I am one of Franz Kafka modest admirers. So, the title works pretty tricky in my case but the story itself has as start point exactly a confusion.
A guy in an appartment looking for feed his cat. A scarf on closet door . A lady. Their dialogue destroying the previews suppositions. And the bad news about poor cat.
You discover the history of their relation, the status of woman between witch to beech and the affection of man for cat and for her, her passion for strange ingredients and the webb of mutual reproches.
In final, a sort of reconciliation after a cat and mouse conversation. The memory of late cat as basic ingredient of this peace.
So, nice . But who calls his cat...Kafka ?
