Tattered Tuesday’s Vegetarian World!
Woke up to find that my Tuesday had crashed down inside its chasm of bad feelings and could not get up again! I tasted the blackened toasts of terror inside the lining of my soul and gave in to its venom. Fed the cats their cat food and felt even more glum if that was possible. Why does cat food look so ghastly? Said my tormented Tuesday. Perhaps because I am a vegetarian? Replied my better self trying to get up.
This malignant Tuesday snarled “cat food looks like a mound of corpses! Still refusing to pick itself up from the mounting trash can
Of crushed hopes and calamities, this tainted, tottering torn Tuesday forgot to treat me to coffee which would surely have helped. But it allowed me to feed the cats their gruesome depressingly soggy breakfast and then tumbled into the garden to compost all the kitchen waste.
For some reason it always managed to do this, whether it was a surly Sunday, a matted Monday, a tense Tuesday, or a woeful Wednesday, a trashy Thursday, a feral Friday or a sickening Saturday!
Then this worrisome Tuesday sank into the sofa and binge watched a haunting documentary (The Keepers) about a young, bright, shining Nun who had been murdered when she was investigating the chilling abuse of boys and girls by the Catholic church’s henchmen aided by the police of Baltimore. Hardly a good choice for a Tuesday in such disarray! And yet, surprisingly, it began to rouse itself out of the carcass of itself enough to finish some potato salad, fried rice and soup.
Then it made itself do the most painful necessary chore of all – bring back fresh fish for the cats! The grey tabby and the ginger and white one had begun to whine over the grey and grim greyish cat food that felt like it had been retrieved from a world war two camp!
The fish market is a place that every day of the week rebells against! Miserable Monday, twisted Tuesday, wizened Wednesday, thundering Thursday, frightened Friday, sinking Saturday and slimy Sunday begins to wish and pray again for that suddenly new wondrous day when the entire world turned vegetarian! So every day can be free from having to stumble upon those tiny, terrifying, horrendous little cages trussed up with small chicken and bigger birds, dull, depressed, awaiting the axe and that weirdly hungering human army waiting for their small bodies.
This Tuesday even begins to imagine a fresh new diet for the cats! Bread and milk from those good old days! Rice and yoghurt, bread and butter?!
Then after enduring all those merciless blood spattered carcasses, feathers, bones and bestial ghouls at the fish market, Tuesday collects its own shopping of fresh fish kindly chopped up by the fishmonger, and drags itself back home with despair clawing at its one hand and dread licking up the other!
But it hadn’t been a totally despicable Tuesday, scarfing up potato chips and ice cream and chocolates and worse, buttery desserts. The horrors of those ‘saintly’ Catholic bestial priests and cops, had already scoffed at my petty problems. The courage and unending strength of all those women trying to make the Catholic Church clean up its act, and give them justice, was healing too. Reminding me of many more such whining days when underneath the piercing petticoats of regret, remorse or grief, lay the hidden pocket of the diary of displacement and the small, grave, bracelet of grace it was already burnishing with bravery.
As I scuffed my toes in the rain soaked muddy road nearing my gate, that horrid, hungering hope of that Vegetarian World fell out of my sodden Tuesday’s still soggy soul! And even as I told this pathetic dream not to be so stupid, I found that the garden gate had been overpowered (in the month that I had been away on holiday) with a huge giant’s dressing gown buttoned up with tiny white flowers from the remnants of some kind of batty bliss begging this tormented Tuesday to behave itself, wash its face like the cats were washing theirs, after thankfully gobbling up the mackerel and thanking the world for not yet turning vegetarian!