She had pottered around the garden for so long that her cat was complaining.
It was passed its dinnertime and the meows were growing louder by the minute. It was careering into her ankles every chance it got. This could be painful. Its owner considered just how hard the cat’s skull had to be to inflict the buffeting she was receiving. This was just another example that made her regret giving it the name Angelica. It just didn’t fit. She was clearing things away and avoiding contact with it wherever possible. Finally she was at the back door and about to go in when she, the cat, tried to rush passed her. The woman lost her balance momentarily and trying to save her fall kicked the door frame, hard. She screamed out in pain and it made her eyes water.
The cat, now inside, didn’t react in any way. Just sat next to its bowl waiting to be fed. Its owner stood in the doorway for a moment, looking down at her shoe. She was holding it off the floor to avoid putting pressure on it. It felt as though something was broken. She hobbled in and made it to a chair. The cat meowed.
“You’ll just have to wait,” she said, slowly removing her shoe. Wincing, she pulled off her sock. The cat meowed again. There were already signs of discolouration around three of her toes, but she could just about move them.
The cat howled even louder.
The woman slumped. “You don’t seem to realise,” she said, almost in tears now, “I could have broken bones, or something worse… a lot worse!”
The cat looked at the bowl and back again. After a moment of just staring, it lifted its chin and meowed.
The woman closed her eyes and mumbled, “You couldn’t care less, could you? I feed you and take care of you and what do I get… apathy!”
The cat lowered its head into the empty bowl, sniffed at it, looked up and meowed.