Tuesday, July 3, 2012


Jojoba Hills SKP RV Park is one of my favorite places. I purr and meow, rub and roll, when Judy announces we are coming here. No matter where we stay in the park, the scents in the air vary from sage and cacti to rabbits and quail. Summer or winter, the breeze blows gently down from Mt. Palomar.

I have been here since Friday and am sorry to say we disconnect our electrical cord tomorrow, the Fourth of July. We spent most of the days writing, editing, rewriting and then repeating the process over and over again. Afternoons I retired to my bed while the words and phrases danced in my head until Judy returned from the pool, or happy hour, or dinner out with friends. Evenings and mornings are the best parts of my days because Judy is not distracted with the myriad of duties with which humans feel compelled to fill their life.

I have tried to teach Judy the simplicities of life, that the universe has its own clock and  ticks to its own schedule. I am in tune with its pulse. You will never see me pacing over what the future has in store. My future is this moment, as I study a bird on the fence. My attention may stretch into the next five minutes but only until it takes flight. Then my feathered friend becomes part of yesterday and I am blessed with the ability to forget.  I believe Judy is catching on as she joins me to examine a bug's journey in the dirt.

But tomorrow belongs to Judy and she has explained that those complexities I mentioned have to be dealt with if I want to continue my lifestyle. She reminded me that not all cats live in the moment and are able to leave yesterday behind them, pointing out the commercials on TV for the SPCA. Her poignant comment caused me to cease my complaints as quickly as if she’d used the squirt bottle.

So I padded down a different track as I pondered the Fourth of July and its significance. Judy told me it had been Jack’s birthday. I didn’t know Jack when he lived but from all Judy told me I believed it was his hand guiding me as a kitten when I struggled on the streets of Sun City looking for morsels of food. When I was weak with hunger and thirst, an apparition floated in and out of my consciousness, whispering in my ear. I have seen pictures of Jack. The ghost in my dreams wore the same Harley hat and shirt. Judy told me the Buddhists believe an animal born after the death of a loved can possess a piece of the loved one’s soul. I don’t know if Judy agrees but she thinks it surreal that her birthday and mine are the same.

The Fourth of July means freedom. I wonder how many other countries a cat is allowed to travel across the land without a passport. I have rolled in the red dirt in Bryce National Park and driven past Elvis’s Graceland. Although I consider water only a means to satisfy my thirst, I trembled at the sight of Niagara Falls. The images of Ground Zero, The Pentagon Memorial, and The Flight 93 Memorial live in my mind and I will always wonder about the spirits of my animal friends born after 911 .My freedom permits me to sleep anywhere, in either of my two homes. The Fourth of July represents these privileges and I don’t want them taken from me.

I have met cats at the shop who lost these opportunities because they hissed and growled and refused to conduct themselves as respectable cats. They’ve never ventured out of Sun City. I’ll try not to meow when Judy works too long and I will with hold my urge to squeeze past the fireplace screen to gain immediate attention when I feel I’m ignored. Freedom is a privilege I don’t want taken from me. When I look in the mirror I am proud of who I am and I am grateful. God Bless the USA.

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