Posted: Jun 18, 08 9:04pm
Nah, ain't the next chapter about Maze and Dopey.
Painting of an Old Woman
Stiffly clumping across the thunking hardwood, she crushed her shoulder into the jamb and added another bruise to an already artfully colored collection of dings, cuts, bruises, liver spots and hemangiomas. There wasn't enough Porcelaina on the planet. The floor was heavily carpeted in shredded paper and tattered nylon trouser socks and kitties of dog hair. Bending was almost impossible, surely more effort than the mess was worth. Maybe not. The maid had quit in despair, claiming a nervous breakdown.
The cat had long since learned that ankle weaving was a hobby best left behind it, much like climbing curtains or catching flies on the fly. They were both too old. He roosted as high as his aging hips would allow him to leap, out of the way of belly blinded feet and swinging cane. That it kept him out of range for the swaybacked dog was bonita flakes on kibble.
The dog refused to cave to advancing age, blithely pretending to hunt old toys under scraps of newsprint and whining bitterly when the leap to the counter resulted in a knocked head underneath it. There was still great pleasure to be had in purloined catfood tins and in sucking the toes of secreted socks. That she rarely caught the cat anymore was of no consequence; she didn't want him, anyway.
The ragged remains of his robe still hung on the back of the bathroom door and his razor gathered dust in the toothbrush holder. He wasn't getting older but she really wasn't ready to join him yet. Had to wait on the cat and the dog. Her grandson would take the cat, were she ashes to ashes, but no one wanted the dog. Too noisy, too destructive. Too hairy. Being left behind to tend the tail ends of their affairs gave her purpose but felt empty none the less.
The bed was too large, there were too many dishes in the cupboards, too many unopened jars in the cabinet. Her son was going to get over his grief with rare speed once he began clearing up the detris of her life. Every box of old shoes, every bag of expired groceries would chase one tear away with muttered curses. She really should get started on it now, call the garbage company and get a container in the yard. Tomorrow, maybe.
This minute, she needed a nap. The dog and cat already snored and whistled, talking in their sleep.
