A DAMN GREAT THING

Another Monday. The cats are in no hurry to get up, but how is that different from most days? And here’s another rhetorical question … why was the roofer next door pounding at 8:00 a.m. and quiet now? At first, I thought it was some kind of squirrel doing some kind of damage to the house. The noise was so a-rhythmic and random.

And that was yesterday and yesterday's gone, to quote Peter and Gordon. 

The distressing part of the next door roofing project was that it interrupted the deliciousness of the morning snooze. The air wafting through the window had an eating strawberries sensation, both tart and sweet ... and utterly delicious ... until that infernal knocking caused me to close the window. 

I am still processing an intense conversation with my spiritual advisors, C&J. Remarkable how far one can travel emotionally and spiritually in (what feels like) a relatively short span of time. Then again, putting into practice one's realizations are another matter entirely. One portion of the conversation was about seeing and self-perception. This is an area of long-standing personal query. The a-ha moment was that my current pair of glasses is not only five years old, but reeedunkulously (and repeat that word) scratched and scarred. If I did not have contacts as a back-up, I would be in desperate straits. I got up this morning, drove to an optician, and ordered new spectacles. I mean, really, what have I been thinking and putting up with? I really can't reasonably see ANYTHING.

So, today is Cooder's 16th birthday. She has been with me since she was 12 weeks old. Even those folks who know her don't really resonate with her. She's my cat. I would that others knew the comfort of her purr, her discreetly bestowed cuddliness, her quiet and arch conversations, but these things are for me alone. Trust me. She is a rare familiar, keeping her own counsel and reserving her affection as she sees fit. I've had several other cats over the decades, lovable, noteworthy, precious each, but Cooder is a familiar ... and those are rare. I know our remaining time is limited; I try to appreciate her and our time together each day. 

As the regular readers herein know, she had a stroke last October from which she seems completely recovered. But I remember her that night, a rare occasion that she slept on top of me, heart to heart through a difficult night. She is a being I am grateful for each day. We love them. They do actually love us. This is a damn great thing.