(no subject)
The Spare Cat has been back for a visit this week. On Sunday night, The Woman got up to let in the cat which was crying and picking at the flyscreen on the front verandah - but there was nothing there. On Monday night, I woke up to the double thump of a cat landing on the verandah, so I got up (at rude o’clock in the morning) to let in Starr. I opened the screen door, with the dim light from the street coming in, and a dark shape slipped through the door into the bedroom. I looked around, but there was no cat on the bed. No Starr. Only the little black shape that slipped through the door and was seen no more.
Over the last two or three weeks I’ve seen that little black shape moving, in the periphery, and when I turn to it, it’s gone. It’s been a year on Wednesday that the Spare Cat died. And now, true confessions, it was my car that ran him over. I’d put him out the back before we went to the theatre, and by the time we’d got in the car, he must have run around the front, hoping to get inside again. As I reversed out the driveway, in the dark, I felt a thump and stopped - but there was nothing there. Two days later I found him, just a few feet away in the bushes. Poor little cat. I miss him terribly.
Over the last two or three weeks I’ve seen that little black shape moving, in the periphery, and when I turn to it, it’s gone. It’s been a year on Wednesday that the Spare Cat died. And now, true confessions, it was my car that ran him over. I’d put him out the back before we went to the theatre, and by the time we’d got in the car, he must have run around the front, hoping to get inside again. As I reversed out the driveway, in the dark, I felt a thump and stopped - but there was nothing there. Two days later I found him, just a few feet away in the bushes. Poor little cat. I miss him terribly.