I thought my last cat had died. She didn't come back one night. It happened just a week after I found my second cat on the side of the road, no life left in her. I've had three cats in the past year and all had vanished. Once that third cat had been gone a week, I swore off cats. Dogs might be more my style out here in the wilderness. Owls' Knob can be a dangerous place.
Then, the cat came back. I stroked her soft fur and thought of how tricky death can be: taking our loved ones without notice and sometimes returning them, just before the point of no return. She meows differently now, as if her voice is hoarse. I wonder what happened to her out there with the coyotes, bears, and owls. What went through her head when she bolted? What did she think of as she returned?
- Roslyn Imrie
- I am a mother, a teacher, and a nature lover. I grew up on a mountain we called Owls' Knob in the Ozarks of Arkansas. The first seven years of my life were spent living in a log cabin, far from a store or streetlight, without electricity or running water and after twenty years of travel, I returned to the abondoned homestead. Now I live on a hill by a small lake and work at a public garden. These are stories about nature written from a women deeply influenced by place.