Bohemia Village Voice

[From ‘Bohemian Bagatelle‘, published 1979 by the Bohemians]

THE CAT & I

After the dinner-hour, and when my children have gone about their business, I am alone with the cat. At such a time I love the cat whole-heartedly because she does not chatter, and cannot record all passing impressions by means of complex sound.

I begin to wash up the crockery, and the cat sits beside me on the kitchen chair. She is utterly calm. Now, think I, I shall have peace, and silence. But I am wrong. I have lived too far from silence for too long to be able to evoke her so easily. And now my thoughts begin to jabber endlessly, and to hold mystic and meaningless conversations among themselves, invariably using the English language for this purpose, so that I cannot avoid noticing their strange arguments.

I speak aloud to the cat, to overcome the voices.

“Misa,” I say, “You are a dirty cat. You drag your dinner all over the floor. Why do I give you a plate?”

The cat looks at me kindly, but my thoughts answer me back immediately, impishly masquerading as cat.

“Fancy asking ME!” they say, – “You’re the only one who knows the answer to that.”

“Misa,” I say next, (“Be quiet, you imps!”)

“You had better go to the boudoir in disgrace.”

The cat ignores this suggestion, but a little while later, without evident cause, she slides gracefully away and settles herself in the cupboard under the dresser; and sleeps at once, as I can never do. Perhaps this is because she does not aspire overmuch, and so has retained the key to the blessed world of silence.

Marjorie Cole