Puppies and Kittens

'I was trying to mate with the winter wolf who was contained with some snow leopards. the leopards were female and dangerous but the wolf was gentle. I can still feel his fur under my fingers. He was shy and easily frightened.' - Gattina's Prison Dream Journal Entry 19/4/2009

So I've been playing house for the last few days and it's nice. I had asked my grappler to make me feel like a woman again because you see, even a girl as fully embracing of her womanhood as Gattina will take a hit from a quarter of a year in prison. It's not just abstention, it's never being spoken to or looked at as a female. Very difficult to describe. So my boy (I am going to call him Krishna from now on) has been equipping my body with sat-nav so that if he goes blind, he can still easily find his way from say my right ankle to my left inner thigh. Wicked. He's also been allowing me to do all manner of other womanly things such as cleaning house, cuddling the boxer-dawg, and shopping and cooking. The dawg (Krishna is most certainly a cowboy and cowboys have dawgs, not dogs.) has fallen in love with me, I think. Follows me everywhere, guards me, sits on me, kisses me, cuddles me.. it's probably because I always smell of the food I make for his papa. Rubbed dalmation sage pork with veg amandine, roast beef dinner with shiraz reduction thickened to a sauce with beurre maitre,etc. Now you all know that Gattina is no domesticated feline, every time she tries it she gets left and in a hurry so don't worry that she's getting all carried away yet again.
I truly believed that by now I would be married to my lion and with our first child and the loss of him and of our dreams hurts. My father can't quite get his head round us announcing our engagement to our families and then not following some sort of protocol to end it. The way it looks now, my lion's illustrious family couldn't bear the thought of an ex con daughter-in-law so I was unceremoniously dumped via solicitor. Ouch. Puts my back up, I tell you. Ah but back to prison...
Bronzefield is a pretty rough prison. Most of the prisoners are Brits in for drug related crimes. Many of them are career criminals who are as comfortable in the nick as out on the street. Gattina stayed out of the way in the gym, rowing her little boat and riding a spinning bike for hours a day. It was through this course of action (trying to quietly stay out the way and work out through the detox phase) that I got embroiled in lesbian intrigue. My mate likes you, said a tattooed, pockmarked little blonde to me whilst we waited to be chosen on benchball teams. She indicated a tall young footballer goofing off to one side. I'm engaged, I said, to a man. That was just ignored and the next thing I know, the footballer and I are engaged in adolescent courtship by throwing things at each other, riding cycles together on pretend Aussie beaches, tickling, tackling, etc. Then, along comes a new inmate named after a Greek goddess who fancies my footballer so starts making noises about throwing scalding sugar water in my face. The footballer says, oh don't worry- she wouldn't risk the extra 2 years on her sentence. I stand my ground and somehow we all end up lovely little teaparty girlie-friends in the end. Too strange to be fiction, my dears, too damn strange.