More of Sharples recollections.
The night before the party she had hung out her new dress ready. The baptism she called it. The dress had taken her several shopping trips to find. She had delighted in showing me the pale blue silk she had finally chosen. Twirling around the room like a young dancer, the fabric lighting up eyes. I understood how perfect the day must be.
For a few weeks I had felt her excitement. I’d sat on the stool in the kitchen watching her decorate the cake with delicate white sugar lace. I had watched her as her daughter handed her the little bundle as she cooed with delight before I snoozed in front of the fire. Kittens did not interest me but I loved seeing her smile.
After the party she had sat with me on her lap, telling me how the kitten was the only one her daughter would have as she was ill and needed treatment. I felt her deep sadness and touched the wetness on her cheeks with my paw. These were the times I wished I could speak human, but I am Sharples and I am only a cat.
© JG Farmer 2014