Category: The Old Woman with No Cat
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The Old Woman With No Cat
Maybe Later (Or Curses for Neighbours) Part One: The InvasionThe cat sits on the windowsill,tail rigid,ears flat,watching the moving vandisgorge strangers into his territory …the house that was once his,before the vowel-less traitorsfled to Bwlchgwyn, Wales,thinking he wouldn’t find them. “Fools,” he mutters.“I am cat.I am eternal.I am territory.” The Old Woman sips her tea.“They’ve…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and Cat-Alchemy the cat stands on its hind legs at dawn,paws deep in the flour bin,whisking chaos into a sort-of roux, “observe,” it intones,as three eggshells levitateand the toaster hums. the old woman watches,arms crossed,coffee steaming a fog:“that’s not how physics works,” she says. the cat flicks its tail,a spatula, somehow —and…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Heron in the Birdbath (An Almost Diplomatic Incident) The heron has arrived.A tall, grey-blue silencestanding knee-deep in the birdbath… like a librarian who’s forgottenwhy she entered the reading room. THE OLD WOMAN’S VIEW:“How majestic. How serene.A living sculpture,a breath of wildin our overgrown garden.”She reaches for her sketchpad,her tea going cold. THE CAT’S VIEW…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Conquers EuroVision(Or: A Feline Bid for Continental Glory) The cat sits before the TV,tail curled in concentration,watching a man in sequinssing something unidentifiablewhile a woman in a flying saucerplays the violin —or possibly weeps.It’s hard to tell. “Old Woman,” he says,“what is this Eurovisionand what is a Bulgaria?Is that a fish?Can we buy…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat and the Sardine Campaign(Or: This is How a Cat Conquers a Tin of Sardines, Miss Violet 😂) The cat sits in the middle of the kitchen floor,a tin of French sardines clutched between his paws. The good kind.The lemony kind. The kind the Old Woman hides on the top shelfbehind the oatmeal. He…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Vertical Oppression(Or: Why the Good Stuff Is Always on the Top Shelf) The cat stands before the pantry,face like grievance,gazing up at the top shelfwhere the good sardinesgleam like a golden fleece. “Explain,” he says,“why the best fishare alwaysout of reach. Not impossible.Not mythical.Simply…up there. This is not accident.This is architecture.Oppression.” The Old…
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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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