I have a little shadow....

She is with me always, my little shadow. But instead of being the expected gray of many shadows she is the shade of vanilla ice cream, a blue-eyes ghost that leaves a trail of hairs on my keyboard as she passes through. My little poltergeist has learned to crawl behind my desk and turn off the powerstrip that supplies my monitor. I do not think she knows about electricity-- but being a cat, who can say?-- but she does know that if she walks around enough behind my desk that I will get up, and once on my feet I can be lured out to the garden to admire the finches in the birdbath and the giant moths helping themselves to the flowers on the butterfly bush. My little shadow becomes a lion in the grass, a hunter of the shrubs. Yet when I rise to go back inside, she appears at once, a little vanilla shadow pacing at my side.