The days are hot, long, and getting hotter. Like my jungle
ancestors, I spend the cool mornings
catching up on chores, reminding Judy my food dish is
half full and my bowl of water is hours old. In a seminar I give to
anyone who will listen (Cat Care For
Dummies), I’ve trained her to multi task by dribbling the kitchen faucet
water while she prepares her morning coffee. I study the rivulets wiggling down
the drain, as she counts, “One. Two……” If I don’t embellish in the fresh stream
by the count of “Three,” she turns off the water video. I’ve learned to lap on
the count of “Two.”
Food preparation and packing are the priorities these days,
but I sense a tenseness in the air and it is not anticipation of our upcoming three
month journey. I eavesdropped as Judy prattled on and on with her sister and
her best friend as she described her nervous energy. It is what all humans whom
I’ve ever confronted seem to be plagued with - trying to predict the future.
Doesn’t she know that everything happens for a reason? I
know she does. I’ve heard her say it. I want
to tell her about the time I lived on the streets. Back then I was young and I
hung out with Barbie, a beautiful sleek, sweet feline who prowled the neighborhood next
to mine. I wanted her for my own. I envisioned us merging our territorial
rights and becoming a pride to be reckoned with. We would wake the people with
our wild, passionate love making and I prayed to the Cat God for him to make Barbie
mine. I promised I would never ask for
anything again, if, just this once, he would grant my wish.
The Cat God never granted that wish that I wished way back
then. Barbie found other interests when I was swept up by a rescuer of lost souls
and taken to Judy. Although Barbie is
not in my life anymore and we never accomplished our goals to rule the
neighborhood, I guess the Cat God knew what he was doing after all.
I've partied in Key West with my friend Charlie.
I've celebrated Thanksgiving with the Cats of New Orleans.
I've listened to the Aspens sing in the canyons in Utah.
I saw Barbie the other day. She crept up to the door and called out to me. I chirped and twitched my tail in greeting when I realized it was her. We tried to talk about old times but she could see that I had changed, and she had too. Her fur matted fur along her back smelled and her eyes sunk in her sockets. She looked like she had lived eight lives. I turned away from the screen door and gazed up at Judy as she laid back in her recliner lost in the latest rerun of, Wanted Dead or Alive. This is where I belong. I try not to question life’s events, because I believe the Cat God knew what he was doing when so long ago and he has his plan now. My life is the envy of cats and humans alike.
And I've been lulled asleep by sunsets in....
Winter Island, Massachusetts....
in the Florida Keys
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