Category: Old Woman With No Cat
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Birthday Grievance(Or: A Feline Case for Cake) The cat sits on the windowsill,nose pressed to glass,watching the boy across the streetrun through a garden of balloons,bunting,and what appears to bea very large cake. His tail twitches.His ears flatten. “Old Woman,” he says,without turning,“why have I never had a birthday party?Why has my existencenot been…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Reads Proudhon (Or: An Anarchist’s Dilemma at the Window) The cat is sprawled across a stack of borrowed philosophy, “What Is Property” One paw rests on a particularly underlined passage:“Property is theft!” “Finally,” the mutters cat,“a human who understands.” He looks around the room:at the cushion he’s claimed,at the sunbeam he’s monopolised,at the…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Grimalkin(Or: A Philosophical Pause Before Sardines) The old woman holds her head in her hands,as if gravity might roll away with it. The cat looks out the window,places one paw delicately against the glasslike a tiny, furry philosophercontemplating the infinite. “Look, Old Woman,” he says,“it’s autumn.It’s too early to be…
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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…
