Archive | Cat Lady Matters
I may the only one around who is genuinely fascinated by everyone’s dreams; I consider them an open door into their secrets, as well as their connection to the spirit world. So I won’t be offended if you skip this account of one I had last night of Miss Grace and some rose bushes. It is drenched in supertext rather than subtext, which may be an occupational hazard of being an Love Is Love, Part II
Permakitten Grace is my favorite. Lately I can’t pretend otherwise. With this onslaught of single-digit temperatures, we’ve spent an inordinate amount of time snuggling and watching old movies together; Little Miss prefers MGM musicals, and I prefer anyone encased in fur this time of year. Really, she’s the only being I wish to live with, and I find the experience so damn enjoyable that I don’t mind sharing the bed with her, though I detest sleeping with any other living being. It’s not that she doesn’t have her foibles. I keep a long list of what pleases her: hugs, making the bed, flopping, snooping, radiators, catnip, windows, dragging her toys around, rumpling up rugs, Ruby Intuition readings, slow blinks from in-the-know humans, squeaking, holding hands, older cats, sock drawers, chicken soup, string, Ella Fitzgerald and Aretha Franklin, compliments (especially on social media; I swear she can tell), my voice. But my list of what scares her is equally long: hugs, making the bed, feet, male voices, snow, bed-making, staying home without me, traveling with me, paper bags, kittens, doorbells, laundry drying racks, trashcans, whiskey, the refrigerator, dish-washing, the clink of silverware, the hissing of steam pipes, bathtubs, fresh air, children, my ex-lovers, our downstairs neighbors, curtains, static, off-key singing (she hides when a certain friend warbles along with records), sudden movements, loud noises, her own shadow. Continue Reading →
Moon Marching, Clocks Stopped
Today is the Chinese New Year and the beginning of a new moon cycle. I have not talked or written much in a week. Life is difficult in a way that is not aided by narration. It is difficult in a stop the clocks way, though that is not my story to tell. I have been in Massachusetts, and Gracie has been, too. Bringing her with me has proved ill-advised though she behaved beautifully in her carrier. She’s such a polite kitty. Sometimes I speak about her archly but the truth is I never feel alone so long as she is by my side; she is the truest of companions.
That said, my overfamiliar only loves me, which makes catsitting her problematic. She does not like when others visit when I am not home. She does not like staying in others’ homes when they are there, especially when I am not.
I brought her with me to Massachusetts as an experiment of sorts. Could I leave her with my goddaughters and their father in the Greater Boston Area while their mom and I journeyed further into New England for our annual mid-winter adventure? As it happens, it was a failed experiment. Circumstances drastically shifted, and I stayed with the girls while their parents braved the New England blizzard to face a different kind of storm. A bluer one. Continue Reading →