Days of a Cat

7. August 2019 – Text & Photo original by Diana


It is evening, and a cool breeze blows, which causes me goosebumps. I sit on the steps in front of my house, looking to the sky, which slowly covers with clouds. A storm is forecasted.

It’s so quiet tonight, actually every night. Every now and then a car passes on the street. I live in town. And yet it is so peaceful. In this quietness, I meditate on the meaning of life, its joys and struggle, its complexity and simplicity.

It’s so peaceful. Still in the city, and yet far from the madness of the city.

Yes, we have mouses around our house. Living by the forest, in our yard haunts many small animals: small, brown mice, hedgehogs, frogs and even blindworms. The blindworms are very shy. I see them quite often in my garden, but they vanish in a second when you do not look at them. I meet them also when I take a walk in the woods. Sometimes on the footpath or on the paved road, they curl in vain trying to advance, being too shiny. Then, the merciful myself comes and helps them, to get across the street, like I would help some old ladies, and get into the grass.

The crickets rattle back in the garden, in the distance I hear the rare ding dong of a bell. It’s getting late, and the cat spins and licks around me, hoping for something to eat. Eh, but you don’t know, it’s not my cat! It’s the neighbours! Still, she stays all day long in our backyard, under the bushes, playing in the garden or merely resting on the terrace, away from the dog monsters that occupy her own backyard. 

They call her Dolly. Dolly? After the appearance, I could sware she is a tomcat. And it seems offensive to call her Dolly! Tell me, is this appropriate? So I renamed it. I call her Nasty, my boy, Listerina. He, my boy, being more sensitive, talks about her by saying Pi-si-cutza (Kitty-Kitty). I think that’s more ironic. But, you know, cats don’t even care about names. When I whistle her or call Tzi-Tzi, she’s coming rapidly. Although she’s a spoiled city cat, (we are not gratifying her with special cats food but with food from our dish), she even catches mouses.

So “our” moody kitty cat performs, in front of us, when night falls, with mice, to prove us how good is she, that she deserves our kindness to be bowed upon her. … And really it worth! And when she plays in the grass chasing after butterflies and flies, Pi-si-cu-tza is quite funny and cute. 

Well, I must also tell you that she is a good cat and goes home at night, only to come next morning again to take her place on the terrace, or when it is hot, under the bushes in the garden. I’m so glad! It’s the best cat, the neighbours’ cat!

P.S. Can imagine, last night after I finished this story, what do you think I have found in the house, near the terrace door? A frog! Yes, yes, right inside the room! Would I have materialized it with the power of the pencil? Sorry, I mean laptop keys!