Her name was Kat Black, and the way she felt about it, she might
have come from outer space. She was too old to remember the time
at the belly, though, no doubt, having been a kitten once, there
had been a time at the belly.
But then she arrived by the scruff of the neck, falling through a flower
garden, onto a doorstep.
Sometimes, in a blue mood, a red mood or a white hot mood, Yes! white hot
in lust for her mistress' hand that petted her belly, "Ah, who could" --
Kat Black thought -- "resist my soft belly?"
They tried to train her to be vegetarian, but she preferred strawberries.
She became a fruititarian,
and nurtured the wild grapes of her wrath.
There were other cats there -- wherever there was -- big and
purple, blue and green.
But Kat Black sat alone on the seashore, changing her stripes in the
sunset, longing, longing...
One evening, while Kat Black was out swimming, Little Cat jumped in
too -- into the sea -- and the tides rolled in and the tides rolled
out and the fishes swam underneath.
Rescue! Rescue! was all Kat Black thought of as the great trees on the
shore became twigs. But Little Cat kept meuwing, swimming -- and laughing.
Then there was a great lapse in memory and Kat Black woke up in paradise
-- wild with flowers and fresh with trees -- purring.
But she remained a divided cat. Should she miss her past? Enjoy
the flowers? And where was Little Cat!
She rolled on her side and a great hand stroked her
Copyright © 2000 through 2015 by Jan Haag
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Jan Haag may be reached via e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org
SHEBA, a cat story
21st CENTURY ART, C.E.-B.C., A Context