As my story closed last week, I was sitting on a porch near an open window listening as my mistress, Ashra, spoke to a old woman who invited her into an odd looking cottage.

Ashra and I were on our first adventure. Inspired by stories boys told about finding gold and battling fierce dragons, Ashra decided to go on an adventure and took me with her, against the advice of everyone she knew. “No one takes a cat on an adventure!” they told her. But, I was her best friend and Ashra had a mind of her own. Off we went, wandering north. Nothing interesting had happened until we met the old woman.

Her cottage appeared in mist as we rounded a curve in the road, just as Ashra said, “Don’t you think we should have had an adventure by now, Ton-Ton?” When the woman declared she was afraid of cats, I decided to stay outside. There was something here I didn’t like, but I wasn’t sure what.

“And you’re by yourself?” the woman asked Ashra.

“No, “ Ashra replied. “Ton-Ton is with me.”

“Yes, your cat.”

I crept nearer the window and peeked inside. I watched the woman as she talked, noticing how she moved her hands. They fluttered back and forth nervously, especially when Ashra mentioned me.

The woman offered Ashra dinner and a warm bed. “What about Ton-Ton?” Ashra asked.

“He’ll be fine outside,” the woman answered. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy hunting for mice.”

The woman’s voice was shrill and raspy. She talked as she set the table for dinner.

“No butter for the bread.” She explained. “Butter doesn’t agree with me, I hope you don’t mind.”

She placed a dark loaf on the table.

“I’m grateful for your hospitality,” Ashra replied, ever polite. “No cheese! I never cared for it. Have some sunflower seeds. They’re delicious.”

I saw Ashra place a few seeds on her plate.

“A few berries, perhaps?” “Oh yes,” Ashra replied. “I like berries.”

They ate in near silence, the woman cracking sunflower seeds out of their shells with her teeth, gobbling berries in between. I have to say, I expected better table manners.

Ashra picked at her food. I knew she would have enjoyed a tasty chunk of cheese or a fat pat of sweet butter for her bread. Not long after, the woman announced it was bedtime and showed Ashra to her room.

Coming back into the living room, she spun round and round, faster and faster and in a moment, a tiny sparrow had taken her place.

My cat instincts took over and my protectiveness towards Ashra. I wasn’t sure Ashra was safe here. By what magic had this woman turned into a sparrow? Unseen, I crept through the window and pounced. I held the bird, but it slipped away and flew to the mantle. I leaped to the mantle and a vase of flowers crashed to the floor. Another miss.

I chased the bird around the room, making sure to keep it away from the window, fearing it would fly away. Finally, I had it cornered and I did what most cats do. I bit it.

I heard a boom like thunder and felt the room shake. A young woman, not much older than Ashra stood before me. “I’m Cora,” she said picked me up and hugged me. “You’ve broken the spell!”

Of course, by that time, Ashra had awakened and ran into the room to find out what was going on.

Cora’s story was similar to all those Ashra and I listened to for many years — a witch cast a spell and turned her into a bird as revenge for her picking sunflowers in the witch’s garden. She was doomed to live as a sparrow until the spell was broken.

“You’re my hero! My father’s not rich but he’s a fisherman and he’ll give you lots of fish!”

I don’t want to be impolite, but unlike most cats, I’ve never cared for fish. I left the two young women to a late night of talking and went into the night to hunt.