3It really was quite shameful. Christine refused to bend to the beady-eyed will of a feline, but with each month that passed within their country home, it was proceeding to be rather difficult to loathe the presumptuous, preening female.
Madame Ayesha Margarethe, the fourth, was a witty creature, who had the yowl of the most unmusical nature. So much so, that when Christine first saw her husband with a sopping wet cloak, lingering rather nervously in the doorway of their home, she thought he'd gone mad and brought a babe back for whom to foster her affection.
But, to her dismay, the rather ubiquitous creature that was cradled in his hands, had two of the most beautifully pleading eyes she'd ever seen. Apart from her husband's. From one look at the quivering lump of fur, she knew that they had, at last, a new member of the family. With a graceful shake of her head she took the sodden creature, while behind her, her husband gleefully hung his cloak upon the stand to dry.
It was his duty to appease the cat, she told him explicitly that he would care for it himself – but after seeing the way he strived so hard to brush the kitten with the tenderness it deserved, Christine's heart began to thaw at the intruder. She'd enjoyed the roof with just the two of them underneath, but she saw that while small, it was large enough for another stray to join. What was another to do when one was without a home?
Admittedly, it had taken her time to get used to the new presence throughout dinner; Ayesha winding around her skirts, letting out long petulant moans of disapproval, was enough to make Christine shut the cat outside of the room. She was strict on not letting Ayesha wile her way into their dinner. The feline would simply have to eat the salmon, cod and tough meat off their meal that Erik provided. Still, it was hardly possible to keep Erik from passing Ayesha scraps from his plate; the man was sly at handling cards, let alone tiny pieces of food. Christine had very little chance to prevent it if a wayward piece found itself upon the carpet.
It was at least easier in the mornings; when Erik would slip from bed and find inspiration in the dawn, Ayesha would also find herself a new plate of food.
At first the feline was not one to sit on laps; their legs were thankfully spared from that duty. That was until Ayesha knew about the fireplace, and how beautifully delightful it was to be spread on warm reclining humans, with the heat of the fire before her. And to Christine's dismay, Ayesha would spring onto Erik with a look in her eyes that didn't drift far from the word smug.
There was something poetic, however, in the way Erik's hands would curl into the being, the length of her coat being followed, down and down again. His endearments would be both charming and amused, and it was hard then, to follow the little curl of jealousy at the feline sprawled on top of her husband.
It was harder to silence the thought of: if only I were that size.
Of course, Ayesha enjoyed the countryside, spending the days outside. Often until a few minutes remained before they blew out the candles, the cat would waltz in, yowling for an overdue dinner – as if she'd been playing hide and seek for hours and she had been there all the time.
The little accessories that began to appear into the corners of the house amused Christine. Erik, hardly the outright sentimental type, would proffer new cushions, each one ordained with a different tassel, as if the cat would know which one had been purposely bought for them to lie upon. Still, the amount of pleasure when Ayesha would offhandedly be caught in one, Erik would pass by that room with a silent fancy until the feline departed for greener, less fabricated pastures.
Still, it was more the moments Christine caught when it was merely Ayesha and him, lavishing hours upon that piano, that brought fondness to a higher plane. Ayesha often lay on the patch of red silk layered on the top, curled up as creamy hairs whispered into the air, tail swishing gently against the curve of the instrument. There was a soft, content look in those slitted eyes, the vibrations humming beneath most likely the source of contentment. And Erik's dancing hands upon the keys, his eyes turned to his little muse, eyes upon the cat as if it were more than just a treasure to bestow.
The cat had become more than a stray in need of a home, than a lost gem waiting to be found. It was a life, that lived and loved – like himself.
Christine didn't have the heart to disturb them. She smiled as she turned away. It wasn't due to jealousy that had plagued her. It was fear, perhaps, a small fear of loosing his love.
On the veranda, two steps that led way into a swathe of grass, Christine watched. The sun crept over the horizon, blossoming the field into a golden crown.
She found herself basking in the warmth.
She remembered the same sight before their wedding day, the fluttery jitter that seemed to come from the trees and surround her, but then the relinquishing ease the waxy sky gave when it set. The strange thing about love, was that it grew.
XXX
Hello everyone! I had a spare moment (and I mean a moment I scraped and pushed away every other commitment I had), in order to wax poetic about a cat and their two adorable, loving owners.
I really like afternoons. I just don't often get inspired to write during them. And actually have the ability to do so! Writing = self-care? Right? XD
I have always felt curious of Erik having a cat. I think it works so well, and yet it totally changes the dynamic. Cats are well – cats… And having one affects your life in so many different ways!
This one is definitely a dynamic that makes me inspired. Christine working out what love means in different ways is so much fun!
The name Magarethe was inspired by the German Soprano Opera singer, Magarethe Carl (stage name as Margarethe Bernbrunn), who was lived from 1788-1861! likely with Erik having known of her if he ever travelled to Munich when he was a lad.
Anyway, I hope you're having a nice February. ^^
Your humble author,
Enigma
P.S this is in honour of my cat – specifically one who once loved to lie in front of the fire –, a different one who complains a lot and is totally floofy, and another who enjoys food.