Cats permeate my life, especially my cats and my routines with them.
There is a colony of unsocialized felines behind my work-place. Lately a new cat has appeared amongst the regulars, who are mostly white and black, except for a tabby with white socks. This new fellow is all-black and is still making his place. I left work one day this week and saw him slip behind a pile of wooden pallets. He evidently met other cats, as there was hissing and growling. I immediately said:
“Hey, hey! It’s alllllll right, it’s alllllll right… Calm down…”
This is what I do when my own beasts act up. What did I expect these community cats to do?
Then there’s the fact that when I see dust-bunnies on floors outside of my own apartment, I stoop to pick them up, automatically thinking them to be cat-hair. When I hear anything that sounds like a cat retching, I look up to see if it’s Cammie. I could be in the local grocery store…
And as if that’s not enough, I was at the pet-supply shop where, on the second Saturday of every month, my rescue-group shows off a cat available for adoption, and watched a dog come in with his people. He was a big, cheerful fellow. He came over to greet me and his people told me that he was very happy to be there. Though I could see his tail wagging, I nonetheless put my hand against his side - so I could feel if he was purring.
Cats permeate my life.