It is a gorgeous fall Saturday but I don’t mind writing all day. I like holding the world slightly at bay as I type by the window, the wind and clamour drifting in, gently smoky. It is, however, difficult to finish an essay while Gracie is holding my hand. That said, who can resist a cat who likes to hold hands? And she does, she really does. She holds my hand when she is proud of me. She holds my hand when I am sad. She holds my hand when she is afraid of the thunder. Sometimes she holds my hand just to establish I’m her person. She used to hold my ex’s hand, too, until she began to sense she needed to emotionally protect me. It always broke my heart when I’d encounter the two of them watching TV and calmly holding paws.
I honestly think this predilection of hers stems from the reiki certification classes we attended when we were trying to help Max, my now-departed white tiger. It sounds far-fetched but she sat on my lap and listened closely during those sessions. She even has a little reiki diploma now. She’s a reikitty! Imagine the possibilities: She could open a business. She could even call it Healing Paws. She mewed indignantly when I typed that last sentence but why not? It’s about time Little Miss started contributing financially to our household. We Rosman Girls aren’t meant to just sit around and look pretty.