Category: The Old Woman with No Cat
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The St Malo Sardine Incident(Or: A Feline Foreign Policy) The Old Woman stands at the counter in St. Malo,a case of sardines in lemony oiltucked under her arm,her wallet slightly lighter,her heart slightly french. The shopkeeper smiles.“A good choice, madame. For a special occasion?” She thinks of the cat,not hers, never hers,waiting on the windowsill,tail…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Nocturnal Quest (Or: a brief romance in three acts) ACT I: THE EXIT“Don’t wait up, old woman,” he purrs,tail held high like a banner of mischief.“I have… errands.Of a personal nature.Involves a wicked womanand a well-stocked pantry.” ACT II: THE RETURNDawn finds him back on the windowsill,whiskers tipped with cream,a single sardine tin…
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The Old Woman With No Cat (part 1)
The For Sale Sign (Part 1) (A Cat’s Crisis of Convenience) The cat sits on the Old Woman’s fence,tail twitching like rhythmic panic. “Do you see that?” he hisses, eyes wide as saucers.“A sign.A literal sign.Your neighbours are selling my secondary residence.” The Old Woman sips her tea.“It’s their house, cat.Not yours.” “Semantics!I have a…
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The Old Woman With No Cat (Part 2)
THE SEAGULL DEBACLE (Part 2)(A Lesson in Avian Betrayal & Feline Accounting) The seagull —whose name is Keithand whose morals are negotiable agrees to the terms: One dramatic dive,one defaced sign,one endless chip buffet. He swoops.He squawks.He… misses. The S in “FOR SALE” now bears a chalky, dubious streak.It reads: “FOR ALE.” The cat stares.“You…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
Where is the Old Woman?” …the cat demands,pacing the length of the kitchen,tail held high like a sceptre of injustice. “She is late.My bowl is half-empty.My sunbeam is un-warmed.This is negligence.” The crow, from the fence, offers:“Perhaps she’s writing poetry?”The cat scoffs.“Poetry doesn’t fill stomachs.” “No shit!” agrees the robin. Just then—the back door opens.There…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The First Crocus (Or: How to Philosophise a Flower) The Old Woman kneels in the still-cold soil,points to a brave spear of yellow poking through frost and forgotten leaves,“Look,” she whispers.“Spring.” The cat pads over,sniffs delicately …then draws back as if offended by hope. “Hmm.A small, yellow invader.Uninvited.Asserting itself.” She smiles.“It’s a flower, not a…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
A Cupful of Moon The old woman with no catdigs where the crow dropped her house key,a hole just moonbeam-wide,neatly spooned between two failuresof courgettes. Her spade hits porcelain.Not bone.Not root.A teacup …a drowned saint,half-sunk in the drought-starved clay,glazed in sorrow and stained by Earl Grey. The crack in its sidesings in a language of…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Studies Tai Chi(Or: The Slow-Motion Pounce) The Old Woman finds himin the middle of the sitting room rug,moving with a slowness usually reservedfor glaciers or drying paint. One paw lifts,hovers,descends—as if placing it on the very heartbeat of the earth. “What,” she asks,“are you doing?” He does not look up.“Tai Chi walking.It is…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Delivers Wisdom in Small, Reusable Jars The old woman stirs her teawith a cinnamon stickthat once doubled as a wand,then tucks itinto her apron pocket,right beside a raisinthat gave up being lunch. She says philosophy can fiton the head of a pin,but you’ll have to squint. Rule 4. Be a blossom.Roots are…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman’s Wisdom Delivery Service The old woman stirs her morning tea,and tucks a bit of this too shall passinto her apron pocket,next to a stray raisinthat might be hopeor might be breakfast. Her entire philosophycould fit on the head of a pin,(if the pin was slightly bent)and smelled faintly of orange marmaladeand mothballs.…
It's Still Life 