To Dance With A Fetch

Smokey awkwardly wiggles out of Lyla's arms and jumps down with a heavy thud. She starts rubbing her head against Lyla's leg then stops as if demanding to have her ears scratched. Smokey stands firm as Lyla runs her hand down her back and up to the tip of her tail.

Walking down the stairs, Lyla looks around in amazement at how impressive the house is even in this dismal rainy lighting. She has uncovered most of the furnishings but several pieces here and there continue to be draped under off-white cloths that do not quite reach the floor. If she were a meek person, she might find herself believing in ghost, as the covers appear to be hovering several inches off the shiny wooden floorboards.

To the contrary, Lyla absolutely adores this place with its large slightly curved staircase. Actually, the staircase is her favorite feature of this well preserved home. It is incredibly grand and fills the generous two-story foyer making an impressive statement to those who enter. At the base stands an enormous full-length mirror that reaches from the baseboards to the ceiling and is several feet wide as it takes in an entire wall. It reflects the staircase beautifully creating a wonderful illusion of two sets of stairs instead of one.

Hanging high above it all is a massive five-tier chandelier that is difficult to define to any particular era. It is made of wood and iron with inlays of stained glass in various designs and colors. When lit, it not only brightens with white light but casts a rainbow effect along the edges of the room as the glow reflects and shines through the colored glass.

Today however, due to the lingering rainstorm, the house is somewhat bleak and the entire structure has a slightly unsettling and downright creepy feeling to it. Lyla thinks that maybe she is a bit touchy due to the rude awakening Smokey gave her a few minutes earlier, not to mention the immense amount of wind and rain that is plummeting down on the house.

"I need coffee, girl. Let's get you some breakfast as well." says Lyla.

Smokey darts down the last few steps ahead of her and disappears into the kitchen. As Lyla's bare feet land on the glossy wooden floor of the foyer, she can hear the rush of water pouring off the roof. It runs down the gutters of the expansive front porch splashing out as it escapes onto the already saturated front yard. Lyla follows Smokey to the kitchen and starts looking around the room at the stacks of boxes until she finds the one marked Smokey's Food. She pops the top open and pulls out two cans.

"Hum, mashed smoked salmon or chunky beef tips in gravy? I don't know which is worse, the food cats eat or the remains they leave in the litter box." Lyla wrinkles up her nose.

She pours the wet cat food into Smokey's crystal bowl and it makes a wet slurping sound as it drops from the container. She places the bowl on the floor and Smokey gobbles her food down while Lyla makes a pot of coffee. Once the rich brew is complete, she pours herself a nice warm cup and adds creamer until it becomes a light brown with a velvety look to it.

"Now let's see what kind of updates are sitting in the old inbox this morning." Lyla says to herself as she grabs her cup of coffee.

She heads to the room where she is setting up her home office. It is a small space that is just around the corner from the kitchen and has access from a hall that runs from the foyer alongside the staircase and to the sunroom at the back of the house. Large windows look out at the backyard and offer dappled lighting to the room.

Lyla takes a sip of coffee, sets her cup down on the desk, and stretches her arms above her head as she yawns. Now that she is completely awake, she sits herself down in front of her laptop and signs in. As she checks her messages and calendar notices, she realizes not many requests are pending which today is a good thing. This will allow more time for unpacking and organizing. However, a few verbiage updates are in order for three different clients.