Cat’s Paw
She woke up with a craving and the day went downhill from there. All through the breakfast ritual, something nagged at her yet refused to be identified. Instead it lurked in the pit of her stomach and sent out sneaky waves whenever she was concentrating and filled her full of want.
By lunchtime she was jittery enough to stomp all the way to the park, spread her arms wide and turn a circle beneath the sun. ‘Okay, tell me.’
meow
I seem to be stuck in Year of the Cat… felines are turning up in every series and I’m not even a cat person. Oh, I like the idea of them but my ideal cat is sleek and sinuous and cynical, the kind of cat Lord Goring would be. Yet the felines I encounter (rarely) are overflowing oozing beasts.
Friday being the 13th do you think I could find a black cat in my imagination? No. He’s green and curly as alfalfa and is in fact from the land of Sal … so he’s a Salad cat, name of Crouton. I looked up from my book – the second Dexter – and there he was hovering in the vicinity of my left eye. He wouldn’t go away until I wrote him down.
Right. Done. But Crouton was such a communicative cat that he had a lot in common with the cats terrorising the village by asking questions all the time. It was a Rogue Mapping partial featuring Lee Dervani and Holly H Kincaid; now it’s almost complete. What I’ll do with it then remains to be seen. Hopefully, the cats will fade away for a while, or at least long enough I can stop worrying I have an inner Crazy Cat Lady.
