by Alden Cox ©1995
The task of House Hunting is fraught with drama and suspense, especially here in rural Massachusetts where the laws governing septic systems have recently been fortified. This is a Perk Test tale of hardpan and hubris, of glacial indifference and feline omniscience...
Newton blinked slowly in the sunlight. He lay in a despotic sprawl on an upstairs window sill, his striped bulk balanced precariously on the weathered wood. The old maples along the road shone bright orange, putting to shame Newton’s own dusty coat. The controlled lash of his tail was the only indication of his state of mind.
Newton was annoyed; his hegemony of Elmer Snow’s House was threatened. Naturally, he didn’t think of it as Elmer Snow’s House. Elmer had departed for parts unknown, driven off in a van with a couple of suitcases and a box of papers. Elmer had never been much competition anyway. Newton was disgusted by his habit of staring at that noisy box all day. He had once watched the box with Elmer, certain that Elmer, who moved slowly and wheezed, wouldn’t be able to pounce fast enough to catch whatever might sneak out of it.