The Quarrel

By

Pieter Mayer

  Quarrels are odd. They really don't start, do they? One just suddenly finds oneself in the

midst of a quarrel that's probably been ongoing. Let me explain. I'd been standing in the kitchen drying the dishes that Margaret had placed in the rack... just trying to keep up, Margaret being a speedy washer and all. We were chatting about little things. Work probably. No, it was about the cats. Minnie, in this case.

Minnie had been having severe sneezing fits for about a week. It concerned us. She was an old cat who was getting a bit phlegmy, especially when she climbed stairs, which she did whenever we did, to show off her wheeze and get our attention.

At least I think that's what she wanted.

If I recall correctly, Margaret, in the middle of nothing at all, asked me, "Bill, did you call Tagamatsu about Minnie?" Our vet was Japanese. A nice old gentleman, if a little hard to understand at times, but very kind to Margaret and me and the cats.

"Bill?"

"Hmm?" I put a plate in the cupboard.

"Tagamatsu, did you call him?"

"About what dear?" You hear what I'm doing? I'm giving Margaret a bit of a schmooze on this one - I'm trying to portray myself as being slightly addled, but good-natured and harmless at the same time.

It wasn't the first time I'd had to do that.

"Bill?"

"I called him," I lied. She'd asked me to. I'd forgotten.

We went on washing and drying and talking about stuff that I hoped wouldn't stir things up, like the garden, which I don't have much to do with, except to smell and admire the flowers she picks

That went okay.

I mentioned a book I was reading that I felt she'd like and then, when the dishes were completely washed and dried, she said, "Bill."

Again.

I knew I was done for. "What, sweetheart?"

She took the dishtowel out of my hands and laid it on the counter, then folded her arms across her chest, "You didn't talk to Tagamatsu did you?"

Then I folded my arms across my chest and said, "I... was just about to."

Margaret turned and walked out of the kitchen and called back over her shoulder, "So then, you have not called him, have you?" She was purring, snarling actually, a little like Eartha Kitt.

I followed tight on her heels, "Doesn't 'just about to call him' count?" I loved the way Margaret switched from "haven't" to "have not" when she wanted to sound stern and make a point.

"Bill, you infuriate me, really infuriate me, you forget everything, absolutely everything."

"Not everything dear, just the important things."

"Very funny"

"It was wasn't it?"

Minnie nervously circled between my legs, nearly tripped me up, as a matter of fact. Then she looked at me with her sad rheumy eyes and sneezed. She followed that up with a ghastly, strangulated, sucking sort of a sound.

I shook my head.

I told Margaret the cat should be on oxygen.

"Ha, ha, Bill, the cat's practically terminal and you're making jokes. Look at the poor thing, she's ready to fall down dead or go into a coma at the very least."

I sat in the lounger in front of the TV and patted my lap. Minnie looked at her feet, shifted positions several times, yowled once, got a running-start and tried to leap into my lap. She managed to sink her claws into my knee as she slid back down to the floor. It was my turn to yowl.

Margaret glowered at me, and turned on the TV.

LOUD.

"I'll call him tomorrow," I yelled.

Margaret turned up the volume on "American Idol". She knows I hate the show.

She returned the yell. "YEAH. RIGHT!"

The other cat, Kaboodle, who'd been hanging back, sauntered into the room and ogled me. She looked disgusted. I settled back into my chair, picked up Minnie and stroked her. I told her how sorry I was she was sick. I whispered it into her ear so Margaret couldn't hear and call me a hypocrite.

Simon Cowel said something that sounded like "You're really horrible, I mean, revolting," and a tone-deaf man in a dirty T-shirt left the screen, his lower lip all a-tremble.

The audience screamed with delight.

Margaret sighed, then turned down the volume a few decibels. She thumbed her nose at me. I thumbed back. I was off the hook again.

And very relieved.

The end