The cat blinked.

To imply the word "facade" means cultural control. It means the ball of twine is tangled and dirty, and the culture wants to blame the cat for the abhorrent mess. The cats of the world are the most obvious blame, aren't they? So let the yod, or the finger of God, squarely point at the stereotype, the cat! The weak, the coward, choose not the internal journey of teasing out the dried leaves, spider webs, mud, and/or excrement from thyself, lest of all straightening the string. "NO," says the hive mind, readying to wreck havoc, snubbing the obvious to yell, "How long is a string?" Yes, in wisdom, the cat must individuate, as the other, and set the chessboard to entertain and stall, the competative, mobbing crowd!

You know, cats are said to be fifth dimensional creatures, the observers, the magicians of the world. They sleep above the third dimension of material world heavy, yet pulse and see all. If you pat their light-filled bodies, for instance, one can see people like the dodgy Mediums cold calling on those who lost a loved one. They hear, the doing safe repetition of "love and light" whose scanning the circular sun tan on finger to reveal a removed wedding ring and the secretive internet search to gain nitty gritty details of the deceased! They yawn at the diehard, jumping the fragile client to ignite emotional disclosure and how they compound their powerful controlling gift with the words "mental health" to solidify the ectoplasm from sky-to-wallet.

Fortunately, I have a cat. My life had been a train wreck before her. I had shifted home to a small flat with commodities included like a orange spray painted bar fridge, three seater lounge, a tiny television, wooden bedframe and a clean mattress but sunken in the centre. It was right, beggars cant be choosers right? I had also lost a few bags off the back of the trailer, which I did not tie down, that included cosmetic jewellery, a 1950s Catholic angel statute I called my "work angel", my essential oils, paint brushes, and paints. It was a sad and expensive loss lessened by Karen (yes, that's her name) of course who liked the butter off her feet.

Karen was found about six months before i moved to this new flat. I remember that blessed synchronised day clearly, I had trouble finding a carpark at McDonald's due to the Ipswich Cup- a local horse race nearby. I totally forgot about the event. The drive-thru was packed. I drove near cloisters of suits of evening dresses, of high heels, of dull perfume and after shave scents drifted thru the rolled down windows and the next parking yard of squashed, anxious cars nearly deterred me from my hunger for a cheap, hot meal. I kept turning the steering wheel, and my left hand unconsciously changed the gears from second-to-first and back again. Finally, I found a space near a smelly, fly ridden dumpster. I smiled to myself, " probably not suitable for that class, ahh but beggars can't be choosers right?"

I placed the order and enjoyed the air conditioning during a long wait for food. Exiting, I bit into the fishburger without removing the gherkins. My car keys were shorted when they fell in the toilet at a gas station and I fished them out with the toilet brush, laterI soaked them in disinfectant. I struggled with manually unlocking the car and stuffing my mouth; there could be no compromise. My napkin fell and blew, rolling off to be stuck to some seeds of epoxy in Paspallum grass, like a kite caught in a tree. Followed by chips and gravy- Splat!!! I heard scuttle and scratchy feeling on my top of my foot. I did not have my glasses on, so at startled glance i though it was a large rat! "Meow", went the rodent! 

My eyes adjusted, a shrunken, squiggly gecko covered with saliva limped and rolled under the bin. " Oh, it was a kitten! How cute!" I stood still, not wanting to scare her with sound. Like a professional, she scratched and squashed a few hot potato mush, liking the drying gravy on the warmed bitumen, also turning her body in the opposite direction to her head so she could escape. She gobbled everything. "Oh beautiful girl." Her sunken eyes still sparkling. I bent down slowly and picked her up.  She was skin and bones. She had an old white almost shredded collar with a rusty bell that had lost its tinkle; she was dumped probably a Christmas purchase!

I chose the name Karen because it was a discarded, discouraged name that no one really wanted. I wanted her, so that would be our joke. She liked raw kangaroo meat and I could barely afford that, but I did! With another mouth to feed, I ate rolled oats and looked for more work. I still kept my luxury of tobacco- the frenemy- which was rationed!

That sounds like an excuse, another mouth to feed that is! Before Karen, I was already close to being unemployed and working small contracts as a sole trader. I was desperately avoiding going on a government welfare benefit. I mean, you gotta like your work, but there's mountains, loaded drawer and duchesses of workplaces out there who did not like working. Work was a means to an end, there's, no gratitude, no intrinsic value gained from a job well done, no happiness, plenty of complaining, noise, anger, slithering and Google hit confidence. Its just money, money, money. I needed a base wage and gain a customer base, so I tried to tolerate the nonsense. A Rabbi said the balance between greed and good business practise is being charitable. 

To add to my grief, there was too much government assistance out there indeed helping the struggling, honest employer, but the funds were open to exploitation. Firstly there are job vacancies, then there were job agencies, then the employers and finally the unemployed, in that order!

