There is no 911 to call on this cold wet blustery winter day
when the second feline looks hesitantly toward the other, already
nestled between my thigh and pillow supporting my research dungeon—the “happy” Apple computer—when that front left
hesitantly placed orange paw tells me he
wants to lie with us—near his brother
and on my lap. How can I say
anything less than, “Come, mi amore.”
There is no 911 to call on this wet cold winter day, when my
cup of herbs runs tepid and low, when the pot on the stove hisses overflowingly
in that rhythmic reminder to not fill so full next time. Cinco’s tongue licks affectionately on Jewel,
who took him in tenderly when both arrived within months of one another ten
years ago, in a cold winter season—both orange, both castaways, both irresistibly,
themselves. Entwined now, pot
overflowing, teacup cool, pen empty of ink—and underneath their purrs, a
computer beckons me away from my love of pen and paper, to tell of love.
There is no 911 to call on this cold wet blustery day when a
writer’s home has pens further than an arm’s length away and the one in hand
has run dry and persistently so. Cat-presence
nourishes, quelling even the writer’s desire to hold the muse for but one
moment more. While they need one
another, the writer and her muse, she comes
because these feline heartbeats warm our cagey souls and wrap our tenderness’s together,
bringing us close and still.
There is no 911 to call when the dregs in the teacup are
thick and chewy and cold. The sinewy bitter
bites of osha and ginger roots giving their fullest, right to the end that most
often stew unexamined in those remains.
Over-full pot of medicinal tea hissing with metronomic perfection, will
change rhythm—the wave-pattern— in time, mixing with perfection the
background hum of electric and gas stove heat. This rich silence mixed with cat and human
breath, weave our tapestry another love beat.
There was no 911 to call then as we lay together, feeling
our body's' warmth greater as three, now as one, sharing heartbeats—our love for
one another—as there is no 911 to call today.
There is no moment to hold onto but the moment love takes you and makes
you part of it. Noble felines choose whom they
honour in their lifetimes—who is worthy of their gentle discerning souls.
Kat
12 December 2016
