The dishcloth at Purrcolator Cafe sees everything. It has asked to remain anonymous, but it has agreed to tell its story, on condition that it is not used for the rest of the day.
6 AM
The shop opens. Espresso Paws takes his position on the machine. Madame Latte Whiskerton arrives, sits in the window, and receives her first saucer of milk. It is spilled within a minute. This is the first of fourteen spillages.
8 AM
The morning rush begins. Customers arrive in a pack, with phones and expressions. The queue stretches out of the door. Espresso Paws watches. A latte is dropped. A second saucer is dropped. A child looks at a cat. The cat looks back.
10 AM
The rush eases. The staff sit down, briefly, for a drink. A cat leaps on the counter. A cup falls. The dishcloth is deployed. It is the second time today.
12 PM
Lunch service begins. The sandwich board outside reads “Today’s Special: Tuna.” This is true. It is not for sale. It is for the cat.
2 PM
The sunbeam arrives on the third table. The cat on the third table leans into it. The customer on the third table is asked to move. He moves. The dishcloth is relieved, because it is not a cloth for sunbeams.
4 PM
The final rush. A man orders eleven coffees. A woman orders none and sits. A cat is discovered in the tip jar. The dishcloth is thrown, caught, and rolled in.
Closing time
The cafe closes at 6 PM. The staff count the till, which is missing a coin. It is found inside the cat. The dishcloth is hung up to dry. It is never entirely dry.
Spillage totals
- Milk: nine saucers.
- Coffee: four cups.
- Water: one vase, one bowl, and one cat.
- Dignity: not measured.
A reflection
The dishcloth says it has never complained. It has asked to be mentioned in the annual report, and to be given a day off, and to be allowed to retire to a drawer. We have said that we will think about it, in the tradition of the establishment.