This is for the dverse prompt. 140 words of prose including the line from Charlotte Mew:
“This year’s a different thing, –
I’ll not think of you.”
Last year’s thing
I always wanted happiness, like everyone else, but how do you measure it? I thought it was something I could hold in my hand, take out and polish, sit on my desk or hang on the wall. I could invite people round to admire it, lend it or invest it, watch it multiply. I didn’t realise that happiness is a ray of sun breaking through clouds, the brief flash of a swallow’s red throat, ephemeral as sunsets.
It was a thing with me, to collect objects that caught my eye, and one year, it was you. For the whole summer until the leaves began to turn I kept you by me, my exotic cat. But this year’s a different thing. I’ll not think of you, last year’s thing. Not how you ended anyway. Even exotic cats only have nine lives.
Jane Dougherty Writes 
I knew you would have a unique take on this. Another sad tale.
Poor cat.
He might not have been a cat…
Yeah–I thought that. But I didn’t want to write poor cat or whoever. 🙂
I know for some of us, the cat scenario might well be the more tragic 🙂
Well yes. 🙂
Very well written. Droll, profound and insightful. The first paragraph made me think deeply, the second made me chuckle a little because of the dark humour, even though it’s a sad story.
Thank you! I’m pleased you got a range of reactions from it. And I’m glad you laughed. It would only be sad if you knew the man, or cat 🙂
How sad and moody. I hope it gets better.
It will 🙂
Excellent! I love the tension in this story.
Thank you!
You’re welcome.
🙂
Very nicely done. Jane!
Thanks Dwight 🙂
Collectors are in their own class. There’s always a shiny new “cat” on the horizon…
Exactly. ‘I want’ being synonymous with ‘I need’.
Nice one!!!
Much❤love
Thank you!
I feel like this reflects humanity in general these days…of course we don’t even wait a year anymore to go on to the next thing. (K)
A year is a long time for many people. Especially those who live from weekend to weekend.
It seems in life we are always moving on to new things but, are we happy with the stuff we acquired. Happiness often is not found in material things and your poem brings that message front and center. Wonderfully done.
Thank you 🙂 It’s one of those truisms that most people seem to have absorbed, but rarely act upon.
Sad but I like that you’re celebrating the little time you had with the Cat. Thanks for sharing, Jane!
I’m sure she’ll have found a replacement pretty quickly 🙂 Thank you!
I like how you took the title from the prompt line, Jane, with a little twist, and your description of happiness in the first paragraph of as ‘the brief flash of a swallow’s red throat, ephemeral as sunsets’. And, of course, the ambiguity of the exotic cat!
Thank you, Kim 🙂
yes, I agree with Kim…
The “swallow’s red throat” also evoked a rich Portugese wine, for me (though I don’t drink alcohol).
May we drink deeply of sunsets too, and of the transient touch of …cats.
Thank you 🙂 Some people just don’t know what they want, except that it’s something they don’t have. Yet.
Ha yes, I am one of thosse people, as well as not!
What do we want is a difficult question to answer when you think about it. The answer usually leads to, but, wait… there’s also…
Yes o yes. I have struggled with the decline in my capacitty for “both … and….”
Yet “either…or…” seems such a difficult choice! When I grow up perhaps I will settle… I am nearly 70…
May not only your choices be comfortable, but also your relationship with the ambiguous, the paradoxical, the don’t know x
Thank you for the sensible wishes. I think the less you want, the more likely you are to be happy with what you get. But in many circles that would label me a loser. You know what? I don’t care 🙂
“Even exotic cats only have nine lives.” Great line. 🙂
Thank you!