I know I’ve been away several days now. Some know that running motif in my life that as the Black Cat I have lived by and know all too well. That is, the Black Cat returns. No, I’m not referring to that time, that year, when I returned home to my ancestral place, Salem, Massachusetts. I won’t now go into that story.
What I’m telling you now is that when I returned from where I was, I was greeted by this farm stench coming from the plump mouse I had had my claws drive a hole in his head some time ago. I don’t now remember exactly how I caught him that day, but I do remember I had left him hanging on my kitchen wall, frameless.
As I walked passed by him, I studied his short gulps of breath. He tried for air. Those pale pink, tiny paws, still waving hopelessly found my attentiveness. “Look at you,” I said to him.
Black Cat Words 