They hop and skip across the lawn whilst the cat watches on. There is something that tells them that she will not strike. The cat, also black, just watches the display, just out of reach. These days everything is out of reach; an uncaring car saw to that.
I let her out this morning so that she could sample the spring air. She’s moving better now, but I have a feeling that the imprint of the accident is there to stay. There’ll be no more hunting, no raiding parties, no strutting nor sprinting. So this morning sees her sitting there sampling the air, watching the dance of two blackbirds and remembering.
I’m sitting here watching and remembering also.