I took a cat bath yesterday. No, not a spit bath, a cat bath. During a lovely conversation with a friend in her home, the cat that lives inside (she has others who don't-guest post for another day) insisted on rubbing against my legs and then hopping up in my chair, forcing his head into my open palm, encouraging me to stroke him continuously while he moved his head back and forth. I'm not sure who was petting who! All this after he barely let me touch him when we first 'met'. I think every square inch of me from the neck down was covered in cat pheromones. I felt so loved. Although it was past my bedtime, and I'd only meant to stay for a minute or two, the cat seemed to say, "Don't you love the feel of my velvety fur? Just sit here, and let me love on you for a while. Don't be in a hurry to do anything else." I was bathed in kitty love. Don't we all need moments like this?
The gentle, subtle mystery of cats has always fascinated me. Perhaps its because you can't truly
|Josie the Napinator|
My outdoor Tom, who was supposed to be a female and didn't get the memo, acts as if the garage where he's fed is his zoo cage, and I'm the new feeder. Everytime. Skittish if there's extra noise, he deigns to let me lightly stroke his back as he begins to eat. Sometimes.
Our indoor cat, Josie, is quite affectionate, especially at breakfast, or should I say just before breakfast :-). This now pregnant tuxedo (thank-you Tom!) sleeps at my feet and then prowls around softly biting my nose so I'll get up and feed her. After all, she's eating for at least five.
This morning I read a post an artist friend sent me about an interview with Fred Waitzkin, a writer whom I must confess I'd never read, and he was talking about how energy is essential for writing. How you've got to gather energy from the world around you. How you've got to write from what you know. Sometimes people can be that energy. Events. Conversations. Situations. But in this case it was a cat.