The Cat


A young mum and her two children came into the shop one afternoon.  She  asked for The Magic Rocking Chair but her son wanted Lord of the Rings. She gave a small scream because she found instead The Magic Faraway Tree and then gave another scream as she remembered that the other book was actually The Magic Wishing Chair and that both of these books were by Enid Blyton. Her two small children gazed upon her, he with Lord of the Rings in his small hands and his smaller sister with a Thea Stilton. The children then went whispering under the table to begin their reading. Other customers stepped around their protruding feet.

The mother called down to her son that maybe Lord of the Rings might be too big for now. He said patiently that he was just pretending. Then he came out and over to the window, he wrestled a volume of Hans Christian Anderson from the sill, and as he did, he toppled the wooden cat that sits there. He was appalled. His sister came up behind his devastated back and said: oh a cat!

They looked backwards toward their mother but she was unavailable, she was kneeling down and gently turning the pages of a volume of Pippi Longstocking…she was reading out loud to herself.

Suddenly the boy reached out with both arms and pushed the cat back upright, where it sat perfectly again. Brother and sister looked at each other, smiling, relieved, delighted.


2 thoughts on “The Cat

  1. This is really sweet. Books – you never get sick of them. Except bad ones. Btw I never liked Henry Miller, I guess because I don’t like his personality as it comes across in his books. But maybe I shouldn’t judge his literary works by that:)


    1. I think that it is perfectly ok to trust your own judgement., perhaps the only way. Sometimes we come back to books we once didn’t like or put books away that were once favourites. Who knows what is at work the whole time, selecting or rejecting and renewing itself every time we read something. Just trust it.


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