She looked at him. He had all the time in the world.
An Important Question
“Which one would you send?” Edith asked.
The cat touched her glasses.
“Not those.”
He touched them again, catching one end of the cord with a paw. Edith lifted the glasses from his reach and pushed them back up her nose.
On the table lay three photographs, an envelope, and a small card with nothing written inside. Her niece had called that morning. She was coming to visit and had asked whether Edith still had any pictures of the old garden.
“I’ll send you one,” Edith had promised.
Now she held up the first photograph for the cat. It showed the garden gate, freshly painted and very blue.
He looked at the corner of the photograph. Then he looked at Edith.
“A possibility,” she said.
His Choice
The second picture showed the whole garden. Edith remembered standing beside the photographer, asking him to make sure he included the rose bush.
He had included the washing line too. A large sheet crossed the background like a white sail.
“I’d forgotten about that.”
The cat rose from her lap and put one paw on the photograph.
“You like this one?”
He moved the paw. The corner lifted, and he watched it fall.
Edith lifted it again. He caught it before it reached the table.
“That may not be a vote.”
She slid the picture free and offered him the third. It showed a little girl beside a crooked row of flowerpots. The girl was holding an empty watering can and looking over her shoulder.
Edith’s niece.
The cat leaned forward until his long whiskers brushed the picture. Edith held it steady, expecting another paw.
Instead, he stepped over it and settled on the place she had just cleared in her lap.
“Very decisive,” she said.
The Photograph
Edith kept the third picture in her hand. There was something about the watering can she couldn’t quite remember.
Her niece had been small enough then to need both hands around its handle. Edith had filled it only a little, so she could carry it from the tap to the pots.
And there it was: the niece had watered every pot carefully, including one that held no plant at all.
Edith had pointed it out. The little girl had looked at the empty soil, thought for a moment, and fetched more water.
When asked why, she had explained that something might be waiting underneath.
Edith smiled at the photograph. She had nearly chosen the one with the blue gate because it showed the house more clearly. The picture in her hand showed a smaller part of the garden, but it brought back that whole afternoon.
The cat shifted against her cardigan. His fur was warm against her wrist. Edith scratched beneath his chin, and a low purr began.
“Do you remember any of that?” she asked.
He closed his eyes.
“You weren’t there. That’s probably why.”
Room for Both
Edith opened the card and began to write. The cat watched her pen, then settled his chin on her forearm.
She wrote about the empty pot and the extra journey to the tap. She added that she could no longer remember whether anything had grown in it.
Her pen paused.
“Perhaps she will.”
The cat’s tail moved across the other two photographs. She lifted it gently and slipped the blue gate picture into the envelope as well.
“There. The garden and the gardener.”
She placed the picture of her niece beside it. Before she could close the envelope, the cat put a paw on its flap.
“That’s ours?”
He pressed down. The envelope stayed open.
Edith looked at him over her glasses. His amber eyes met hers, and his paw remained where it was.
“We can finish in a minute.”
She rested her hand on his back. After a while, he moved his paw and tucked it beneath himself. Edith closed the envelope without disturbing him.
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