Tag Archives: cat

Speckles

Anna had been walking for hours looking for Speckles; she found her little white and black spotted kitten missing when she came home from a night at her best friend’s art gallery opening, and even though she was exhausted and not entirely dressed for roaming the streets searching for her beloved pet,  she had no choice. The big bad city was no place for a defenseless (and declawed) feline friend. Plus, she didn’t exactly live in the nicest neighborhood.

Her feet were dragging a few hours later, her voice hoarse, calling out for Speckles. It was past three in the morning and she’d given up hope. Her voice no longer carried very far and her expensive shoes were becoming soaked in blood thanks to the cuts they’d dug into her heel. That’s when she saw the Coca-Cola statue for the third time and decided it was over. A tear rolled down her cheek as she scratched out the cat’s name once more in the hope of hearing a mew returned to her.

“Speckles…”

Photograph by Christina Molholm whose work can be seen here.

 

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Shards

She walked in and after a quick hug hello I asked. I just had to. I couldn’t wait another minute since the discovery I made while she was at work.

“So I was cleaning under the sink today,” as her eyes widen. “And I found a few broken mugs and a bowl.” I pause to see if she reacts. Besides the larger-than-usual look in her eyes and a tinge of obvious guilt, nothing. “Know anything about them?”

She walks past me and heads for the stairs.

“Hello?”

She turns and stomps back towards me.

“What.”

“Did you put them there?”

“Nope.”

“You didn’t?”

“No.”  Straight faced.

“Really?”

“No, I didn’t.”

We live alone, besides our cat.

“So, what, the cat broke some mugs and a plate and hid them under the sink?”

Nothing.

“Maybe I should be having this conversation with the cat?”

Still nothing. She looks away. I can’t let this go, not because I had any real emotional attachment to the kitchenware, but because I have to understand why someone who was well over the age of ten would hide something she broke.

“Why did you hide them?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then who did?”

“I dunno.” This is the girl I chose?

This is easily the weirdest thing she’s done. I can’t figure it out.

“Could you please, please tell me why you stuffed them under the sink?  I mean, if you didn’t want me to find out, why hide them?  Why not just throw them out?”

She looks away again like a scolded child.

“So you didn’t do it. You didn’t break these.”

“No,” but this time in a low voice.

“Okay then. I guess it will remain a mystery.”

“Yup.” She walked back up the stairs.

I dropped the shards into the trash as I heard the shower turn on.