The unemployed come in three categories: 

1. Those who are new on the market- young and fresh;

2. Those willing to be unemployed but are over or under qualified, usually 30 years plus;

3. Those spun out and burnt out from the find a job system and can't work;

 4. And the most cunning, those not wanting to be employed.

Karen blinked. I was in category 2, the one who heard the previous trainee was sacked on personal grounds when their government funding expired, although the last bit, where the money ran out, only showed in the upright self righteous interviewer posture and attitude. Also, I viewed, pursing my lips, that is, I kept my mouth shut, seeing the flying feathers from burst Covid pillows. The Australian government, to protect the economy, paid full-time and part-time wages of all employees of established businesses during the epidemic-the Covid pillow! The swindlers, the tax dodgers, the money launderers God help us!

After three months, I felt desolate. I had saved like a squirrel for these times. All the full-time jobs were comtinually advertised but nothing! I, like many others, cracked the covert modus operandi, of stinge. I browsed the internet job plethora sites, full-time, full-time, full-time... Karen blinked... I would bring up the option of part-time work again and again. I put forward that option in the cover letters. Many times, I remebered the gritted, paper shredding teeth talk, "We want someone full-time." I kept typing. I remember a facial side on, usually from males, head tilting upwards exposing a tongue which curled on its tip outside of the mouth, "We want full-time!" I kept typing. I remembered the rejection email, "Unfortunately, YOU do not have the skills We require." 

Whilst eating breakfast, I scrolled again thru last nites search. PING, PING, PING, My emails had downloaded! I had a urgent interview.in a few hours. I had showered the nite and I would need a quick baby bath (wash cloth in sink of water) to freshen. The drain pipe had been blocked, costly, so I monitored my water use to preserve the new pipe and help water conservation too.

I arranged my clothes out on my made bed. My bra was not doing up. I already knew the problem was the hooks twisted in the old washer. Even though I had fastened the back of the undergarment, the only wash cycle which operated was "Hard Wash." As usual, I pushed the metal closure against the cupboard so it was bent back to flush. Next, a singlet, followed by dark blue, all cotton jeans, a soft silk, tucked in blouse with floral print. Finally, a very necessary maroon woollen vest draping down over my hips In the past, I had reoccurring colds and chest infections. That was cured after my doctor refused to give me a fourth course of antibiotics and I had no choice to adhere to the stern advise of the next practitioner, a naturopath, "Keep your kidneys warm and never go outside with wet hair or an umbrella"

Luckily, i took my umbrella with me, sometimes here in Queensland, its four seasons in one day. When i was young, people could look at the sky: clear, its going to be hot; muggy with some clouds, we could get a storm in the afternoon. The office was hard to find, my shoes were soggy and my socks soaked. I squished into the interview room. The interview was as dreary as the day was; I was in and out quicker than one could say, "Bob's your uncle." 

My hopes dampened, I entered my home, I shivered, feeling the chill of the room thru my jeans. I hung my umbrella on its hook. Straightened the picture of a Sparrow on a lawn next to it. Reading printed text below the bird, "God cares for the small birds..." chirped at my low spirits, "...why do you not think he cares for you?" The magic of those words lifted the worry on my shoulders. Pussy-cat appeared to have not moved deep under the rug she looked satisfied, at the end of the lounge. My internal fire may have gone out, and the water partially sucked from my bones, but I could bring some heat to the room. I found a heating method from youtube, I improvised that method! I found an old shower tile and two dessert bowls at the local markets. My lucky finds were placed on the coffee table far away from curtains. The two bowls must be placed face-to-face with spoons on either side acting like beams. A lit tea light is placed inside the bowls. In no time, the room got hot.

I stroked Karen's soft, comforting fur as she purred a soothing vibration. It was 6 pm. I decided to watch the news, I needed to catch up. Canberra looked like a mixture between a therapy session and kangaroo court. People demanding parliament privilege, crude revelations and allegations, another member stuttering from pain killers and no paramedic present. We were also accused of flying cardboard airplanes fixed with rubber bands in a civil war, then youth crime, homelessness, and the cost of living rising. I mean, American call our koala bear Capricious and I guess our country is moody and eccentric too like that too! We were a mess, and the world was in a recession. Interrupted. I felt a sharp pain in my left eye like an insect had flown and stuck on my eyeball. I found the bathroom cabinet with my good eye - stark, cold chemical tears formed; my eyes blinked. 

The next morning, Karen was stretched out laying on the carpeted floor in a square of timed, warm, giving sun; it was sucked up in her breath. She was tired. She had a hard night, fighting ghosts and catching evil spirit dream catcher feathers. I was grateful. My dream narrative was good. I have three relaxed dream landscapes, and last nite was the one visiting the art deco shopping centre, having coffees and talking to dream friends. Strangely, as I left for the next job interview, I could see quite well without my glasses. Karen lifted her head and winked. My reflex blinked back. She provided me with armoured vehicle, two security guards protecting my clean spiritual space and my energy currency. I said as I opened my car door, "I'm willing to share, but not be stolen from because a blink of the eye can changed the continuum and bend to a new reality!