The Seven Steps to Closure by Donna Joy Usher

backed into the lounge, searching the shadows for an intruder. When I was sure there was no-one in the flat I sat on the couch to think. Princess meowed and made her way over to me. She was limping. Concerned I picked her up and found a small shard of glass in her front right foot. ‘Oh poor baby,’ I cooed, as I pulled it out.
    I started to examine her whole body and found another cut on her head. Perplexed I examined the wound. The foot I could understand, she had jumped up onto the bed to sleep and stepped on the broken glass. But her head? Well that was another matter.
    I thought about it for a while as I raided my first aid kit for betadine and band aids and then stopped as a possible cause for the broken glass occurred to me.
    No, surely not.
    I walked back to the bedroom with Princess and looked at the height from the bed to the print. It was doable, but why?
    I rang Mum.
    ‘Yes Mum, I think she jumped up and broke the glass on the print above my bed with her head?’ I said a few minutes later.
    ‘That’s ridiculous Tara. Why on earth would she do that?’
    ‘I don’t know Mum, you tell me – you’re the one that rescued her.’
    ‘No sane animal would do something like that,’ she said.
    ‘That’s what I’m worried about.’
    ‘Maybe she hated the print.’
    ‘Mother!’
    ‘Well it is a bit weird. All those swirls and dots.’
    ‘It’s contemporary art,’ I replied coldly.
    ‘It couldn’t have been her.’
    ‘Well Mum, if she didn’t do it then someone broke into my apartment and did it. I’m actually not sure which one of those options I would prefer. Look, I’ve got to go and clean up the mess. Can you just ask one of the vets from work about it? Thanks, love you.’ I blew kisses down the phone and hung up. Princess was watching me with her big, innocent blue eyes. ‘Don’t you dare say anything,’ I warned her.
    Wearily I started to clean the glass off the doona. In the end I carried the whole thing into the laundry and shook it very carefully out into the tub before putting it on to wash. As I was heading in to remake the bed my phone rang. I sighed – so much for my nice long nap.
    It was my sister, Lily. ‘I hear you’ve got a psycho cat.’
    ‘Good news travels fast I see.’
    ‘I hope she doesn’t try to smother you.’
    ‘What?’ I asked in alarm, thinking about the chest sitting incident.
    ‘Well some cats have been known to try and smother newborn babies whom they see as competition. Seeing as yours is such a nut she might try to smother you.’
    ‘Cut it out Lily,’ I complained. ‘It’s bad enough imagining her jumping up to break the glass.’
    ‘I wonder how many goes it took her?’
    ‘I don’t want to even think about it.’
    ‘All right, so when do I get to see your new hairdo?’
    ‘What are you up to tomorrow?’
    ‘Well, I’m free up until lunch time, and then I have to have Rose at ballet at 2.30pm and then Lotus does tap at 3.00pm. Then I drop Petunia at Wing Chun by 3.30pm, which thankfully goes for 2 hours, so it gives me time to drop Tulip and Blossom off at gymnastics. Then I pick them all up again and feed them dinner.’
    ‘They do all that on a Sunday?’
    ‘No, Saturday.’
    ‘Lil,’ I tried to break the bad news gently, ‘today is Saturday.’
    There was about ten seconds of deafening silence on the other end of the phone and then all hell broke loose.
    ‘Rose,’ she shrieked down the phone. I winced and moved the receiver away from my ear. ‘Lotus, get your stuff ready. I want you in the car in 5 minutes.’
    I checked my watch. It was 2.20pm.
    ‘Martin, Martin. Oh damn it, where is he?’
    ‘Japan?’ I suggested helpfully.
    There was a slight pause on the other end of the phone and then, very softly, she uttered some expletives that the girls were definitely not meant to hear.
    ‘Gotta go,’ she finally said. ‘This placenta brain thing really sucks. Brunch tomorrow?’
    ‘Sounds good. I’ll bring the food. See you