week four: the atcay-atchingcay* saga

summer 2018


My grandparents have a cat who they call Grandma Cat. While she might be old enough to be called “Grandma,” she does something that very few grandmothers do: she has an obscene amount of babies. Like clockwork, each autumn and spring, her belly swells and shrinks as new cats are brought into the world.

This wouldn’t be an issue, except that this cat is wily and old enough to know every trick in the book when it comes to hiding kittens. Instead of having her children in the cat house next to our old white house or in the woodpile across the yard, she buries them in the hay, conceals them under the old house next door, or buries herself under the weights in the weight house.