My neighbour is the type of kind old great-grandma everybody wishes they had as a neighbour. In fact she’s been the one good thing about living in this house. Well into her late eighties, she still lives by herself. She’s always got a kind word, or a handful of cookies, or a word of encouragement… even when you know she’s upset. Her loveability quotient is further proven by the undying devotion of her cat Ebony who really should have been named Shadow (because of the way she follows Theresa around) but either way you can guess the colour by now. Ebony was a kitten only two or three years ago, but already seems bonded to Theresa the way Whipper is bonded to me. After years of skiddishness, Ebony only let me near her once she realized I was Theresa’s friend.
Theresa isn’t well. She went to the hospital with horrible gastrointestinal pain a few days ago. They pumped her full of morphine and sent her home. I think she’s been back to the hospital twice since then. The weird thing is… the spooky thing… is… Ebony is a “local” cat. She was born on the street around here when Theresa took her in. If you walk through my neighbourhood you can spot all of her relatives. They all share the same oddly brilliant black coat, and have the same distinctive bone structure. Ever since Theresa got sick, “the family” has been around here in droves. I’m not exaggerating. Her brothers and sisters are rarely if ever seen on our shared back yard, but in the past three days our property has been flooded with black cats coming and going.
It’s almost as if they know something. I sure hope they’re wrong.
Pray for my neighbour. My friend, Theresa.
Addendum: The most recent word is that they found a tumour on her intestine which they have already removed. She is doing well for the moment.
Leave a Reply