When I sleep I am sometimes the wilting stalk surrounded by pillow petals and when I awake my pillow creases match those of linen. With hair well coiffed due to a night of kneading by a cat named Mo, I stumble around in the dark because, once again, the internal clock refused to sync with the external.
Before sunrise I sit with the joyous ones following their schedule more than my own. Could that be due to the constant dancing being choreographed and performed all night long? Those midnight dancers sleek and limber! At times I am just an inattentive observer picking up pieces of the more daring moves, usually the ones accompanied by song. Other times, I am an unwilling participant dragged from the audience or, better yet, a stage prop here to assist in the most final stages of the fight or flight steps.
The dance I love most is the “are you awake yet” dance. Sitting/standing between my shoulder blades, while performing in time to Fuz’ throaty bass tones, Dell smoothly taps his toes and fingers into my upper back all to the missing beat- he is a cool cat! Even when I shoot him looks of displeasure he is always mildly surprised that I might find the performance uncouth.
If after his display I make the slightest gesture that it is possible I will awaken from my shallow slumber, he is satisfied and joyous to the point of joining his brother in song. Once they succeed and I rise up with the congregation to congratulate them with a victory meal. They then settle down for a long day’s nap content to know the bed is unoccupied. I free Mia from her bedroom suite where only she seems to have acquired the beauty sleep I so longed for when I laid my heavy head on the pillow petals the night before.
And, just before there is any chance of being fully awake, I snake off hoping to catch a quick cat nap before the intruding alarm sounds again.
Showing posts with label cat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cat. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Neighborhood Politics
Have you ever had a neighbor that you appreciate, but, when you see him or her, she/he will take up more time than you have available? Always wanting to linger just a few more minutes discussing the weather or the gardening on the street? Do you find yourself hiding or waiting until you are certain he or she is in their car or has passed along far enough not to see you and stop? I have this type of relationship with a neighborhood cat.
The little girl is a lovely sleek black cat that lives with my neighbors across the alley. The little cat disappears for the winter, but come the nicer weather she is out in force soaking up sun and tormenting the squirrels of the neighborhood. She has the kindest disposition and is always ready to greet passersby.
A couple nights ago, I was coming home from dinner with a friend of mine walking down this little cat’s street. I noticed from afar her shadowed black shape perched on the curb and, as we approached, I acknowledged her as I would with any of my neighbors (at least the one’s I like). She, as is her way, ran over to greet us, rolling this way and that, content to make the acquaintance. The problem always comes when I go to take my leave. She is willing to forget her sentry position on the corner and follow me. I say my goodbyes and try to slip away. The little black cat, on the other hand, is not yet finished with the exchange. She happily trots off after us.
My friend, who cannot stand being followed by the furry friend, keeps turning around to peek at the little cat, I reprimand. “Please don’t even glance at her. She will get sidetracked and stop following us soon enough, but each time you look at her she takes it as a cue that maybe she isn’t keeping up and will quicken her pace to meet up with us.” My friend, a caring sort, begins to feel bad about the situation and gets slightly upset with me for saying hello to the little cat in the first place. I will have none of it. The little cat is like any other neighbor and should be treated as such. With that, lost in our debate, we turn the corner, reach the gate and the little cat is gone.
The little girl is a lovely sleek black cat that lives with my neighbors across the alley. The little cat disappears for the winter, but come the nicer weather she is out in force soaking up sun and tormenting the squirrels of the neighborhood. She has the kindest disposition and is always ready to greet passersby.
A couple nights ago, I was coming home from dinner with a friend of mine walking down this little cat’s street. I noticed from afar her shadowed black shape perched on the curb and, as we approached, I acknowledged her as I would with any of my neighbors (at least the one’s I like). She, as is her way, ran over to greet us, rolling this way and that, content to make the acquaintance. The problem always comes when I go to take my leave. She is willing to forget her sentry position on the corner and follow me. I say my goodbyes and try to slip away. The little black cat, on the other hand, is not yet finished with the exchange. She happily trots off after us.
My friend, who cannot stand being followed by the furry friend, keeps turning around to peek at the little cat, I reprimand. “Please don’t even glance at her. She will get sidetracked and stop following us soon enough, but each time you look at her she takes it as a cue that maybe she isn’t keeping up and will quicken her pace to meet up with us.” My friend, a caring sort, begins to feel bad about the situation and gets slightly upset with me for saying hello to the little cat in the first place. I will have none of it. The little cat is like any other neighbor and should be treated as such. With that, lost in our debate, we turn the corner, reach the gate and the little cat is gone.
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