Geynest under Gore (or: Siamese by My Knees)
(Thanks to Laurence Simon for the rhyming subtitle)
Her Ladyship’s habit of using my skirt as a tent sometimes makes me think of a very old love song I came across long ago. Written sometime in the early fourteenth century, it is addressed to a woman named Alison and, in the last verse, calls her “geynest under gore”—fairest under the gown. Yesterday, Her Ladyship showed once more that she is indeed “fairest under the gown”—only it’s my “gown” that she happens to be under.
Yup, that bulge under the blue fabric is Her Ladyship.
Her Ladyship was in an unusually affectionate mood at the time. I detect a purr!
When I told her that I had to go, she said, “Go, my foot!” and promptly lay down on mine.
But the next day, Her Ladyship was back to her growly, yowly ways.
“I vant to be alone.”
Missy gets her two cents in:
“Stop chasing after Her Ladyship and come play with me!”