Dreaming the World

A damp, still, chilly day, foggy and gloomy; we are promised sun later. We need the rain as it has been dry, the constant wind taking all the moisture from the soil. Yesterday we had doors and windows open. This morning the heat is on. Looking across the field I see that our neighbour’s azalais are in bloom.

For whatever reason I awoke this morning thinking about a cat.

In the small town where we used to live there was, for a while, a marvellous café. It was situated on the corner of two streets that were busy off and on throughout the day, and where some people drove too fast. (I once saw a car run the stoplight at considerable speed and strike an ambulance that was crossing the intersection on its way to the hospital.) This café was a few blocks from the college where we worked and also on the way to our office, and was the kind of place where regulars came most mornings for coffee and pastry, and maybe coddled eggs, and where there was the kind of small place intimacy that encouraged new friendships.

After opening, the café quickly became a meeting place for artists, poets, and musicians, and an ideal spot for non-critical staff meetings. The coffee was good and the food excellent; we still have a copy of their cookbook on our shelf.

The café had large, wrap around windows with good sightlines from all of the tables. Just outside, there were was a four way cross walk on a timer. Fairly often we would see the same cat, standing at the cross walk waiting for the light to change, even if there was no traffic. When the walk sign came on, the cat would look around, and if the way were clear, cross the street. At first we all thought this was happening by chance, but we quickly realized the cat knew exactly what it was doing, and watching it became a sort of shared ritual. Even though the cat was very careful, I never quite stopped fretting that the cat would be hit.

One morning we arrived at the café to discover a sign on the door stating that the café had closed. We later discovered that the owner had gotten tired of being up at 3:30 each morning and despite offers of help from her staff and the community, had decided to chuck the business. She also decided to divorce her husband, who had just completed med school, which was as shocking as the café closure. She reportedly said she simply wanted a new life.

Soon afterward a new café opened in that space but lacked the warmth and community feel we all had grown to treasure. That café lasted but the gaping absence in the community remained. I have no idea what happened to the former owner or the cat.