Cat was in the garden. She called him Cat because that’s what he was. She didn’t hold with giving animals people-names. Nannie could hear him squalling at the birds who so deftly avoided his clawless front paws. Chuckling softly, Nannie tied an apron around her ample waist and began setting out the ingredients to make a stack cake. She guarded the recipe jealously; it had been her grandmother’s and not an easy one to replicate. She had kept it only in her memory until her memory started to go, then she wrote it down and put it in her coffee canister. She prayed every night she wouldn’t forget where she’d hidden it. She looked around her sunny yellow kitchen and breathed a prayer of thanks that she could still find it when she needed it.