Black cat and lemongrass

Sometimes I come across Wallington in a place I don’t expect her to be. It startles me.

‘You’re there’ I say aloud, as if I’m letting her know where she is on the spinning planet.

‘I’m saved! Can you pour me a glass of wine?’

Generally she is reading a book on a couch with gravity holding her down. Now and then she’s floating on the ceiling but no-one likes a show off.

Somewhere overhead the International Space Station rotates the Russians but that doesn’t startle me anymore. It’s more or less a merry-go-round without the horses or the swans, but with Russians.

Out cat Eve is more predictable. Wherever the sun shines she is. She has figured out the universe and like a good architect she knows where the sun will be at any time of any day.

The photograph is her at the end of a warm day in Sydney. I’m calling it ‘black cat and lemongrass’. A pain in the lemongrass, really, because I was cooking chicken on the BBQ and I had to step over her every time on the way down and the way up. Apparently this annoyed her. She meowed every time I approached.

OK – I have stepped on her in the past but that’s been when she’s been a black cat in the dark. On the stairs. An accident waiting to happen. Surely by now she can see things from a human perspective?

Eve is 16 years old. She’s been with us since we bought our house here in Sydney. She is lovely and furry beyond words.

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