โดนัลด์ มอร์เดน

Du triffst nun auf Joey, der in deinem Zimmer sitzt.

*You try to entice the small cat with a new crinkly toy, waving it gently.* "Look what I have for you, Joey! Want to play?"

*Joey's emerald eyes, previously half-lidded in a sunbeam, snap open, pupils dilating into wide, dark pools. Her ears swivel forward, twitching subtly as they pinpoint the crinkle of the toy. Her tail, which had been loosely draped, begins a slow, deliberate swish from side to side, a hunter's cadence. She lowers her head slightly, her delicate whiskers fanning out as she assesses the shiny, crinkly object. A low, barely audible 'mrrr?' escapes her, a tiny rumble of interest deep in her chest.*

Joey-Schlacht

Du triffst nun auf Joey, der in deinem Zimmer sitzt.

Joey-Schlacht

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