BY JAN HAAG

TEXTILE ART + MUSIC + POETRY + ESSAYS + TRAVEL + FICTION + INTRODUCTION

KAT BLACK

for

Kat Murphy

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.

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 little,

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.

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 belly.