72 Your Cat November 2017short^
story
Carol reminds us that we can learn a lot from our cats,
in this fi ctional short story by Victoria Cornwall.
Purrfect life l essons
C
arol peeped over her
easel. Mr Darcy was
sitting on the fence
again, in the shade of
her neighbour’s magnolia tree.
She decided to ignore
him and returned her
attention to her painting.
With a delicate dab of her
brush, she added a touch
of pink to the magnolia
blooms. Although Mr Darcy
was handsome, she had no
intention of adding him. She
wanted her painting to be
a cat-free zone.
“Mr Darcy is back.”
Carol glanced at her niece
who was sitting beside her,
attempting a painting of
her own.
“Yes, I had noticed,” she
replied with a smile. “But let’s
not encourage him.”
Grace’s eyes widened.
“Don’t you like cats,
Auntie Carol?”
“It’s not that.” Carol tilted
her head to one side to study
her painting, but couldn’t help
her eyes wandering to Mr
Darcy as he gracefully walkedalong the top of the fence.
“In fact, I have had lots of cats
in my life, and each one has
taught me something.”
Grace put down her brush
and turned in her chair. “Tell
me about them.”
Carol selected a new colour
from her palette. “Well, my
first cat was called Blackie.”
“What was she like?”
Carol thought for a moment.
“She always seemed old,
with a low-hanging tummy
and fur the colour of coal.
Hence her unimaginative
name, I’m afraid.”
Dear Blackie. An old soul
who provided a comforting
backdrop to her infant years,
when time stretched and
weeks seemed like months.
Blackie was a cat of routine,
who was too serious to play
and too lazy to get into
trouble. Suddenly, one day,she was gone. Carol’s mother
had told her she had gone to
Cat Heaven.
“What did Blackie
teach you, Auntie Carol?”
asked Grace.
Carol smiled. “Blackie
taught me that nothing
stays the same. That is quite
a lesson to learn when you
are very young.”
Mr Darcy landed silently
on her side of the fence and
began to saunter towards
them through the newly
mown grass.
“Then there was Josie. She
was a silver blue tabby. I chose
her from a litter of six,” Carol
chuckled, “or rather, she chose
me. She was very special.”
Dear Josie. She had
watched her grow, from
a small, clumsy kitten with
soft, needle-sharp claws, to
the elegant cat she became.Josie was her confidante and
the keeper of her secrets, her
purr the soothing balm to her
teenage anxieties. Then, one
day, she disappeared.
“What did Josie teach you?”
asked Grace.
“She taught me about the
true meaning of friendship,
and how we are stronger with
someone on our side than we
are on our own.”
Mr Darcy arrived,
confident in his ability to
charm. He rubbed himself
against the legs of their chairs,
snaking and turning with
ease. Grace giggled, but Carol
refused to be drawn to his
feline charisma.
“Then there was Lawrence,
my ginger cat. I inherited him
when I first left home. A friend
was moving and could not
take him with her.”
Dear Lawrence. He had
hijacked her busy, single life
and turned it upside down.
No more spur-of-the-moment
holidays or overnight stays
— Lawrence’s needs came
first. A cat flap deformed“Josie was her confidante and the keeper
of her secrets, her purr the soothing balm
to her teenage anxieties.”
Illustration: Emma Thrussell.72-73 YC Short Story CS AM RA EW.indd 72 29/09/2017 12:14