Understanding Toasters - May 28, 2021
Margarite’s cat Morris arrives at the backdoor with a newborn rabbit, broken-necked and still alive, and drops it at my feet. It blinks and looks up at me. A single bloody tricklet runs meekly down my one hand that lifts the rabbit’s head. Purring with a sashay while gliding under my other arm, Morris wants a scratch and then I wonder about the tolerant psychology of fingers that run so affectionately through the fur of a bobbing murdering machine and the bloodless movements of my own claws and teeth that have made kills of a different but no less painful kind. And how I needed strokes of assurance after that and that it probably would be easier to understand how toasters work rather than the quirks of killers and the wounds to their souls.