Category: Old Woman With No Cat
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat on Time(Or: Why Clocks Are Just Decorative Anxiety) The cat sits before the mantelpiece,one paw raised toward the clockas if delivering a closing argumentin a case he has already won. “Consider,” he begins,“the clock.A round face.Two hands.Constant ticking.And for what?To tell you it’s 3:47when your stomach knowsit is now.Now, Old Woman.Now is the…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat and The Ants(Or: A Game of Tag with the Very Small) The cat is sprawled on the warm stone patio,one paw extended,ears forward,watching tiny black specksscurry across the surfacelike a secret on legs. “They run,” he whispers to the Old Woman,“and then they hide.And then they come back.And then they run again.It’s like…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Claims Lindisfarne Monastery(Or: A Feline Descent into Nordic Grandeur) The Old Woman relaxes in her armchair,eyes half-closed,as Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungenswells through the room.Gods and giants,rhinemaidens and riddles,a musical earthquakeof splendid and silly. The cat sits on the rug,ears twitching,tail conducting the kettle drums,and somewhere between Siegfried’s horn calland the descent into…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Fallen Branch(Or: A Feline Inquiry into Loss and Limbs) The Old Woman comes in from the garden,arms scratched,breathing slightly hard,dragging the last of a great branchto the burn pile. The cat watches from the windowsill,head tilted. “Old Woman,” he says,“that branch was large.It was attached to the tree.For years.It grew there.It knew the tree.It…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Keyboard Chaise Lounge(Or: A Feline Declaration of Workspace Sovereignty) The cat is stretched across the keyboard,full length,tail draped over the escape key,one paw resting softly on the space bar,as if he owns it, which, in his mind, he does. The Old Woman peers over the top of her knitting,needles paused,skepticism etched in her forehead.…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Birthday Surprise(Or: A Cat’s Guide to Celebrating Humans) The Old Woman wakes to find the kitchen transformed.Streamers (chewed, slightly).Balloons (deflated, mostly).And the cat, perched on the table,wearing a paper crown he clearly made himself(it says “KING KNUT” with a drawingof a sardine where the jewel should be). “Happy birthday,” he announces.“I have planned everything.You…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Afternoon Philosophy The cat watches the Old Woman layer pickle on ham then cheese on a slice of bread, “Think of a sunbeam as a door,” begins the cat, “Step into it.You are gold.Warm.You are exactly where you should be. Then it moves.The door closes.You are you again, slightly chilled,slightly wronged. This is…
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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…
