LOCHINVAR
“He listened. His round, intelligent eyes were bright with curiosity. After a moment he expanded the frilly lettuce-green crest on the top of his head that was his organ for distance thought perception. He listened with it too, cocking his head thoughtfully from time to time.”
“He put his tiny paws on the edge of the drain hole and levered his limber, celery-stalk body up on the porcelain.”
“He bunched his four neat little paws under him, let his undercurved frondy tail hang down into the sink, and composed himself for a nice nap on the rim of the drainboard.”
““I thought it was some sort of lizard, but it’s shaped more like a sea horse. It doesn’t look dangerous, anyhow.” Lochinvar had opened his agate eyes and was looking at them.”
“Lochinvar ate daintily, partly nibbling, partly licking, like a cat, with his delicate golden tongue.”
“‘Why, he’s covered with fur!” she said, surprised. “That green stuff is as soft as silk.”’
“This woman didn’t realize — and, if he had his way, never would realize — that she and her husband had been harboring one of the fabulous Gryna animals. The Gryna animal’s peculiar mental abilities run like a particolored thread through Martian history.”
Margaret St. Clair, Lochinvar
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