Cat's Cradle

Amora was whining so I picked her up. ‘I know, I know,’ I said. ‘I also need a break.’

I sat down with her next to the ironing board and let her adjust herself on my knees. I stroked her soft fur and thought of how one day she wouldn’t be here anymore. I have photos and videos which I’ll be able to return to and remember how she was, from the day she arrived in our home with her brother Paçoca – tiny and two months old – to God knows when they depart from here…

Then I thought of the birds she kills sometimes. Do those birds belong to societies that miss them? Do they leave behind hatchlings wondering why they disappeared? I saw in my mind’s eye an auburn-coloured bird, tilting its head to the side with curiosity.

We heard a commotion next door, in the dining room. Amora sprinted off my lap. I stood up and went to investigate. The floor was covered with feathers and Paçoca stood above a bird in its death throes.