Way Of The Cat
291 Words
A portrait stands in the entrance to the Muford home.
It is a rare occurrence for the brothers, showcasing such a thing.
A fair lady is depicted in her best dress, hands politely folded in her lap, looking off to the left of the frame. We see only her profile, but we know she is quite stunning. Upon her lap is a solid white mass of fur, its tail wrapped about itself, yellow-green eyes staring at the onlooker in a way that the lady does not.
That self-same lady now lies in her bedroom, fair hands folded upon her chest. A chest that is still and no longer breathes. But upon it lies a cat, curled within the cradle of her arms. A cat that has spent many a year with the lady.
Said cat softly purrs to itself, tail slowly flicking. It naps in that not-entirely sleeping way that cats do. It does not seem to notice its lady's body has gone still and is growing cold. Instead, it seems just as content to continue to catnap where it is, whether or not its mistress is dead, because it is a cat, and this is as cats do. Find a comfortable place to sleep, no matter the occasion.
Its eyes occasionally open to observe a subtle change in its surroundings. The sound of a fly as it enters the room, scenting death. The settling of the wood of the old house. The brothers have left the lady to lie in their guilt and passion, but eventually they will come again to look at the lady.
Until then, the cat naps.
Not even death can disturb the way of the cat. For it is cat. And it is as cats do.
- Writer
