Coe Review

I'll be right to bed.
Well?
Well?
Can you get out of the way so I can pee?
Here's the difference between dogs and cats. You die alone in your house
and, assuming nobody finds you, a dog will eventually starve to death. Same
thing happens with somebody who owns a cat and the cat will eat you to
survive. This was what Maxine once told her while the two of them were
remolding her friend's bathroom.
Maxine then shared a story about her sister who lived in New England
with three small children. They had a sick cat. Her sister took the cat to the
vet and by a freak accident, the cat died. The office called asking if they should
dispose of the body, but she knew that she needed to bring the cat home so that
her children could say goodbye. They really loved this cat. The only problem
was that after they had the ceremony, they couldn't bury the cat because it
was winter and the ground was frozen. They decided to put it in the freezer
so that they could bury it in the summer. The summer came and went, they
forgot about the cat and then Maxine showed up the next Christmas. One
early afternoon her sister called her from work and asked her to go out into
the freezer in the garage to get some meat for the meal they'd be having that
night. By accident, Maxine took the cat out of the freezer, wrapped as it was
in wax paper, and left it to thaw in the kitchen sink.
Later I told the children that since the cat would have no qualms about
eating us, we should have no qualms about eating the cat.
Darla stopped sanding the floorboards to look over at her friend.
I'm only joking, Maxine said. I threw it out with the garbage before the
kids got home from school.
They mostly manage a peaceful coexistence, though if truth be told, there
was that one time when the cat got too close to the open dryer as Darla was
throwing clothes inside. How simple it was then just to toss her in and turn
it on for a moment or two. After the dryer episode, the cat caught a mouse
and hid it in the toe cup of one of Darla's slippers. But conflict like this is
rare. On most days, the cat moves back and forth to her dish and Darla to the
litter box with a plastic scoop. On nicer afternoons, Darla sometimes works
out in the yard, bending over the front flowerbeds up next to the house as
gracefully as a whale, an Orca wearing stretch pants.
But always, as reward for her labor—her soiled fingerprints and clubbing
side aches—she can count on happy aimless meanders along florescent aisles,
cans and bottles and boxes smiling down upon her, bestowing blessings.
S. Asher Sund 83