Maud

 

April 4, 2022

Something was keeping me from writing. Not from the ability to do it, but from the desire. Whatever that was went away today, and I have churned out many paragraphs. The material is new, to be sewn into an old story. 

I went to G’s Facebook page today. It has not been taken down, and speaks of happier times.

The strangeness of the souls we live with! Since she came to live with me, Maud has pursued a pattern of claiming one space after another as her own, dwelling there almost exclusively, then moving on to the next one without a look back. Sometimes she’s hidden; sometimes she’s in plain sight. It’s only a real problem is when it’s at the far corner of the study, at the highest place in the house, when the litterbox is too remote and she adapts a corner of the floor for that purpose. Now she’s in the tenth or eleventh rotation of the TV stand, wedged in the little slot behind the cable box and the DVD player. Before that it was buried in my winter coat on the guest bed. Before that it was on the chair looking out the front window. Sometimes it’s in the bathroom cupboard, shut in her cave like a puma.