Short Stories


“Pi?” I call out into the sunlight. Normally he is inside waiting for a stroke before he goes to bed. He is a typical cat and hunts in the night, sleeping all day. “Pi!” I scream his name.

lilly 2Still there is no answering meow. He is a very vocal cat. When he was thrown into our vegetable patch we only found him because of the noise. He didn’t shut up, not until I caught him and filled his belly. He is in a mood with me at the moment though. I have another cat, an elderly black one, and I noticed the other day that she wasn’t eating. A quick look in her mouth revealed teeth that had worn away to nothing. She has the front ones but that is all. So during the next shop I got her a senior food. I suppose it’s about time. I mean, she must be at least fifteen years old.

But in Pi’s eyes this preferential treatment is not a good thing. He thinks that the senior food is the best thing ever, even though to my eyes it looks like a lumpy soup with congealed gravy. At least he is polite. Yesterday he waited until she had her fill and then finished off her food and then his own. The only problem with that is she is a slow eater. She usually goes back for more. But separating the cats is not a solution, they hate it, almost as much as they hate each other. A paradox.

Well, I can’t hang around here. The vegetables need picking, it is that time of year again. Smiling I reach for my basket. It’s one of those shopping baskets that hark back to a time forgotten. Well, almost, you see I made it. I went on a course at the local conservation center and learnt how to make willow baskets and now, three years on, the basket is still in use and still fine. I haven’t needed to fix it or worry about it. Everyday in the summer and autumn it goes down the the plot and comes back stuffed full of cauliflowers and beetroot, lettuce and peas. It never complains and although every year, I check the weave, it is always fine.

As I trundle through the orchard I can’t help but smile at the fruit. It is the first year that we have all the trees giving us something. They all started out as very young trees, sticks really, and now they reach up into the sky laden with leaves. Some must be easily twelve foot tall. The gooseberries are covered as well, and my pride and joy, the blueberry bush. Most said that it wouldn’t grow, but it has and is now four foot high and almost that in diameter.

I stop and sigh. Yesterday my nephew was down and he had asked for a picnic. Mum and obliged but it looks like the beach towel got left out. There is now a large dog lying in the middle of it. Meg opens an eye, but seeing it is me, closes it again. Then I see Pi.

He is lying next to Meg, his body stretched along hers. Guess he won’t be needing that cuddle today then. I smile and carry on with my basket. Shopping needs to be done, which in our house means harvesting. Just another normal day.

This post is true and was inspired by the daily prompt – an odd trio.

7 thoughts on “Normalcy

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