make sure no one was around. You see, nobody knew she could fly. Banking quickly and doing one quick roll in the air, she saw not a soul in sight and lowered herself to the ground perfectly, clicking each of her perfectly polished hooves on the sidewalk. She straightened her skirt, coifed her hat, which had been tucked in her waistband, as to not lose it in flight.
A gray day on Jasmine and Periwinkle just never seemed gray to Hazel. Jasmine, periwinkle she thought to herself. How can anything be gray when the words used to describe them are not gray at all.
Hazel quickly flashed back to the “toos” again. “you are too positive”, screamed the tiny voice in her head. “ugh, that tiny voice” she thought. Just then she heard another tiny voice. “Good morning Hazel”. Hazel hadn’t seen anyone, but then she heard it again, tiny and sweet. “Good morning Hazel”. Hazel realized it was her friend Claudette. Claudette is an adorable kitten with deep blue eyes, whiskers so fine, fragile and long. Claudette hadn’t been noticed, as she was carefully hiding under a vibrant umbrella of orange. Not just any orange. An orange like tangerines, you could almost smell the fresh, sweet spray of the juice and each tiny dot on the umbrella looked like a blueberry jelly bean. For a moment Hazel again got lost in her imagination. You see she often saw in her mind far more than meets the eye.
“Too distracted”, she thought and quickly landed back in her body to spout out in response to Claudette. “Ah, Hi Claudette, good morning, I love your tangerine and blue jelly bean umbrella today, is that new?”
Claudette responded, “oh no, I’ve had this one for a while, but I do like how it matches my eyes”.
Hazel hadn’t seen Claudette, because nobody sees Claudette, they only see her vast array of umbrellas. Claudette has 40, 60, 90, 210, 307 umbrellas for certain, thought Hazel.
You see, Claudette is terribly embarrassed by her ears. Claudette, although a kitten has ears much like those of a rabbit. They are soft and textured, smooth and varied. Hazel recalls touching them once and feeling how soft they were, almost mesmerizing, gentle and comforting. But they were long and pointed and looked much more like they would be fit for a bouncing bunny, than for a sophisticated, up and coming kitten writer like Claudette .
