Cornelis Visscher, The Large Cat, 1657

I used to tell my cat, Wolfgang, all of my secrets.

We would go outside and sit under a tree on a bench that wasps tried to nest behind in an old wooden fence post that had been strangled to death by Ivy at some point in my house’s short suburban life.

Wolfie would let me put my lips to his ear, the one on the left side of his face and when I think he found something funny in what I said he would twitch it and it would tickle my nose.

His ear didn’t twitch a lot, but when it did I would lift my face away from his head and look around the yard and when I was sure no one else was there, I would take a breath and continue.

One day I said, ” no it’s really true and it is not funny-”

Then I heard my husband say ” what isn’t funny. ”

He must have come through the house and snuck up on us. He was always doing that to me and Wolfie when we were chatting.

Wolfie jumped out of my arms and landed with a hard thud on the bench next to me. His ears were flat against his head. He whipped his tail around his body and the end of it twitched- or maybe it’s more accurate to say it quivered.

” Did I interrupt something? my husband said with a laugh. ” It looks like you guys were having a pretty intense conversation there. You two do that a lot.”

He tried to keep his voice light and happy.

He failed.

I sat there with my hands knotted in my lap. I looked up. ” We do what a lot. ”

” Sit out here and tell secrets. ” his voice had a little edge to it. ” to your cat. I’ll bet you talk to him more then you do to me.” his laugh was forced and sounded hallow.

Just then his phone rang in his pocket and he reached into it, took it out and looked at it. ” It’s the Office. ” he babbled. ” I have to get it. ” he tried to not run to the other side of the yard, But of course he did. When he got there he kept his back to us.

Wolfie stepped back into my lap. He lifted his head up to my lips and his ear rested against my chin.

I heard my husband say loudly so that I could hear” No. No. I can’t make it to the meeting because- ” his voice lowered.

I whispered into Wolfgang’s ear, ” He can’t because you’re here. ”

Wolfie’s ear twitched against my lips and nose and I finished what I had been telling Wolfie before my Husband had so rudely interrupted us. ” When the Cat’s Away, the mice do play, but I think it’s much better to poison the little bastard so that the Cat doesn’t have to hang around the house all of the time. What do you think?”

Wolfe turned his face up towards me and he closed his eyes the way cats do when they are very, very happy.

Then we both looked towards the other side of the yard where my husband was and purred.

RDP Monday: APPARENT

If I were to wander around aimlessly without a map or Google Earth to guide me, I’ll  bet I would find an abandoned house with a rusted iron gate wrapped around it like one of those pinch collars you put on a dog to try to control it because-

you can’t managed it when it gets out of control and it won’t heel unless you yank on it hard enough to take it’s breath away.

I’ll know there are houses like that, haunted and abandoned houses just waiting for you to come up to it’s gate preferably at night and it’s just waiting for you to try to master it-

it really wants you to try.

So it might swing it’s gate open just wide enough to let you in.

Apparently this house that  wouldn’t show up on a Map or Google Earth ( not that I would know because I wouldn’t have those things on me, remember? ) Just wants to be friends and if it doesn’t there is that fence to remind me that there is a line between it and me and that I can cross back over it anytime I want.

So sorry House, I would say to it, if I were to run across it one day- I don’t think I’ll be visiting you anytime soon.

But I might just stand across the road from you and see who does.

As you and I know, someone always will because-

you are just an old rotten house with a chain around it’s neck and if you cause any trouble someone can just yank on it really hard and make you heel.

I think that’s pretty funny thinking too, 

my haunted and abandoned friend.

RDP THURSDAY: MYRIAD

Do you know that in some

morgues and embalming rooms

there is a chair next to the door.

It’s always a sturdy chair that won’t slide across the tiled floor easily.

The chair is there for people who come in

to fall on or use for support if they feel faint

because  these rooms will steal the air from your lungs

with no warning at all and nobody wants to end up face down on a morgue floor.

There are so many stories like this one

just waiting to be told, but they are hard to listen to

and sometimes when you hear them you might wish you had that chair

next to the door that doesn’t slide across a tiled  floor easily.