January 31, 2007
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Little Cat
Monday morning, Shaun walked me to the subway on my way to work. He needed ink for the printer. He is usually still in bed when I leave, catching up on sleep lost in late night writing.
About half way down the block, I heard a pathetic meow. Shaun continued talking, undaunted, but I shushed him, urgently seeking the cat source. Was kitty hurt? The meow sounded again and I spotted a fluffy Tom perched on a neighboring balcony. He’d jumped up there and was now unable to get back from whence he came. The Tom meowed and meowed and my heart pinched: all I wanted to do was climb up to rescue him. I wanted to cuddle him and feel his fluffiness on my cheek. I wanted it even though I knew I’d end up scratched and my clothes dirtied and my intentions questioned by whosever house it was that I’d have to scale to get to the little fur ball.
I was probably just exhausted from our weekend of travel, but listening to the cat wail and walking away from him made tears leap to my eyes.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Shaun asked.
“I feel like I’m that cat,” I said.
I was crying, trying my hardest not to sob.Later, I wondered if I was the cat or if my family back home was the cat.
Back home, something horrific happened to a young family member. The kind of thing that makes you want to wrap someone in a warm blanket, snuggle them, and tell them that everything is going to be all right. Words can’t console everything. Sometimes only simple warmth will do: a big mug of hot cocoa with a big glob of that Fluff marshmallow stuff, a sappy movie, a nightlight. And I can’t be sure this family member is getting that, and I am too far away to provide it. So we are both the cat.
I just hope that thing about having nine lives is true.
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Have you ever felt like the cat?
Comments (8)
Meow.
[Cat-speak for yes, I have felt like the cat.]
I hope your family member is OK.
I know what it’s like to want to help someone but being too far away to do anything. It sucks. A lot. And can cause lasting emotional damage to you if you’re not careful.
Sometimes we all feel like the cat, and you score a bulls-eye on the metaphor. I do hope someone helped the furry little fella.
ryc: Snow is just fine, if you never have to shovel or drive in it. If I didn’t have to do those things, I’d probably find it quite pretty.
^double-meow.
Here’s wishing you and your family member some hardcore healing. . .
Meow. Yes, I’ve felt like that cat. I hope your family member is ok.
And then there are times when I eat everything not nailed down and I feel like *my* cat.
Meow even.
Your dreams were sort of there already weren’t they. Oh, my best to you and yours.
Virtual kittie lovin’ sent to you.
ryc: Oh Jonathon Winters! I am sorry he terrifies you. He was one of the funniest guys without being crass that I ever heard. And he did guest spots on Scooby Doo, so I thought kids would appreciate him.
Hey, did you know that drawing a picture of a person is one type of intelligence test? I learned about it in undergrad. Apparently there is a scale attached, but the idea is that the more detail a kid puts into the form, the more they observe and communicate so that means more intelligence. I don’t know the validity of it, but damn woman, you would be a freakin’ genius! of course, I have suspected this all along.
no
but thats a cool pic of you in front of the eiffel tower
Many, many times. And many times I wish I were a cat! Sleeping in the sun all day, playing with toy mice, getting fed at regular times. Oh, the litter box. That’s a problem.
I hope your family member gets over whatever horrible thing happened.
Lynn