1985 School Magazine

CAT

Old Man lived in a house on a hill, th e type on stilts and full of stairs. It rose up from a tangled snarl of a garden, unkempt and growing as it wished. At work the lads called him "the lonely old beggar" and laughed. But he wasn't lonely. He had Cat. Cat was his Queen, his Love, his Companion of the Evenings. Yet in spite of these titles her name was simply Cat, because nothing else suited all her moods. She could be more serpent than feline, snaking after the sunlight on a rug. Other times she was utterly feminine, stretching and revelling in her beauty. Out in the graden she was a huntress, savage and wild. Anger at a trespasser could send her body rigid, as it possessed by a demon. She spent her days presiding over her territory and finding new dens in th e scrub, but the nights she spent with Old Man. They had an armchair each and Old Man would read while Cat talked silen tl y with invisible visitors. But their domestic harmony was disrupted, an interloper had appeared on their doors tep. Old Man had met at work a certain Mrs Windsor, a widow. After much fervent gazing and formal circling, the two had often gone out, to a restaurant or a theatre. Old Man kept his secret from Cat as long as possible, but she had of course found out when he started to prepare for Mrs Windsor's visit. Any upset in their usual domestic routine unsettled Cat and she crouched miserable, under the table, as Old Man did the extra dusting and cooking Mrs Windsor's visit dictated. The evening got off to a good start. Mrs Windsor looked exotic in a well- filled caftan and was cha rmed by the house, "even though it has so many stairs." Dinner went down very well with a wonderful roast and a glass or two of good red wine. Cat refused to touch the scraps. She sat underneath a coffee table while the others took the armchairs. jealousy tinged her green eyes. "Oh ]ames, you have a cat. What's her name?" "Cat." "Cat? That's a silly name. Come here, Puss. Come on. Puss, Puss." Cat retreated further, sending daggers from her eyes. Puss! Her pride was injured. As Mrs Windsor bent down, Cat spat and flexed her claws. Old Man started, "Pu . .. Cat! How dare you! Shame!" She'd never heard a harsh word from him and she scarcely knew what to do. But she picked up her tail and stepped out of the house, into the jungle outside. Inside, her aura still burned ... It took a while for them to adjust after the wedding. Suddenly the house had visitors and james discussed his step-grandchildren with the lads at work. The new Mrs Butler declared it unnecessary that she work and spent her time doing the local Meals on Wheels and gardening. The jungle was removed, cu t down to make way for neat flower beds. Cat was named, and learnt not to sleep on the armchairs if Mrs Butler was around. It was better to stay out of her way as Cat unsettled her with her habit of sta ring. "Talking to demons," Mrs Butler called it. Cat and the stairs were her two main complaints. One afternoon Mrs Butler was fussing up and down the house, vacu uming and polishing. Cat took advantage of her absence in the living room and lay stretched out on her old armchair, soaking up the sun. A thousand sounds buzzed about her, but they were outside and pleasantly muffled. She closed her eyes against th e light and drowsed amongst the plump pillows. Suddenly she was grabbed and flung across the room. Eyes wide she scrambled, screaming in the air before hitting the ground, luckily on all fours. Pressed into a corner she stared at Mrs Butler, her eyes mirrors. "You nasty thing, sleeping on the couch. You shouldn't even be in the house. Go on- Out! Stop staring, out!" Mrs Butler hesitated. The cat unnerved her. The hatred and jealousy in those eyes was too much to come from one little animal. "Go on, out. Stop looking at me. Out!" The command was a plea now as she retreated, keeping her eyes on Cat. She couldn't look away. "You demon." she stepped back again. Th e Hoover was behind her. Cat stared. She didn't blink, as she showed the terrified tiny woman her own anger. "No." Mrs Butler stepped back ... and fell, over the Hoover and down the stairs. She screamed as she rolled, her body hitting sharp ly each cold stair. Her cries cut short at the end of the flight.

HIGHSCHOOL

New school New friends New faces . . New clothes New feelings New places ..

A smorgasbord of subjects A kaleidoscope of classrooms Tardiloquence of teachers:

astammerandastutter, amumbleandamutter, achatterandaprattle, asnuffleandasplutter ... " QUIT THE MOTHERS ' MEETINGS, GIRLS!"

Upstairs downstairs, downstairs upstairs, Rush, push ... hustle bustle ... cram, jam A claustrophobic clutter in the corridors. Shouldered down by: baggy blouses - bulky blazers. Envious of battered brims BRANDED By Washable Squashable Uncreasable Unshrinkable Childish blunt cloth hats:

Too new, Too blue! Lugging thuggish schoolbags - Mugging passengers " WHADDAYA COT IN THIS BAG? BRICKS? " New Life. Hardships of a Grade Eight.

Erica Fryberg

Cat climbed into her old armchair, eyes half closed as she waited for Old Man.

Belinda Mitchell llW

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