Feeding the Cat

Once, when I was six, we had a well from which our poor neighbors would
get their water. The well’s water was deep and crystal clear. It so
happened that our well for that day was full of fishes. There had been
a flood, and when it subsided, the fishes remained trapped in it.

Once, we had a cat that my mother called “Cathy.” One day, Cathy was hungry.

So I asked the cat, are you hungry?

The cat said, “Meow!”

I nodded; that probably meant yes.

So I asked the cat, “Do you want to eat now?”

The cat said, “Meow!”

I nodded; that probably meant yes, too.

So I asked the cat, “Do you want to eat fish?

The cat said, “Meow! Meow!”

I nodded sagaciously; that probably meant, Yes! Yes!

I smiled at the cat; and patted her furry head.

Then I shoved the cat into the well.

I heard a deep splash.

She shrieked, “Meowrrr!”

I assumed it meant, “Thanks!” So I shouted into the well, “You’re welcome!”

I’m not sure if Cathy enjoyed the fish; I never saw her again.

***
This is part of an ongoing "saga" of my "war" against small animals. For similar posts, see:

                                                                              

Destroying the Beautiful

                                                                              

Trouble with the Debutante

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