!! R E E N N N IIN W W
CITY OF CATS He comes to visit me every day, a Norwegian Forest Cat with a fiery mane and malachite eyes. The little ginger lion smirks at me, giving me cat kisses until I open my patio door and scratch under his chin. He struts inside like nobody’s done in months, tail in the air, king of the castle. I feed him some skin and broth from a tin of salmon. He bathes himself after his meal, then curls up in my lap and purrs as I read. And then he leaves, out of
JUDGE'S REMARKS:
my small world and into his big one. He makes his way through the quiet city, striding boldly down
The author of City of Cats surprises
the centre of empty streets. He rides atop the streetcar across
and delights from the opening with an
the bridge, sees a Turkish Van trying to catch koi in the
expectation of magic. The Norwegian
Legislature fountain. He strolls through the marble halls of the
Forest Cat becomes the wise traveller
grand building, sits on the Speaker’s Throne as a Russian Blue
purring and cuddling by day, but by
and an orange tabby hiss at each other from across the aisle.
night! Oh, he’s is not confined by any
He wanders around downtown, watches a Ragdoll sliding merrily
pandemic! He becomes a wanderer and
across the ice at the arena, observes two Persians playfighting
an adventurer in the strange, dream-lit,
in the Hotel Macdonald’s ornate ballroom.
surreal night filled magical realism and
As the sun begins its slow descent, all the cats of the city
joy. Defying all rules of human
return home. They find their humans lounging in sunbeams,
engagement with the city, the cat
taking naps. They let the humans feed them, pet them, play with
makes us want for that kind of freedom,
them. And, as the moon dawns, they go to the window and look
that kind of returning to home after a
out on their sparkling city, eager for another day of adventure.
good time away. City of Cats wakes us up to the uninterrupted world of the urban animal.
By:
Bruce Cinnamon