at the cat's house
the apartment was nicer than hers, and no roommates. a low yellow bed & a minimalist linen couch. an orchid in the kitchen window. it didn’t smell like the little black cat she was there to catsit.1
a half-overripe avocado on the counter. she ate the good half with canned sardines, the good half of the cucumber, the seed-oil free bottled green goddess dressing, some kalamatas, some goat cheese. help yourself, rini had said. lavender epsom salts in the bathroom. i have to live in a certain way.
the cat was as needy as a bpd gf, scratching at any closed door, endlessly requiring affection, drooling when she stroked its short, neat fur. she fell asleep with her hand on it. then it was leading her down a pathway on the moon to a walled garden, a big hand was unlocking the gate to let her in, she could hear the key click—
—but that was real. footsteps. how did she get to the bedroom door so fast? her hand trembled on the privacy lock, she just managed the fiddly turnbutton as she felt the resistance of a hand twisting the other side of the doorknob.
“sweetie…” the voice attached to the hand said it softly at first; again, less softly. then the doorknob rattled violently. she jumped back. a bottle crashed to the floor. spoiled chanel no 5: now the room smelled like cat piss & stale champagne. “was that you or the cat?” he paused for an answer but she was still unsure of her play. “goddammit, locking the door on me—”
“go away!”
“so you are alive in there.” the relief in his voice wasn’t what she expected. “i don’t know what i did, rini, but that’s just not fair, the last time i came here to a locked door— and when i got in it looked like you were just sleeping—”
“rini’s not here. i’m just the catsitter.”
“she’s gone? for how long? with who?” when she didn’t answer he started on the doorknob again. then pounded the door. the cat was yowling & weaving between her feet and was the man kicking the door? but he tired himself out. “not everyone is as nice as me. when you’re sleeping in a strange place you had better know exactly who pays for the key.”
after all this the cat was badly wound up. she demanded pets & then bit her hand & then demanded pets again. in fact the cat refused to sleep or to let her sleep until she brought out the cat stroller & pushed it sleepily around the open floor plan kitchen/living/room/dining room, waiting to hear a snore.
one of those somewhat neurotic little kitties, under stress she would worry obsessively at a patch of skin, making horrible small snuffling gurgles as she licked herself raw