Category: Old Woman With No Cat
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat and the Cloud(Or: A Feline Declaration of War on Weather) The cat lies sprawled in his sunbeam,belly up,eyes half-closed, when a cloud drifts lazily across the skyand steals his light. He blinks.Warmth gone.Shadow.Cold.The impertinence of it. He sits up,ears flat,tail bristling. “Old Woman,” he hisses,“that cloud is messingwith my sunny spot.My carefully curatedafternoon…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat and the Man in the Moon(Or: A Feline Lunar Audit) The cat sits on the windowsill,nose pressed to the glass,tail curled around its paws,gazing up at the pale, glowing coinof the full moon. “Old Woman,” he says,without turning,“I don’t see a man’s face.I’ve been studying.Intently.For minutes now.And there is no man.There is a…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman’s Waffle Iron Predicts the Future The waffle iron arrivesthrift-shop-worn and hissing. Its hinges creak like gypsy’s bones,its non-stick grids etched with symbolsthat might be Nordic runes. The old woman pours batter, and the first prophecy bubbles up:“BEWARE THE 3RD TUESDAY OF NEXT WEEK.”She flips it, and squints:“Also, your cat is definitely plotting…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Teaches Poker(A Lesson in Literal Interpretations) The Old Woman lays the tools on the table: “Right,” she says,“The book said ‘Poker’is a game of fire and nerve.” The cat stares.Its expression suggeststhis may bethe stupidest momentin human history. “You poke the fire,” she explains,“and then I will poke it.We see who flinches…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat On Lavender(Or: A Feline Critique of Sanitary Accommodations) The Old Woman kneels in the evening light,gloved hands pressing soilinto a glorious blue-glazed pot,the scent of lavenderrising like a prayer. The cat sits beside her,tail curled neatly around his paws,observing the air,a discerning criticat a garden show. “So much better,” he says,“than the dusty…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Poll Deed Form(Or: A Feline Declaration of Independence) Question 4: Reason for name change. The cat hesitates.Taps the pen.Stares out the window.Sighs — a deep, theatrical sigh,the kind that shifts tectonic platesand alerts the neighbours. Then he writes: “I have outgrown the name I was given by a shed and a previous life.I am…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
Tuesday, Explained by a Cat The cat motions the old womanto the armchair with one deliberate paw. “Sit.We need to talk …about Tuesday.” She sits.He leaps onto the armrest,tail wrapped around his feet like a professor’s robe. “Tuesday,” he begins,“is not a day.It is a concept.A flawed concept. Exhibit A: Monday has purpose.It is universally…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Crow’s Supremacy(Or: A Feline Crisis of Gravity) The cat is stretched in a sunbeam,belly exposed,dignity intact,one eye fixed on the bare winter treewhere the crow stands.Stands!On a twig no thicker than a whisker,rocking slightly,as if gravity were a suggestionit had politely declined. “How,” the cat breathes,“can that bird do that?Stand on a twig?A twig,…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Fence Treaty(Or: A Headbutt Heard in New Zealand) The cat sits on the fence post,tail like a sceptre,looking down at Crymych,the Cane Corso,the Italian mastiff,the dog who digs holesand aspires to New Zealand. The cat clears its throat. “Tell you what,” he says,in the tone of a kingoffering a peasant a crumb,“I’ll stay on…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Weatherman Exposed(A Feline Inquiry into Atmospheric Fraud) The cat sits before the telly,tail curled like suspicionas a man in a nice jacket points at a mapcovered in swirls and damp-looking arrows. “This man,” the cat begins,“calls himself a weatherman.Yet the rain continues.The wind howls like cousin Ralph,and my patio is wet.” The Old Woman…
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