Inevitably, every morning as I pass on my way to the bus, Mrs. Oswald is outside in her curlers and night clothes.
“Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Here kitty.”
“Morning, Mrs.Oswald. Saemus giving you a hard time?” I’ll ask her.
And she will answer, “Aye! He’s tommin’ it up again, no doubt. Just like a man.”
I asked her one day, merely in making conversation mind you, what exactly she meant by that, ‘just like a man’.
“You shouldn’t ask me that! Why, you’re nearly a man! Too soon you’ll be gettin’ away with it yerself. Cattin’ about all night, with any pussy that’ll have ye. Lying about all day, sleepin’ it off. Lived through thirty-six years a that with me Harry. Never knew a moments peace. Wonderin’ ever night where he was. Waitin’ for ‘imself till all hours. Till the night.. He didn’t… A’tall…”
She left off her story there. Drew her terry robe up tight and pulled herself woundedly up the stairs by the hand rail, leaving the screen door to slam itself closed behind her.
Although I’d never mention it, I decided that day that Mrs.Oswald must have loved her Harry, very much.
I think that is why she keeps herself in cats. If one fails to come home, she can easily get herself another.
Not so with a man. At least not one- with whom a woman is truly in love..
This piece came to me based on the three phrases offered by the OLWG #27 prompt. The phrases were:
- get away with it
- Here kitty, kitty, kitty
- You shouldn’t ask me that